#you find his stash poking out of his coat in the break room

[tparker48]

Request for alexflo22

As the music played in the stadium, it drowned out the commotion that was going on in the locker room. In one of the isles, the waterboy would have his hands full as number 65 shrunk his body to size of his cleats.

"65, you can't do this! Coach will find out about this!"

"Oh he won't know, cause he won't know where i stashed you" the player plucked him from the ground as he opened the back of his padded pants. Pulling it down, his toned glutes filled the opening as he lowered him down. "You deserve a break waterboy, you're sticking with me" his voice soothed as he poked a finger into them. Driving them both into the crack as the crack he felt sweat coat the inner walls inside. But there was sudden jolt as the waterboy did his best to hold his limbs against the slick walls.

"65, please. Anywhere but in here. Its too rank to breath" they strained as their limbs began to shake underneath the muscles weight. The player sending constant clenches to squeeze them in, but the waterboy would sink. But it wouldn't last for long as the coated sweat would start to make him slip.

"Suck it up squirt, cause you're dealing with it during the whole game. Now get. In." The player began to screw his finger inside as he rotated it from side to side. Their limbs eventually giving way as they sunk the water boy against his sphincter. The sounds of muffles echoed behind him as his shaft began to poke at his padded crotch. "And to make sure you don't get out..." The player fished around inside near his hole as he felt around for their legs. The blubbered muscle sometimes blocking the way as they squished into his finger.

When he finally did find them, he pressed them deeply into his hole as the sphincter clamped down on them. After them, he pushed his fingers ontop of the waterboy's shoulders as he burrowed them deeper into its puckered surface. He only stopped pushing when his ring clench around their neck as he retracted his finger. Fanning off the damped sweat before he pulled back up his pants. Focusing the waterboy's struggles to get free as they wormed inside their analed cocoon.

"Careful waterboy, my ass is sensitive. Would be such a shame for coach to loose you to my insides" tauntly, he puckered his hole folds as he pretended to pull them in. Smiling to himself as he felt the little guy inside wiggle to stay above surface. As he clenched around them more, the sounds of the crowded and the loud speaker would his attention as he made his way to the stadium. "Try not to yell too much. I sweat a lot, so Don't blame me if get drenched in it"

With his glutes grinding together, he stepped out onto the field as he got in his position. Waiting for the balls to go flying. He caught a glimpse at his coach as he fumble to get the other players their water.

"All of you that just got through in the field, take a drink. Make sure to save for others. Waterboy! Where is he? He's always out here when i need"

"Oh he's out here coach, just not where you think" he mumbled to himself. Smirking as he focus on the waterboy inside wiggling from the increased heat by the sun. He leaned a little more as he gazed at the batter about to swing. "Time to play".

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 2

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol

–

1.

-

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

The cassette smashed.

“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”

She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?

“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”

Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.

“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”

Stop it.

“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Mumbles. Fear.

Stop it!

“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”

Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.

You smacked her hand away from him.

Pause.

You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.

Somehow you didn’t think so.

Play.

“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.

Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”

“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.

“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”

The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”

But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.

“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.

The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”

You curled your hands into fists.

“You stupid bully.”

The woman looked taken aback. “What?”

“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”

She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.

Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.

The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”

She turned her heel and stomped away.

You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.

“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”

You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.

“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.

You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.

You bit your lip.

Silence.

“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.

“Y… Yeah.”

Silence.

The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.

He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.

“H-Hey!”

Pause.

He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.

“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”

I want to break this cycle.

“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.

He didn’t say anything the entire walk.

Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.

Showed him the bathroom. A shower?

Shake, shake.

Okay.

You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.

Yoongi said nothing.

You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.

You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.

No dance party tonight.

You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.

A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.

You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.

He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.

Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.

His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.

You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.

You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.

Let’s just say living alone made you weird.

You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.

Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Morning.

You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.

Staring at it with a million question marks.

You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.

Your stomach screamed in rage.

Feed me!

Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?

You began to chop the kimchi.

-

Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig. 

"Motherfuc–!"

A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.

"Stupid oil, ugh."

Not his girlfriend. 

Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later. 

His stomach growled. 

The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it. 

"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."

Yoongi blinked. 

He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer. 

You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt. 

You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan. 

"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"

Yoongi stared.

You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around. 

Froze. 

Yoongi blinked at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan. 

Silence. 

A good ten seconds past. 

You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.

"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"

"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.

You turned bright red. 

"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."

Yoongi stared at you. 

You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.

Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents. 

That was a long time ago. 

"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."

Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it. 

As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality. 

Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief. 

He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.

"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."

Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate. 

"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"

"No."

He said the word with harsh finality. 

"It's not that bad."

It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away. 

"... Okay."

Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems. 

... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...

Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.

"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."

Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."

You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. 

"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."

He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either. 

"Uh..."

You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper. 

"What's your name?" 

-

"Do you want white or black?"

You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.

"Uh... Black."

You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask. 

He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots. 

"White or black?"

Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.

Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater. 

"O-oh!"

"Fuck!"

His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?

You laughed. 

You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.

The red string connecting you to him. 

Yoongi stared. 

At you.

His heart thudded in his chest. 

Thump. 

"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.

Thump.

His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.

Thump. 

A fleeting feeling. 

Happiness.

You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly. 

Another fluttering feeling. 

Sadness. 

You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?

"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic. 

You shook your head, waving a hand. 

"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"

"U-uh..."

"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."

-

"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought. 

"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."

"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.

"... Yeah."

"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"

You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open. 

"... Alright..."

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.

"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning. 

No one was there. 

The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

He turned his head to see you tilting yours. 

"You coming?"

You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine. 

"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin. 

-

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. 

Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off. 

Morning. Night. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

Morning. 

"You coming?"

Night. 

“Wanna race?”

Repeat.

The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.

Your lips asking him once again. 

"You coming?"

Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment. 

At first, Yoongi didn't smile. 

Then one day, he did. 

And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you. 

-

"What are you doing?"

You froze. 

Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.

And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics. 

You turned around. 

Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles. 

The song went into the guitar solo. 

He blinked at you. 

"Uh... dancing?"

Blink. 

Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice. 

But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.

"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.

Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"

Yoongi stared at you.

Blink. 

The song changed. One of your favorites. 

Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel. 

Blink. 

"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look. 

The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar. 

His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.

You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.

The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid. 

Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing. 

With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh. 

And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.

Sparkling with brightness. 

The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips. 

"Your music taste is nuts."

You smiled as the next song started. 

"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."

You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him. 

"Because every night should be a dance party."

And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes. 

From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"

You'd dance to anything. 

You weren't great at it. 

But it was always hilarious. 

And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night. 

-

Pause. 

Fast forward. 

Wait. Are you sure?

You can always rewind. 

You don't have to press play. 

Pause.

Play. 

-

“Do you like rap?”

You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”

Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”

“I do.”

Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.

“I definitely want to listen to it.”

You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.

Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.

Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.

You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.

“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.

“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”

“… It’s not that–”

“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”

Yoongi looked stunned.

You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”

He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”

You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”

The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.

Both of you froze.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”

“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.

You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.

“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”

Yoongi took a step towards her.

The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.

Another step.

“Yoongi.”

He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.

You smiled.

Smiled even though the moment was killing you.

“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.

You kept the bright smile on your face.

Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.

“Okay.”

Pause.

You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.

“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”

He made eye contact with you. He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You turned and ran.

Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.

You froze.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Empty.

-

3.

--

masterpost

[firstdegreefangirl]

If you are open to Ted Lasso requests, then Roy Kent/Keeley Jones + sickfic and snuggles?

Oh, nonnie, this got WAY out of hand. But I had SO MUCH FUN writing it, so thank you! There's a lot going on at the beginning here, but I swear there are sickfic and snuggles under the break. I hope you like it!

Read the whole thing in one click HERE on ao3!

The morning gets off to a late start, right out of the gate. The team bus leaves late when they lose Nate again (this year they knew to check the luggage hold, but no one thought to look in the upstairs bathroom, where he was “looking for a little extra privacy, sorry”) and there’s more traffic than anyone could have predicted.

Altogether, it means that the team hardly makes it to Sheffield with time to drop their bags at the hotel before they’re due at the stadium for the game.

Roy tosses a duffel bag onto one of the double beds in the room he’s sharing with Ted tonight (not by choice; it turns out relegation means there’s not enough money in the team budget for all four coaches to have separate suites. Last away game, he and Nate had been roommates, but Ted has some big idea about everyone spending equal amounts of time together in the name of ‘equitable morale,’ and apparently coaching staff isn’t exempt.)

Really, he should have taken the job with SkySports.

At least then, he wouldn’t be pulling a furry green unicorn out of his bag and sitting it carefully by the pillows.

“Security object, Roy?” Ted points from across the room as Roy reaches for his phone. “Respect. No shame in a man seeking a little comfort from-”

“Fuck off,” he snaps, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Phoebe’s mad her mum wouldn’t let her come on a sleepover with the team this weekend. Asked me to bring Captain McKibbin along instead, the little idiot. I … promised to send pictures. As proof.”

“Hey, I get it. My boy’s done many a Flat Stanley in his day.” Clearly, Ted expects him to know what this means, so Roy nods if only to save himself the explanation. “Anyway, we’ve got to meet the fellas in the lobby, head over to the field – pitch.” A full year in, and Ted still struggles with the vernacular sometimes. It’d drive Roy nuts, if the guy hadn’t done so much to help him and his career. “Is, ah, will Captain McCarlson be joining us for the-”

“McKibbin. Captain McKibbin, and he will not. Phoebe says he can stay here, to ward off any bad dream monsters.”

“Well you be sure to let her know that I intend to sleep snug as a bug in a rug tonight. No, two rugs!” Tim points at Roy with both hands, then spins around and opens the door to the hallway.

He still hasn’t gotten a chance to catch up with Keeley before the match starts. She and Rebecca had driven out separately – something about girl talk and lattes – but he knows she’s around somewhere. The owner’s box is a little different everywhere they go, but never too terribly hard to find, and he catches a glimpse of her bright pink peacoat when he looks around during the opening lineup. She's sitting between Rebecca and Higgins, and as soon as she notices him watching, she waves happily. He lifts a hand in response, then tucks it back against his chest, turning back to the pitch and squaring his shoulders as the first half begins.

Richmond is playing well; Isaac has stepped up and really filled Roy’s shoes as captain, and all the lads are on the same wavelength, without having to say much of anything to one another. He hates to admit it, but Roy wonders if the seamless communication doesn’t have something to do with the scavenger hunt they’d hosted in the locker room last night. Ted had blindfolded half of the players, and made the other half sit on the bench and shout directions. The whole thing had been a mess, but then they’d passed around the bottle of vodka he’d stashed behind the clean boots as a prize, and everyone had left smiling. If that’s it, Roy can’t deny the results, but he’ll damn sure try.

That’s what he’s thinking about a few minutes later when he turns around again, looking for Keeley in the stands. He’s always looking for her, when he doesn’t have to be watching every second of the match. She’s almost always watching him right back, before he’s even looking at her. And half the time, he’ll feel his phone vibrate in his pocket. Even if he can’t check it until halftime, he knows it’s a comment on the quality of the plays, or the other team’s kits, or how much she likes the view of his ass from the box.

But now, when he looks, he can’t find her anywhere. He looks again, trying to pick her out in the sea of Richmond jerseys. Most of the faces are strangers, but he can distinguish between them. All the way at the top, where Keeley had been sitting before, it’s just Rebecca and Higgins now, an empty seat folded up between them.

Roy stares for a moment, waiting for her to reappear with a soft pretzel or something. But she doesn’t. Eventually, Rebecca catches his eyeline, and shakes her head. Her lips move, but there’s no way Roy can make out the words. All he knows is that Keeley has disappeared, and judging from Rebecca’s gesture, she’s been gone for more than a few minutes.

Something isn’t right; he can feel it in his stomach. And in his knee, but that’s more from the impending winter. The feeling about Keeley, that sits deep in his gut, twisting and knotting around his organs as he turns back to the pitch.

The lads are lining up the next play, but Ted, Nate and Beard are spread out along the sideline. Roy sidesteps around Beard, almost trips over Nate when he moves back just as Roy passes behind him, and finally comes to a stop next to Ted.

"Coach?”

“What’s up, Roy?” Ted doesn’t turn toward him, but he leans in Roy’s direction, and he knows he’s got the man’s full attention.

He hears the announcer take notice of his new position, the commentary echoing around them.

On Richmond’s side of the field, former team member turned coach Roy Kent is vying for the attention of head coach Ted Lasso. The players are lined up; what could he be saying?

But Roy doesn’t say anything. He just points, arms still folded across his chest, until Ted looks up to the stands behind them.

Both coaches now, looking up at the audience. Surely they’re not surprised at the show of support for the Richmond Greyhounds? They’ve sold out almost every game since their relegation …

The rest of the announcement fades to the background when understanding spreads across Ted’s face. Roy knows he’s seen the empty seat, knows he’ll understand the concern Roy can’t put into words. He raises an eyebrow when Tim looks back to his face, and the other coach nods.

“Just be in the locker room for halftime, yeah? The guys are countin’ on you for a speech to hype them up for the rest of the game.”

Roy jerks his chin up and down, then heads for the tunnel that’ll take him out of view of the crowds. The announcer’s voice comes behind him again.

Coach Kent, now heading off of the pitch. Makes you wonder what’s going on for the Greyhounds. Have they sent a coach away in the middle of a match, or did he ask to be excused? And why? But gameplay continues without him …

It’s only a few steps before he’s in the locker room, trying to shake off the memory of the last time he’d left the pitch before a match was up. It’s empty, no signs of another occupant, but the solitude gives him an opportunity to fish his phone out of his pocket.

No texts, no missed calls. Right away, he dials Keeley’s number.

If you’re looking for the PR Manager for the Richmond Greyhounds, leave a message for Keeley Jones after the beep. If you’re trying to reach your best friend Keeley for a round of drinks, hang up and text me. Oh, and Rebecca? If it’s too long to text, I’ll check my emails soon. Kisses!

“Oi, it’s me,” Roy all but grunts into the speaker when Keeley’s voicemail recording is done. “You’re not in your seat. Not that you have to be, but Rebecca hadn’t seen you, and I didn’t …” he trails off, suddenly afraid of sounding clingy and controlling. “Anyway, call me when you get this.”

He stares at his home screen after he hangs up, a selfie Keeley had nabbed his phone to take. He’s got an arm wrapped around her shoulders and his lips pressed against her temple, and her face is scrunched up in laughter. It’s ridiculous, the first time anyone but a blood relative has ever been his background, but he can’t help smiling at it, even as the worry knots itself tighter in his stomach.

When he can’t stand it any longer, he texts Rebecca.

You seen her?

Her reply is almost instant.

Not since she left. I have her coat, phone is in the pocket. Heard it ring.

Well, shit. She doesn’t have her phone, and as far as Roy knows, nobody has any idea where his girlfriend is.

But then there’s a sniffle from inside one of the toilet stalls. He’d know that sound anywhere; it’s the same noise Keeley makes every time they watch a Disney film together, right before he teases her for crying and she pokes fun right back at how he’s not.

He’d peered under the doors when he walked in, checking for feet, but he knocks on the stall anyway.

“Keeley?” He calls, pushing the door open slowly. Sure enough, she’s inside, sitting with her feet tucked up onto the seat, head wedged between her knees and hands clamped tightly around the back of her skull. “Babe, what’s going on?”

“It’s so … it’s so loud out there,” she whispers, but doesn’t look up. “All the yelling and shouting and cheering. It’s a good thing, I know, that the fans are engaged, but it was just pounding on my brain, making my eyes go all spotty. I tried to stick it out, Roy, really; I know how much these games mean to you, to the whole team. But then I felt like I was going to vomit and-” Keeley chokes on a sob. “I couldn’t find anywhere else quiet to go.”

“Right, well come on,” Roy reaches out slowly and squeezes one of her shoulders. “There’s got to be somewhere better to sit than a men’s toilet stall. You’ve met the lads, they’re disgusting.”

Keeley chuckles, thick and teary, but drops her knees and lets Roy pull her to her feet. As soon as she’s standing, she wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his chest. It can’t be too comfortable; he hasn’t taken off the Richmond windbreaker he wears for every game, but Keeley relaxes when Roy doesn’t push her away. Instead, he locks his arms around her shoulders and walks them both slowly back until he can drop onto one of the benches. Keeley stays leaned against him, but brings one hand up to cover her eyes where the harsh lighting seeps in.

“Alright, now, what is it?” Roy asks, when Keeley hasn’t said anything for a while. “You seemed alright when we left this morning.”

“I was. Or, I thought I was anyway. Just a little tired, maybe, but that was all. It was fine until the car ride, but then I got really queasy, and my head started throbbing.” Roy reaches up to scratch his fingers gently through her hair and she sighs. “It got a little better when we got out of the car, but then it was just so-”

“Loud, I know,” he finishes for her, then they both fall silent.

Exhaustion. Nausea. Headache. His sister had those symptoms once, just shy of eight years ago.

Shit.

“Keel. You don’t think you’re … You – we – couldn’t be … you aren’t …"

“What?”

“Um, pregnant? I know we’re careful, but …" Keeley cuts him off with a laugh that turns into a whimper, and he tightens his hold on her.

“No. Definitely not. Not this week, for sure. Just a migraine, I think. Used to get them sometimes, but it’s been a bit.”

“Good,” Roy sighs. “I mean, someday, maybe, but not …”

“Not yet,” Keeley agrees, and something goes warm in his chest, knowing that they’re on the same page. Right now, they don’t need to worry about anything except getting Keeley back in fighting shape.

“Have you taken anything?” She nods against his chest.

“This morning, um, in the car. It didn’t help much. Just need it dark. And quiet.”

“OK, that’s alright,” Roy whispers, dropping his voice even quieter. “It should be almost half, what say we find somewhere else for you to hole up before everyone comes barging in like heathens?”

He’s not sure exactly where they can go, but he knows he’s got to get Keeley out of the locker room before they clear the players off the pitch. She shrugs half-heartedly, and lets Roy pull her back to her feet. He doesn’t have a plan yet, but he starts walking them slowly toward the door as he looks around. There are no offices in here, no treatment rooms or storage closets.

He hasn’t checked the time since he found Keeley, but he’s played enough years of football that his body’s internal clock can feel the seconds ticking away. There’s maybe two or three minutes left, and Ted wants him to give the halftime pep talk. If he asked, if he explained everything, he could probably get out of it, maybe trade Beard for next week or something. Keeley needs him.

But the team needs him too.

All at once, it hits him.

Rebecca.

Rebecca doesn’t have a role in the halftime routine. There’s nothing happening on the field and she almost never comes to the locker room before the match ends. And she’s got a car here; that’s somewhere quiet Keeley can sit, at least until the second half gets underway.

He wiggles his phone out of his pocket again and reopens the text thread.

Found her in locker room. Migraine. Can you meet us and take her outside for halftime? Ted wants me to give speech.

Rebecca doesn’t reply, but a minute or so later, Roy hears the steady click-clack of her heels coming down the hall. Keeley whimpers, and he presses a kiss to her hair as the door swings open.

“Hey,” he says, shifting around to look at Rebecca.

“Hello,” she whispers back.

“Hey, Keeley, Rebecca’s here now,” Roy tips his face back down to whisper against the shell of her ear. “Think you can make it outside with her?”

“We can head back to the hotel, Keeley, if you think that’d help? It’s only a few minutes’ drive.”

“Yeah, ‘s quieter there,” she says, but doesn’t move.

“And I’ll meet you there just as soon as the match is done, hmm?” He runs his fingers up and down her arm, shifting away slightly. “Here, want to take my sunglasses, block out some of the light?”

At that, Keeley squeezes her eyes shut and turns her face up toward Roy. He chuckles and slides his glasses over her eyes, then brushes a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Alright then, off you go,” He lets Rebecca take her by the arm and lead her back out of the locker room, trying to ignore the way his heart clenches at the sight of her trudging away, hunched over against her own discomfort.

He’ll be back with her soon enough. But the door has no more than swung shut behind them when it bounces open again. Jamie and Sam are leading the pack, the whole team piling in around him.

As usual, their energy is infectious, and Roy finds himself slapping hands and patting backs as he makes his way across the room to where Ted is bringing up the rear.

“Hey, Roy, you get everything all squared away?”

“For now. Rebecca’s taking Keeley back to the hotel; she’s not feeling well.” He should have known better than to hope that Ted Lasso would ever let anything drop with a simple explanation.

“Well that’d explain the text message I got from Boss Lady asking if she’d be alright rooming with me tonight.” Roy’s eyebrows go up at that. “And I’m guessin’ from the look on your face that she didn’t mention anything about that to you? Aw, geez, I hope I didn’t spoil a surprise or anything. But the cat’s out of the metaphorical bag now, isn’t it? So I might as well tell you that I told her that I was a-OK with switching up the room arrangements if that’s what’s best for everyone tonight. Thataways you can keep an eye on Keeley, and down the hall we can have Biscuits with the Boss: Evening Edition. How’s that sit with you?”

“Honestly, Ted, I have no opinion on what time of day you eat biscuits,” Roy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But thanks. I think. For making sure I can be there for Keeley.”

“We’re all on the same team here, right? What’s good for the goose and all that, we’re at our best when everyone is at their own, individual best. Hey, speaking of, there are some guys in here, waiting for someone to put a little extra pep in their step for the back end of this game. If you’re not up for it, I can see what Coach Beard has up his sleeve, or-”

“No, it’s fine,” Roy cuts him off before the rambling can reach full speed again. “I’ve got this one.”

He turns back to the group, and yells for everyone to listen up. When he’s got their attention, he takes a deep breath.

“What you’re doing on the pitch today, it’s fucking amazing,” he starts. “Not the score, though that’s pretty alright too. But that doesn’t matter half as much as how you’re playing. Hell, you assholes keep communicating this well, you’re going to put us coaches out of a job. I know Ted’s all about the rhymes and anecdotes and shit, but that’s not … I’m not a walking greeting card store,” everyone chuckles, Ted included. “But get back out there, keep working together, and dammit, make the four of us redundant!”

There’s a round of half-sarcastic applause, then Ted steps forward.

“Alright, y’all heard the man. Don’t get tired, get us fire—well, actually, don’t get us fired. That’s not … take the sentiment of what Roy said, but do me a favor and don’t take him literally. I like working with y’all. Anyway, Coach Beard’s gonna take it from here, walk y’all through a couple plays for the second half.”

The players cluster around Beard and his whiteboard diagram, and Ted finds his way back over to Roy at the back of the group.

“You know, if you need to head out a little early today, we can pull through without you. Sometimes a team is strongest when it’s split up to work on all the different things it needs to get done. Like taking care of each other.”

Any other day, he likes to think he’d insist on staying for the rest of the match. But if he’s honest with himself, he knows that he’ll put Keeley first anytime she needs him to.

“That’d be great, Ted. Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem, Roy. I’ll come check up on y’all when we get back?” Roy nods and shakes Ted’s hand quickly, then slips out of the locker room while Beard is saying something about the Sheffield players having “lots of power, like a high-watt light bulb.”

He doesn’t have a car, doesn’t feel like waiting on an Uber, so it’s a half-hour's walk back to the hotel. When he gets there, Rebecca is already waiting for him in the lobby.

“Ted gave me your room number,” she starts, as soon as they’ve said their hellos. “Keeley’s up there lying down. I, uh, I assumed yours was the bed with the unicorn on it?”

“It’s Phoebe’s,” he groans. “But yes.”

“I’m sure.” But she’s smirking like she might not be. “Anyway, Ted’s things are already taken care of, and I think I got everything of Keeley’s into your room, but she unpacked her entire suitcase first thing, so I might’ve missed some shoes or something.”

“No problem. She’ll get them back, I’m sure. Thanks for taking care of her.”

“Anytime, Roy. Really. I’m just down the hall, if either of you need anything.”

Roy nods his thanks and steps into the elevator.

He swipes his key card to unlock the door, then turns the handle and pushes it open slowly. The lights are turned off, and the curtains drawn, so he makes his way carefully, trying to remember if these rooms have any wayward furniture for him to stumble over.

Thankfully, the walkway is clear. He sits gently on the edge of his bed, smiling when the Keeley-shaped lump of covers shifts closer to him.

“Hey, babe,” she mutters.

“Hi,” Roy presses his lips together and pats what he thinks is probably her knee through the blankets. “Feeling better?”

“A little. Rebecca gave me water. And it’s quiet here.”

“Yeah, it is.” He’s not sure what else to say, but Keeley saves him from having to carry on the conversation.

“There’s a unicorn on your bed. ‘S soft.”

“His name is Captain McKibbin,” Roy replies, rolling his eyes even though he knows she can’t see from here. “I’ll tell Phoebe you like him.”

“Please do.”

“Anything else you need?”

“Just you,” she says, and it’s so quietly honest that if Roy weren’t already pretty sure he’s in love with her, it would have sealed the deal. He toes his shoes off and shimmies out of his windbreaker and trousers.

“Alright, well shove over then,” he teases, nudging her shoulder until there’s room for him to lie down beside her. When he pulls the covers back, he recognizes the hoodie she’s wearing as the one he’d crammed into the top of his bag when he packed last night. It’s three sizes too big, and she’s got one of her own just like it, but she looks far better in Roy’s than he ever will.

As soon as he’s lying down, Keeley is turning over and fitting herself against his side, tucking her face back into his bare chest. It’s still early in the evening, and Roy knows that if he falls asleep now, he’ll spend all week regretting it. But Keeley needs the rest, and there’s not much he can do without turning on the TV or lighting up his phone screen.

Besides, one afternoon nap never killed anyone, right?

So he closes his eyes and listens to her steady breathing. When Keeley wakes up, hopefully the worst of the migraine will have passed, and she’ll feel more like herself again. Roy knows they’ve got a pass on team bonding tonight, if they need it, and he doesn’t want to push Keeley into anything she’s not up for. But rumor has it that Beard found a pub with a bowling alley in it, and that’s bound to be entertaining, no matter the scores at the end of the night.

For right now, though, the only thing that matters is Keeley, curled up against him and warmer than all the blankets stacked on top of them. She’s asleep, and he’s following close behind, and nothing matters beyond the comfort they share.

Not migraines, or bowling, or trick plays, or shoes that might have been left down the hall, or anything but Roy and Keeley and this moment together, in the dark and the quiet.

Just them.

[astrablossom]

Fairy MC Headcanons with Brothers and Undateables SFW & NSFW

*Gender is not specified

Lucifer: You probably met him one day when Diavolo asked him to search for a certain kind of flower located deep in the Devildom woods.

As it turns out the flower was actually your home and Lucifer was surprised when he sees a very naked fairy squeaking in his face, looking rather upset. Eventually after much consideration he offers for you to stay in The House of Lamentation. He forces you to wear some type of clothing despite your complaints. At first he isn't very keen to having you in his ear constantly but you prove useful when you can spy on his brothers.

NSFW: Fairies often times prefer to be in the nude, it's natural to them. So when he catches you naked he is quick to punish you. Will tie your body up with crazy precision and spreads your legs open. Will poke your sex around with a safe tool and watch you come undone on his table. His red eyes examine your body the whole time.

Mammon: When Lucifer brought you in he didn't think much of it. It wasn't until he realized you were squealing on him to Lucifer that he got annoyed. Be prepared for him to use you in quick-fix money schemes. He might ask you to bust into Diavolo's castle because you're super tiny. Eventually you two become good friends and he finds you really cute when you take naps in his hair. Will avert his eyes if he sees you naked. You are also someone he can talk too when he feels down in the dumps and appreciates when you just listen to him.

NSFW: It's funny how a tiny fairy has so much power over this avatar. He really likes when you sit down on his face and allow him to eat you out. Likes when you praise him for how big his tongue is. If you're elf size he enjoys watching you trying to suck his dick in one go. He kind of likes coating you head to toe in his spunk and watching you lick it up.

Leviathan: It takes awhile before he starts talking to you and if you're a delivery fairy he'll thank you sometimes for delivering his packages. Will definitely ask you to dress up as Ruri-Chan. You're the perfect size and you look like a limited edition with your wings! Likes when you cheer him on during his games. He once posted a picture of you scarfing down a grape with the hashtag #gremlinfairy.

NSFW: What that tongue do though. And the tail. If you talk it out and reassure him that he won't hurt you he'll wrap his tail around you and lift your tiny body in the air as he pushes his tongue into you. A forked tongue feels different because he can flick it with accuracy. Will have you cumming in minutes. He might take photos to stash away. If you try to pleasure him go for his nipples and he'll be putty in your hands.

Satan: Very curious about meeting you. He's seen his fair share of fairies but now he is living with one. You two are reading buddies and sometimes you'll take turns reading a book. You'll make book sessions on Friday, Satan with a copy in his hand and you sitting on a nearby table with a big copy in front of you. He finds it adorable when you have to stand up to turn the whole page. At times he'll let you read on his shoulder.

NSFW: Will ask for you to reenact some scene from his favorite novels concerning a fairy and a being from hell. Has you dressed up in the same outfit describe in the book and you speak your lines, watching Satan slowly approaching you on the bed. It's honestly intimidating. He uses his teeth to shred your clothes and will press his finger into you as you two reenact the lewd scene. You were so so tiny, he thinks he might have a size kink. Likes when you kiss him too. Even if they size difference is evident the sessions are more hot.

Asmodeus: Find you extremely adorable and vouches with you for Lucifer to lift the nude ban. He likes dressing you up in all sorts of outfits and takes you shopping a lot. Enjoys poking your cheek and feeding you food. The both of you take baths together and he thinks it cute seeing a tiny fairy swimming in his bath. Will probably post pictures of you on his Devilgram. When you paint his nails it's so accurate and he sobs over it.

NSFW: Will ask if you take nude photos with him. Not for lewd reason but because he knows you're comfortable like that. He believes nudity is a art in it's own right and with the help of Mammon you two will have a private photoshoot. One photo Asmodeus likes the most is with you peeking behind a rose meanwhile his intimate parts are littered with it, him looking up the air. You both look amazing and make the front cover of the Devildom equivalent of Vogue. (Douge? Devouge? Devilouge?)

Beelzebub: Someone's been eating his food. And whenever he looks at it, it's always small nibbles so he knows it isn't his brothers. One night when he goes to eat a midnight snack he finds you in the fridge head deep in one of his puddings. At first he is upset but when he sees you looking up at him with the puppy eyes he let's you off with a warning. You start to see little treats being left around for you. Will also give you rides on his head. If you go to his games he can't hear you cheer but he knows you're there.

NSFW: Afriad he'll accidentally eat you so you have to get a little bigger before he does anything. He doesn't have a size kink per say but there is something very cute about him pushing you back till your toes are above your head and sinking his cock into you that makes him blush. The size difference is crazy and the faces you make makes him more eager to screw you into the sheets. When he is done he leaves a huge gaping hole in you, cum oozing out and it reminds him of frosting. Now he's hungry again. Expect snacks in bed after cleanup.

Belphegor: Finds you incredibly annoying, especially when you accidentally knock something down and wake him from his nap. You have to steer clear of him for a bit. However there was this one time he was going to sleep in the living room only to see you asleep on top of a pillow, snoozing away. You looked super comfortable and he smirks before yelling in your ear. The bastard chuckles when you start screaming at him to apologize, pulling his cheek as to try and inflict pain.

NSFW: The bratty demon is lazy as fuck so you'll have to do the work. He'll keep his tongue out, occasionally sucking as you try to find release on his face. However if you catch him in breeding season you have to become elf size because he will grab you and lock himself in the attic with you. The amount of energy he has is crazy and so is the look in his eyes. Will continuously pound into you in front a mirror, growing in your ear at how his cock is making a indent in your stomach. When he cums he cums. This dude is so backed up and will have cum oozing out of all your holes. And then he will probably eat it out of you. That's the only time he gets super active. Other times you can try waking him up with a little suck to his morning wood.

Diavolo: Constantly always looking around for you because he can hear your voice but you're so tiny it takes a while for him to see you. When he busy with a lot of paper work, you'll quietly fly in with a tea bag in your hand and buzz around making tea before landing upside down on his nose, reminding him to take a break. You'll sprinkle a bit of fairy dust from your wings to make it taste sweeter and he thanks you for that.

You once called him out for staring at Simeon's hips too long and he doesn't even feel embarrassed. He is simply enjoying the view.

NSFW: Haha. Big dick energy to the rescue. Will you be able to walk after this? One time he shoved himself too fast and you came from just the pressure alone. He likes to adorn you with his riches, admiring how some of it slinks over your tiny form and will ask you to masturbate for him. Even if he's doing work he is watching you so don't you dare stop. He demands for you to spread your legs and will have little mirrors set before you so he can see you from all angles. When you do cum it's all over his riches and he gets a high from knowing you are his. If you're elf size you can only fit the tip in your mouth, you gotta use your whole body to get him off and he have you doing this even during work hours. You're like a koala wrapped around his monster dick.

Barbatos: You two barely talk beyond basic greetings but sometimes you'll help in the kitchen, flying down ingredients and taste testing for him. If you two are having a tea break he'll make sure to have a tiny tea cup just for you. Smiles when you eat the strawberry blood biscuits he made while you converse about non practical things.

NSFW: He doesn't have a lot of free time so the most you two can do is quick make out sessions which ends with you having to deal with his erection. Barbatos makes soft fluttery moans to your surprise and cums a lot from being backed up. He'll apologize if he gets too much on you but be prepared for his day off, he pay you back tenfold.

Solomon: Shady boy here just like Satan finds you interesting and will poke at you to tell him more about your species. He lets you lay on his hair for naps. Will bottle your fairy dust for later use and introduces you to Luke and Simeon. There was this one time you followed him to one of his meetings concerning his pact and never did you looked at him the same way again.

NSFW: Being around demons and angels does a little number to his ego so please talk about how big his dick is if you catch on. Will probably whip up a spell so you're human size and can get down properly. Although he isn't the biggest he makes up in technique. He really likes when you wear his robes and surprisingly likes when you try to cover your mouth not to moan. It means he's doing a job well done.

Simeon: Very kind and sweet to you and makes his famous BLT devil sandwich which was a blessing. You two will often joke about Lucifer and Diavolo and- oh is his cheeks getting a bit warm? There is something in his eyes you can't pinpoint when he talks about his time with Lucifer. Sometimes you watch movies with him. He'll have a bucket of popcorn meanwhile you have a kernel in your lap.

When you called out Diavolo for staring at him he gets slightly flustered and looks away abashed. He misses the smirk Diavolo shoots him and you catch on quickly.

NSFW: Catch him praying that he doesn't become fallen for committing such sinful deeds. Very vanilla and is always asking how you feel. When he pressed his tongue against you, you can see how concentrated he is. If you're pleasing him he lets out small sighs and praises you immensely. Occasionally you'll hear him saying "forgive me."

Bonus!

Luke (SFW Only): You two become friends immediately. The puffiness of his hat amazes you and you like to sit on it although he complains. Will give him fairy recipes and aid him in cooking. His cheeks are so adorable and you find yourself pinching them which feel weird to him. If you complain about the brothers he'll feel pity for you.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

For a prompt- Pirate Fjord finding a magical surprise in a lead box on a fancy Empire ship? The surprise being Caleb, who is 100% all for joining this because Fjord deffo isn’t empire based.

This ended up longer than I anticipated. I apologize for that.

Enjoy!

"It looks like we found something interesting." The click of Beau's boot against the deck caused some of their captives to instinctively flinch. "You should go check it out. I can keep an eye on them."

"That interesting?"

"You'll see."

After double checking the bonds on everyone, he headed below deck to see for himself what was so interesting. His eyes immediately landed on a large lead box with arcane runes covering seemingly every inch chained to the far wall. While he wasn't trained in arcana, he knew better than go poking when he didn't know exactly what it would do. As he contemplated the best course of action, a sudden thump from the box sent all other thoughts out the window.

On the next thump, he crossed the room to get a better look at the curious box. Despite what he assumed to be warding the box the chains holding it in place were nothing out of the ordinary. A few hits with the Star Razor were all it took to break them free of the wall and send them in a clattering pile on the floor. The thumping picked up with a fury that probably should have worried him.

Instead, his mind jumped to the key he took off the wizard the first chance he got. While he assumed the key would be for a stash of expensive components, the box before him seemed like the more likely candidate. After pulling the box away from the wall, he couldn't resist smiling at the lock he found. The key fit perfectly in the lock.

When he reached to lift the lid, it burst open with enough force that it flew off the hinging and struck the staircase. A pair of fiery blue eyes bore into his so intensely that he had to fight the urge to not look away. Despite part of him expecting to be attacked, he didn't move an inch as he waited for what would come next.

"You're not from the Assembly."

"What?"

The strange glow about them grew slightly brighter as they leaned closer into Fjord's space, which made him acutely aware of their vertical pupils. "You are not from the Assembly."

"No."

"What are you doing here?"

"Uh, is that a trick question?"

"Do you imagine I was getting a lot of information while I was locked in that?"

"No." With a sigh, the person stepped out of the box gave him a curious look as they poked at his coat. "Are you looking for something?"

"You boarded this vessel to steal their cargo."

"Among other things."

"Do you take jobs for money?"

When a hand began to pull back his coat, he caught it in his and moved it away. "I'm a pirate, not a mercenary."

"But you're not here for me?"

"Should I be?"

"They were taking me to someone." Despite his hold on their hand, their fist clench and anger flared in their eyes. "Trent had his fun with his little experiments, but wanted to get something more out of me."

"They were experimenting on you?"

At the slight twitch of their fingers, he pulled down the sleeve of their coat to find fresh scars covering their forearm. When he ran his finger down their arm, a shiver ran through them that brought him to an immediate halt. They blinked at him a few times, then moved a step closer to him.

"What is your name?"

"Caleb."

"Have you always had that name or-"

"It is a bit new. I like it better. Does it matter?"

"No." He motioned at their still exposed forearm. "You said Trent did that to you?"

"Yes, do you know him?"

"Unfortunately. I wouldn't say we've been looking for an excuse to kill him, but we certainly wouldn't pass one up. Is that something you would be interested in?"

"Are you asking me to join you?"

"I'm offering."

"I don't even know your name."

"My crew calls me Captain Tusktooth." He gently brushed a lock of hair out of Caleb's face with a smile. "You can call me Fjord."

"Fjord... I would very much be interested."

"Welcome to the crew."

[drabbles-of-writing]

First Class Mess

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost

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

Living with Edric and Emira had it’s ups and downs.

On one hand, Amity could finally get away from her parents. It wasn’t a permanent living space, and she always made sure to spend at least a few nights at her parents house, excusing her absence as being busy with the Emperor’s Coven. But it was far better than trying to hide at the Owl House where her anxiety spiked through the roof, no offence to the family.

On the other hand, her siblings were an absolute mess.

,

“Rule number five, I don’t wanna see any girlfriends here.”

“Wow, okay, no, I veto that rule.” Emira said immediately, leaning her head off the couch arm to look over at her brother, who was sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, what gives?” Amity agreed, sitting on her knees on the couch.

“Amity, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Emira asked, glancing back at her with a raised brow.

“You and I both know he just means Viney and Luz,” Amity growled, crossing her arms. “He just prefers to use the term girlfriends.”

“I meant they can’t stay over for the night,” Edric said, raising his hands defensively. “This apartment can barely fit the three of us without falling apart.” He said, gesturing to the room around them, which, admittedly, did look pretty ghetto.

“I don’t need to be dealing with you two causing more damage with your little crushes. They’re kind of known for causing trouble.” He said matter-of-factly. “And yes, I’m spreading this to Emira because it’s rude to stick it only on Amity.”

“Wow, thanks,” Amity grumbled as Emira gave an offended gasp.

“Unless someone is dying, I don’t wanna see any dates in here, understand?” Edric said. “At least not until we’ve gotten everything together in some capacity.”

“I resent this rule,” Emira insisted stubbornly.

“Yeah? Well, I’m older, therefore I win.” Edric said smugly.

“Ed, it was by eleven minutes.” ,

And that’s how Amity came to the apartment in the middle of a thunderstorm to find Edric and Jerbo in the kitchen. Both a little too close to be casual.

The second they registered the door opening, Edric sprung back. Jerbo whirled around from where he was perched on the kitchen counter (seriously, that thing can only hold so much weight).

Both of them looked like King when he’d been caught stealing from the fridge for the fifth time that week.

Amity stared at them for a few moments, her brain a little fried from dealing with the pelting boiling rain earlier.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Ed.” She finally said, walking in and kicking the door shut behind her.

“It’s just Jerbo!” Edric defended frantically, looking wildly between Amity and a very perplexed Jerbo.

“The fact you immediately knew which rule I was talking about isn’t helping your situation,” Amity called back, throwing off her overly thick coat onto the hanger by the door, too lazy to take off her Emperor’s Coven cloak on underneath.

“And unless you want Emira to taunt you endlessly, I suggest Jerbo should leave soon. No offence,” She added, looking towards the upperclassmen.

“None taken,” Jerbo said with a wave of his hand. “Viney’s not much different.”

Edric groaned and slumped against the counter beside Jerbo, head hanging. Jerbo gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

Amity kicked off her boots and flopped dramatically onto the couch, waving her hand above her where the boys could see.

“Either go make out downstairs or make up your mind, ‘kay? Cause I’m tired.”

Jerbo made a strangled wheezing-like noise that reminded Amity of a deflating squeaky toy. Edric sprung upwards, flushing brightly.

“We were not making out!” He exclaimed, voice strained. “We were doing nothing even remotely like that, even!”

Amity sat up on the couch, turning her head to look over at her brother with a deadpan stare. She looked like she wanted to say something, but resigned to just sighing and laying back down on the couch.

“Whatever. I’m blackmailing you with this later.”

“You suck,”

,

“Quick question,” Emira said, poking her head into Amity’s room. “I can still get away with doing something illegal here, right?”

Amity looked up from her book, giving her sister a look that said her question was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.

“I’m only a cop when on the clock, Em.” Amity said. “Anything illegal you do when I’m not working is fair game. Legally speaking.”

“Nice,” Emira pumped a fist.

“Can I ask what you’re planning on doing?” Amity raised a brow.

“You gonna rat us out?”

“I’d be a hypocrite if I did. Like somebody in this house!” Amity added the last part notably louder.

“Amity, shut up!” Edric called back.

“...I’m gonna ask about that later.” Emira said, pointing a finger at Amity. “Anyway, Viney can’t afford the supplies she needs to help out some baby bearstripes she found. So we were just gonna steal it and stash the supplies here.”

“You’re whipped,” Edric’s voice floated from the main room.

“Shut it, Ed!” Emira snapped back.

“Yeah, sure, go steal some stuff.” Amity shrugged. “I’m not working till tomorrow.”

“So we can totally commit crimes now?” Edric asked, suddenly appearing being Emira, looking far too excited.

“I mean, yeah, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” Amity said.

“If it’s a bad enough crime I could be put on a mission to hunt the two of you down. Obviously I’m not going to raid this apartment but if I catch you on the streets it is on sight.” She warned.

“Oh, so your little Owl family gets a free pass, but we don’t?” Edric scoffed.

“I do not give them a free pass!” Amity protested. “I throw Eda in jail all the time. I’ve never even had to break her out!”

“Right, sorry,” Emira amended. “Ed meant that your hopeless crush gets a free pass, but we don’t?”

Amity growled and threw her book at the two of them. They quickly jumped back and swung the door shut, letting the book hit it instead.

“That’s a yes,” Edric snickered.

“I’m not the only one who gives crushes a free pass!” Amity shouted after them.

There were a few beats of silence.

“You have got to be kidding me, Ed.”

,

Emira knew the rules of the apartment. Which meant there were barely any and they fluctuated from day to day.

The two big ones were that anything that happened in the apartment was a safe zone, and to avoid bringing over anyone associated with the Owl House, which sadly, included Viney and Jerbo, seeing as they were friends with Luz.

They loved everyone in the Owl House, they really did. But everyone in that family was known to be very chaotic, and they’d probably break the shabby apartment or piss off the neighbors more than the siblings already had.

It was simply a precaution.

Emira, however, was a known rule-breaker.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to find Viney sitting in the living room, currently wrapping up Emira’s sprained wrist.

“You're a mess,” Viney sighed, slowly bandaging her arm. “Can’t you ask your parents to cover your medical bills?”

“Course I can, but at one in the morning?” Emira scoffed, keeping her voice low. “I’ll bug them about it later.”

“Only you would get a sprained wrist and say it’s not that big a deal,” Viney sighed, gently raising Emira’s hand and letting her hand glow, doing her best to ease the pain.

“Eh, I’d say it was worth it anyway,” Emira hissed, flinching as she felt a sharp pain in her wrist.

“Sorry, sorry,” Viney whispered, laying her free hand over Emira’s to hold her still as she slowly healed the sprain as best she could.

“I don’t have any healing glyphs, so you’ll just have to leave it be till morning. The splint should work for now, though.” She continued, looking up at Emira.

Emira was staring at where Viney was holding her hand, blushing with her ears lowered, eyes blown wide.

Though that last part might’ve been because the only light was the moon shining through the small window beside the two.

“Em?” Viney tilted her head, smiling.

“Huh?” Emira jerked her head up. “Sorry, did, uh, did you say something?” 

Viney giggled and removed her glowing hand from Emira’s wrist, though she kept holding up her arm with her other hand.

“You’re ridiculous,” She said, shaking her head.

“All the best people are,” Emira replied, dipping her head to properly meet the shorter witch’s eyes.

Viney smiled and lightly pressed her forehead against Emira’s causing the girl to freeze and stiffen up.

Emira’s face lit up and her eyes darted around, though she didn’t move away.

“S-so, sorry to hi-hide you out here,” She stuttered, shoulders hunched. “But Ed pre-pretty much broke...broke that rule s-so I’m sure it’s not...not that big a--”

“Em,”

Viney leaned forward more and squished their noses together, giving the Blight a rather amused look.

Emira quickly shut her mouth with an audible clack, meeting the witch’s gaze.

Viney slowly tilted her head forward, her eyes closing.

Emira did her best to calm her heart before leaning in as well.

Something clattered, loudly, on the kitchen floor.

Viney froze and jumped back, startled. Emira only slumped, thoroughly annoyed.

“It is one AM!” Emira snapped, leaning around the couch. “Ed, what are you doing--”

It wasn’t Ed.

Amity shut the fridge, a slice of bread in her mouth and a bag of snacks in her hands, along with the cup she had dropped.

She looked over, surprised to see Emira, before morphing into a look of understanding when she saw Viney peek out as well.

Amity took out the bread in her mouth, setting the cup down in it’s previous position by the sink.

“Carry on,” She said calmly, holding her snacks as she walked out of the kitchen and back to her room.

Emira glared in the direction where Amity left for a moment before she heard a snort behind her.

She looked back, seeing Viney was doing her best to smother a laugh.

“...what?” Emira demanded, raising a brow.

Viney broke into a fit of giggles then, barely able to smother a loud laugh that would definitely wake up Edric.

“I’m sorry, it’s just--I wasn’t expecting that!” She snickered. “What’s your sister even doing up this late?”

“I guess being up at ungodly hours just runs in the family,” Emira sighed, embarrassed as she picked up one of the pillows that had fallen off the couch with her uninjured hand and placed it in her lap.

“I take it that was probably my cue to leave,” Viney chuckled, standing up. “My dad will get worried if I’m not there in the morning.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Emira said, visibly deflating.

“Keep off that hand, you hear me?” Viney said, gathering up her bandages and extra splints into her bag. “And go to the hospital to get it properly fixed in the morning.”

“I know, I know,” Emira muttered bitterly, looking up at Viney with puppy-dog eyes. “Do you have to go?”

“Sorry, Em. But I’d rather get at least some amounts of sleep.” Viney said. “I’ll check on you tomorrow, okay?” She said, leaning down and kissing Emira’s forehead.

Emira, somehow, lit up even brighter with her ears twitching downwards. She held her pillow tighter and buried her face in it.

“‘Kay,” She mumbled shlyly.

Viney giggled and stepped back, making her way towards the door. 

“Don’t lay on your hand too much,” She added, opening the door.

“‘Kay,” Emira repeated, lifting her head ever so slightly and watching Viney with one eye.

Viney gave a small wave before stepping out of the apartment, shutting the door behind her.

Emira only continued watching the door where Viney left, absolutely lovestruck.

“All I wanted to get was a drink,” Came a grumble behind her.

“Amity!” Emira gasped, sitting upright and looking around the couch again to see Amity had wandered back in to grab a drink. 

“I didn’t ask to see my sisters failing flirting attempts,” Amity muttered, pouring herself a cup of apple juice.

“Go back to bed!”

“I’d rather die,”

,

“Okay, okay, but what if instead of teeth, the worm had legs inside its mouth.”

“Ed, it’s like, ten. I’m not doing this right now,” Emira groaned, sitting on her bed as Edric sat on the floor beside her.

“Helps keep us awake, doesn’t it?” Edric shrugged. “Shouldn’t Amity have come back by now?”

“Maybe she just decided to sleep over and forgot to tell us,” Emira said, checking her scroll.

Sure enough, her last text from Amity, thirty minutes ago, only said ‘I’ll be back soon.’

“Doesn’t really seem like her, though.” Edric frowned.

The sound of a window opening caught their attention. Both of them scrambled out of Emira’s room and peered around the corner, curious.

Amity crawled in through the window, brushing herself off before turning back around.

Luz was outside the window, standing on her staff as it flew beside the open window. The staff lowered so Luz could learn her arms on the windowsill, giving Amity a smug look.

“See? I’m not that bad of a flier,” She said proudly.

“Uh huh, sure.” Amity said, sounding amused. “After the first couple of terrifying minutes,”

“You wound me,” Luz said with a dramatic sigh. “Why must I be cursed to be with such a cruel witch?”

“Oh hush,” Amity chuckled, batting at Luz’s arm. “You made me late!”

“Was it worth it, though?” Luz said, tilting her head with a grin.

“...yeah,” Amity admitted, turning her head away, a faint blush on her cheeks.

“That’s the Noceda charm for ya,” Luz winked.

“You’re impossible,” Amity grumbled bashfully.

“Yeah, but you like that.” Luz said, leaning forward through the window.

“Very much so,” Amity agreed, meeting Luz’s chaste kiss with a smile.

“Wha--”

Edric, who had been leaning too far out, fumbled and fell over with a loud thump. Much to Emira’s chagrin.

Amity broke the kiss and whirled around, face flushing even more when she spotted both of her siblings.

“When did you two get here?” She demanded, pressing back on the windowsill, where Luz was now staring in, startled.

“We live here, Amity.” Emira deadpanned, not bothering to help up Edric. “And you have some explaining to do, young lady!”

“I think I’m just gonna…” Luz slowly flew a few feet away from the window. “I think I’m gonna go…”

“Yeah, you probably should.” Amity sighed, looking back. “Bye, Luz.” “See you tomorrow,” Luz gave a shy smile before sitting appropriately on her staff and flying off in a flash, clearly embarrassed about the situation as well.

“Hold on!” Edric shot up from the floor. “Since when was this a thing?”

“It was recent,” Amity grumbled, shutting the window.

“Are you telling me our Mittens got herself a girlfriend?” Emira asked excitedly, spinning the girl around.

“I can’t believe she beat me,” Edric muttered, crossing his arms as he sat dramatically on the couch.

“Suck it,” Amity teased, sticking out her tongue. “And listen, I was planning on telling you, but it was pretty recent and we didn’t really--”

“How recent, exactly?” Emira raised a disbelieving brow.

Amity looked away, ears flicked back.

“Like a week and a half...?”

“...that’s reasonable.” Emira nodded, releasing her sister. “And it was about time, too!” She said, ruffling her hair.

Amity slapped away her sister's hands, embarrassed as Edric gave her a grin.

“Guess we gotta compete for second place, huh?” Edric teased.

“You and I both know you and Jerbo couldn’t ask the other on a date to save your sanities.”

“I never said it was Jerbo!” Edric squawked.

The sisters shared a knowing look but didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, I’m tired. I had a long day,” Amity said, walking by her siblings. “I’m gonna head to bed.”

“Try not to get lost dreaming about that heart-stealer of yours!” Emira called after her.

“Don’t make me come back out there!” Amity’s voice warned from around the corner.

“Whatever you say, Mittens!”

,

Amity wasn’t used to late-night shifts.

Coming to the apartment early in the morning was a pain. Her mask was pushed up on her head as she walked into the apartment on quiet feet, ready to collapse and sleep all day.

Edric was in the kitchen.

He was never up this early.

His elbows were leaning on the kitchen counter, and he was covering his face with one hand, his other clenched into a fist on the counter.

Amity blinked and took off her mask, setting it on the coat hanger and slowly walking over, worry evident on her face.

“Ed?” She asked quietly.

Edric jolted and jerked his head up, expression flashing to that of momentary fear.

He was crying.

“Mi-Mittens!” Edirc gasped, quickly wiping at his eyes. “I-I didn’t hear you come...come in,”

“Edric?” Amity rushed over around the counter, gently grabbing her older brother's arm. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He said, giving her a sorrowfully forced smile. “Was, er, cutting some tear-peppers earlier and it hasn’t gone away yet.”

Amity sighed and looked up at her brother.

“Ed, that’s the worst lie I’ve ever heard.” She said bluntly. “What happened?” She asked again, her voice softer.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about it,” Edric insisted. “It’s my job to look after you, remember?”

“You're my brother, not my dad, thank Titan.” Amity muttered. “I’m not thirteen, Ed.” She continued. “You can tell me,”

Edric gazed down at his little sister for a moment. He swallowed before sighing and letting his shoulders slump.

“Just a little stressed,” He admitted, turning away to stare at the empty counter. “You know, what with trying to actually make a living without mom or dad's help.” He sighed.

“And then there’s the whole rebellion thing me and Em are working on. And that stupid tennant I hate. And trying to find a decent part of the Illusion Coven to join, since we definitely want to stick to that.” He continued.

“And…” He glanced down at Amity. “Well, let’s just say that fear of loneliness isn’t looking too irrational right now,” He said, sounding like he was seconds away from breaking down, hands shaking.

“Hey, that’s not true,” Amity said, squeezing Edric’s arm. “Me and Em aren’t gonna leave you.”

“Amity, you’re in the Emperor’s Coven. You're a spy. You're part of something big.” Edric shook his head. “You’ve got a lot ahead of you.”

“And Em…” He looked away. “Em’s got something going for her. You don’t become mom's favorite by being mediocre.”

“Who cares what mom thinks?” Amity demanded. “She isn’t worth either of our times. Last I checked, she was just as mean on Emira after you flunked the Emperor’s Coven tryouts as she was with you.”

“...she said a lot of things you didn’t hear,” Edric said quietly. “I’m grateful you were at the Owl House.” He murmured. “You deserve a place like that.”

Amity stared up at her brother, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Just how long, she wondered, had Edric been hiding these things from her? From Em?

She leaned against his side, burying her head in the crook of his arm.

“You deserve it, too.” She said softly. “You were able to stand up to mom, you made your own choices and even let me live with you…I couldn’t do those on my own.” She shut her eyes.

“You never gave up, even after all that. That’s what I always liked about you, y’know?”

She felt Edric stiffen and shutter, trying to hold back cries as tears freely fell down his face. He drew an arm around his little sister, pulling her close and pressing his nose into her hair.

They stayed like that for a while. Holding each other in silent reassurances.

,

It was late in the afternoon, sunset fast approaching.

The three siblings were all at different places in the apartment, for once, having a moment of peace among them.

That was, until, the power cut out.

Amity raised her head from where she was reading on the couch. Edric paused making his sandwich and Emira poked her head out of her room.

None of them said a word for a few moments.

“Did you two seriously forget to pay the power bill?” Amity broke the silence.

“I swore I paid it!” Edric insisted. “They didn’t give a notice or anything!”

“You just keep forgetting to close the mailbox, you great idiot!” Emira growled, walking into the main room. “Maybe they just got lost or something.”

Amity got off the couch and opened the apartment door, peering out. 

There were no lights in the hallways, and she could see a few other tenants looking out in confusion as well.

“Nope, it’s a complex issue.” Amity said, looking back. “Whole place lost power.”

“Fantastic,” Emira grumbled. “In the beginning of winter!”

“At least there isn’t any snow yet,” Amity shrugged.

“We’re going to freeze to death in like half an hour.” Edric sighed, stepping out from behind the counter.

“I’m sure I could find some blankets,” Emira insisted.

“You guys know we could just like...go to the Owl House?” Amity raised a brow.

Both her siblings turned to stare at her, blinking dumbfoundedly.

“...right, you guys don’t go there as often.” Amity mumbled quietly. “Look, how about we just head on over? Eda will understand. This should only last for a day or so, anyway.”

“So long I’m not freezing, I’ll take it.” Edric said, already grabbing his coat.

“Isn’t it a bit late?” Emira worried.

“Someone in that house is always awake, no matter the hour.” Amity assured her. “They won’t mind.”

“Yeah, because you have special girlfriend status,” Edric teased.

“Jealous,” Amity shot back, a blush coming to her cheeks as she held the door open for her siblings. “The Owl House has its own power, anyway. So it should be fine.”

“And if not, you get to snuggle up to Luz,” Emira taunted.

“I’m going to let Fang bite both of you,” Amity threatened, walking out after her siblings and through the dark hallways of the apartment complex.

“Ha! Jokes on you, he already bit me.” Edric said proudly. “I’m immune.”

“That’s not how that works.” ,

“Hi, Amity!” Hooty greeted, well before the Blight siblings were at the front porch.

“Can it, Hooty.” Amity said with a sneer. “Tell Eda we’re here,”

“Oh, she already knows.” Hooty said cheerfully. “Luz saw you through the--”

The door was suddenly swung open, and Hooty’s face smashed against the side of the house, much to his complaints.

Eda stood there, looking over the two young-adults and teenager with a confused, but not unwelcome expression.

“Didja get kicked out of your apartment?” She inquired, flicking an ear.

“Power went out,” Emira explained. “Amity said you’d let us stay while it gets fixed?”

“What did I say about making decisions for me?” Eda scolded the girl. “I keep getting Luz’s friends showing up because you insist that I’ll let them in.”

“And yet, you never disappoint,” Amity said with a grin. “May we come in?”

Eda muttered under her breath about kids these days before stepping aside, allowing the three to wander on in.

“Amity,” Lilith greeted from where she was having a cup of tea on the couch. Amity swore that woman was addicted to the stuff.

“Amity!” Luz said at the same time, much more enthused as she rushed from the window and enveloped the witch in a hug. “What’s with the party?” She asked.

“Power problems,” Emira explained for her flustered sister. “We’re just gonna hang here for a bit. Don’t let us invade your mushy time,” She teased, stepping around them and looking at the house.

“Aw, come on!” King complained, crawling out from underneath the table in front of the couch. “Now I’ll never get sleep with a bunch of teenagers around.”

“Excuse you, we’re nineteen! Legal adults,” Edric corrected.

“Same difference,”

Lilith rolled her eyes and offered tea to the twins. Emira accepted it while Edric hung up their coats, watching as both his sisters seamlessly fit right into the discussions of the Owl family, despite their sudden intrusion.

He smiled to himself, slowly looking around the Owl House.

Yeah, they’d picked a good family.

,

It was late.

Amity hadn’t made it home.

Emira had called the Owl House to see if Amity was there. They said she’d left two hours earlier, and were surprised to hear she hadn’t made it back to the apartment yet.

They said Amity had left after getting a call from their mother.

It was nearly midnight.

Edric was beside himself with worry, pacing the living room.

They’d even called up Keene, the second-in-command of Amity’s Emperor’s Coven group. She had given his number to them for strict emergencies.

He hadn’t seen her either.

“I’m going to go look for her,” Edric said, breaking Emira out of her train of thought and storming towards the door. “Something must have happened with mom and dad.”

“I’ll wait for her here,” Emira nodded. “I’ll call you if she--”

Right as Edric was about to open the apartment door, it swung open very aggressively.

“Amity!” The twins exclaimed.

The seventeen-year-old stood hunched in the doorway, head hanging and bangs covering her eyes. She was shaking, violently. She was still in her Emperor’s Coven outfit, as she had visited the Owl House first and didn’t have a spare change of clothes.

“Where have you been?” Edric asked worriedly, crouching down. She was always shorter than them. “We were worried sick!”

“Did something happen?” Emira added, getting off the couch. “Mittens?”

The girl raised her head, and the twins gave a sharp intake of breath.

Amity’s face was stained with tears, her eyes red and swollen. She had a dark, angry purple bruise on her left cheek, and was rubbing at her left wrist.

“What happened?” Emira demanded, shutting the door as Edric pulled Amity into the apartment.

“I-I,” Amity stuttered, fresh tears already beginning to leak from her eyes as her siblings gently led her to the couch and sat on either side of her.

“I didn’t mean to,” Amity sniffled, shoulders trembling. “I didn’t mean to say it, I didn’t, I--”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Edric comforted, holding her hands to stop her messing with her wrist. “Just tell us what happened, Amity.”

Amity took in sharp, shaky breaths for a few moments, trying to calm herself down.

“M-mom wanted me to c-come home,” She explained, though the twins already knew. “She...she told me it was because I left something there. I-I went over and...and,”

She bit her lip, holding back a cry as Emira gently placed a hand on her back.

“She got mad,” Amity said, her voice rattly. “She...she said she talked to Keene and-and he said I wasn’t spending as much t-time at the Coven as I said...he...he didn’t know--”

“Hey, we know, we know,” Emira said softly. “What else?”

“Sh-she demanded to know where I-I’d been,” Amity sniffled, holding herself. “I did...didn’t want to tell her, so I,” She inhaled. “I got mad...I got mad, I told her it wasn’t...wasn’t her business…I didn’t even really li-live with her…”

The twins fearfully glanced at each other. Nobody talked back to their mother. Not unless they wanted a death sentence.

Edric raised his hand and Amity flinched, and he felt a stab of pain in his chest.

He slowly, and genty, brushed his hand by her shoulder, right below where her bruise was.

“It...it didn’t go well,” Amity murmured, pulling off her gloves and revealing she had a bruise around her left wrist, looking like she had been sharply grabbed.

“Did mom do this?” Emira demanded quietly, gesturing to the nasty mark on her face.

Amity didn’t answer.

“She said sorry right after,” Amity mumbled, almost inaudible.

The twins stared, horror striking them to the core. Edric wrapped his arm around Amity’s shoulders, pulling her closer. She let him, sniffling.

“...you’re not going back there.” Emira decided. “I don’t care how many laws we break. You won’t.”

“I already told them,” Amity murmured, glancing over at her. “I...I said I was a member of the Emperor’s Coven and they, they couldn’t tell me what to do anymore…”

She lifted her unhurt hand to her cloak and withdrew Fang, her palisman, who was curled around her fingers and looked up at the twins.

“Eda showed me a re-recording spell before I left. They know I can use it if, if they try to get me back.”

Neither of the twins wanted to know what that snake had seen.

“Good, because you were never going to go back there to begin with.” Edric said firmly. “Well, no, no, not good, that’s probably not--”

Emira punched his arm and he winced, but obediently went quiet.

“What if she finds out I live here?” Amity asked quietly, curling closer into Ed’s shoulder. “She-she’ll try to do something. What if she cuts you off?”

“We don’t want anything to do with her anymore, I assure you.” Emira growled.

“You-you need the money,” Amity sniffled. “I know you do.”

“We can start making our own--” “Please,” Amity turned her head, giving her sister a scared look. “Please don’t cut off mom. She’ll do something worse.” She said, voice going quieter. “Not yet. You need it now. I’ll be okay.”

Emira wanted to argue, she really did.

But she couldn’t.

Getting jobs in this time of the Boiling Isles, and in this region, was tough. Especially for illusionists. They’d made a bit of money here and there, but a lot of their support came from their mother and father, who grudgingly handed it out so to make their children at least look like they were surviving on their own, for the public.

And it wasn’t like any of them could go to the coven just yet. In a real court battle, they knew their parents would win. They always would.

It was their public image that worried them. And for now, the Blight children had the upper hand.

They’d have to let the spider come to them. As horrifying as the thought of waiting sounded.

“Alright,” Edric related, drawing circles on her arm. “But you aren’t going anywhere near them. Not ever again. Do you understand?”

Amity didn’t respond. She just pulled herself closer to Edric, shuttering with the strain to hold back sobs.

Edric pulled her into a real hug, and Emira wasn’t far behind. They both murmured words of comfort as Amity muffled her cries in Edric’s shoulder, tense with the effort.

If this was what the Blight name meant, they didn’t want it.

[starlightsearches]

Scoundrel

So my inbox decided to delete every request that I had, but lucky for me I actually copied them all down this time! Here’s three requests that I’ve combined into one story, hope you all love it!

Anonymous asked: Lol you reblogged a head cannon from @historymiss about kylo and his “scoundrel” skills and it is just so funny to think about, I’d love to read a fic by you about it. Maybe reader is some type of smuggler being hunted down by the first order and they get away but not before they impress each other with shady skills?

Anonymous asked: Ooh! How about a prompt? “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong” reader to kylo?

Anonymous asked: kylo x reader “is that blood?” “... no?”

Requests are closed ✨

Kylo Ren x Reader (no pronouns)

Warnings: some angst, language, mentions of sex pollen 😏, mild horniness, not a happy ending 🙁

There's no light at all in your hiding place, just the hard press of metal against your spine and the sound of your own breathing. You close your eyes, not that it changes the much, fill your lungs as quietly as you can manage and then hold your breath, listening closely to the sounds of footsteps as they move past you, the modulated mumbles of storm troopers as they head towards the exit of your ship. It's not easy to track their movements just by sound, but you don't think they found your stash, thank gods. If they all get off your fucking ship, you can be on your way in no time.

"Search completed, sir. No sign of the fugitives." You can just barely hear one of the troopers report to some silent supervisor, and your mind catches on the last word. Fugitives? Who were they looking for? Some people would pay a lot of credits for information like that. Despite its chaotic beginnings, today could still be a lucky one. You press your ear closer to the false wall that you hide behind, furrowing your brow in concentration.

"Complete searches of the rest of the ships, they’re here somewhere," there's a second voice now, and as soon as you hear it, ice floods your veins. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Shit.

Your previous confidence in your hiding place leaves immediately, but you can't move, your sense of self-preservation still convinced that he might slip up this time. You're startled from that delusion almost immediately by a loud pounding sound, and then the panel covering your little shelter gives way to blinding light.

You land on your hands and knees with a loud smack, the impact driving spikes of pain through your bones. Someone—a trooper you assume—is on you immediately, yanking your hands behind your back. As soon as your eyes adjust, he's in your line of sight, filling your view with an expansive blackness.

"You again," he's crouched down beside you, the words almost quiet enough to be a whisper, and said with a kind of reverence that might only exist in your imagination. It's been a long time since you last saw Kylo Ren, but it feels like no time at all.

"We can't keep meeting like this, Commander," you reply, coating your words in a healthy level of sarcasm to hide any trembling that could break through, "People might think that you're in love with me."

He doesn't respond, because he never does, but he lifts his hand to your face, rubbing his thumb roughly against your cheek, the seam of his glove scraping against your skin. "Is that blood?" he asks in the same even tone, raising his hand to eye level; you can just barely make out the dark red smear against the black leather.

" ... No?" And then after a beat, "well, it's not mine." Nothing changes in the man before you, but you hear a modulated snicker from behind, and the trooper mutters an apology when Ren shoots him what you have to assume would be a glare if you could see the face behind his mask.

"Search them," Kylo Ren stands to his full height, and you follow close behind, yanked to your feet unceremoniously by the trooper. Some might find this situation humiliating, being cuffed and patted down on your own ship, but you're able to ignore it rather easily, choosing instead to keep your eyes trained on Ren. He returns your stare, his arms crossed tight over his broad chest, fingers flexing rhythmically against the swell of his biceps. No, being handled like this doesn't bother you at all, but you think it might bother him.

Your weapons are removed one by one, and it's a few minutes before the trooper is satisfied, attaching the cuffs to your wrists and giving you one final shove to signal the end of his search. "Should I take them back to the command shuttle?"

Ren stays silent, and your mind kicks in to lightspeed as you try to come up with a plan. If they got you off this ship, your chances of escape would diminish greatly. You'd need to stay aboard, but how? Fighting both of them wouldn't be an option, especially not weaponless. You'll have to make this up as you go and hope things play out in your favor.

"Leave the prisoner with me for interrogation," he says to the trooper, and you stifle a sigh of relief, "I'll need to search the ship again." You try to keep your emotions in check as you watch the trooper walk towards the exit, following him around the corner and out the door with your eyes. It's just you and Ren now. You could make this work.

He breaks the silence as soon as you're alone, plucking the thoughts right out of your head, "you're not going to escape."

"That's funny, I think you said that the last time we ran into each other," you keep your reply light, your tone laden with a healthy dose of mockery so he won't look any deeper. It's not easy to play tricks on a man with powers like his, which is why you've got to keep him distracted, uncomfortable. After all, this is your arena—he'll have to play by your rules.

He takes you by the shoulder, pushing you further into the ship with a shove that's probably meant to be harsh, but there's no heat behind it. "You can't get away from me," he says, more emphatically. His fingers press deeper into your shoulder, a heavy grip to emphasize his point, like that’s all it would take to keep you with him. He should really know better by now. 

You shrug out of his grasp with a little twist, turning to face him in the small corridor, chest to chest, your bound arms sandwiched between you, your own reflection staring back at you through the eyes of his helmet. "I wouldn't count on it, Commander. It's become a hobby of mine to prove you wrong." Your voice is barely a whisper, the heat of your breath creating little clouds of fog on his mask—you're closer than most would dare to be. It's dangerous, the way you get in his space, dangerous how you challenge him, but gods, do you like it. 

He chooses to ignore you again, refusing to take the bait, and instead continues his path down the hall, pulling you towards the cargo hold. It's mostly empty right now, with a few scattered transport bins littering the corners—just empty enough to fool any asshole who might try to poke their nose into your business.

"What are you hauling?" Ren asks, unconvinced by your sparse collection, searching the hold with slow, methodical movements.

"I don't know if you could tell, but I'm actually between jobs at the moment," you kick a crate of broken blasters to sell your lie, but it's clear he's not convinced as he walks the length of the hold, searching for any signs of hidden compartments. You take the chance to look around, as well, seeing if there’s anything that might aid your escape, or at least help you get the damn binders off. It’s a waste of time—there’s nothing in here for you, and even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to get to it without Ren noticing. You look back at him, just for a moment, checking to see if he’s distracted enough to ignore your scheming. By then it’s too late—you hear the sound of the panel lifting first, and it's only a second before he's opening the crate hidden beneath, too quick for the cry that rips from your chest but gets caught on the way out.

"Spice, really?" He reaches a gloved hand towards the container of the innocuous-looking yellow powder and your heart threatens to leap out of your throat, your feet moving towards him of their own accord.

"Don't touch that!" The words finally break free as you throw yourself at him—you don't really have a choice. The impact is hard, hard enough to upset his balance as he stumbles backward, catching you in his grasp, his hands gripping at your shoulders to steady you, too. You’re anchored in his arms, but your breathing is coming hard and fast, the adrenaline making home in your veins even if the danger has passed.

"Afraid I might contaminate your supply?" he whispers the question, the words coming low and mocking through the modulator in his helmet. He thinks it's his turn to get under your skin.

"That's not spice," you say, breathing hard, panic still coursing. "It's a highly potent kind of pollen used to, uh, stimulate arousal. Getting even the smallest amount of it on your skin or in your lungs can create an effect that lasts for weeks." He goes still against you, solid as stone, but you can feel his heartbeat running rampant through his body as he realizes the meaning of your words. Neither of you dare to move, afraid of worsening your already precarious situation, even though you’re well out of reach of the container. The tension has sucked all the air from the room and you stutter, trying to bring it back, "there's a king in the Kazyk sector who pays me good money to haul it for him."

"Is it contraband?" His gaze flits from you back to the powder, and then back again. Even though you can't see them, the pressure of his eyes weighs on you, bringing a heat to your cheeks.

"Depends on who you ask. It is expensive, highly coveted, and notoriously hard to transport. It can cause . . . complications when moved, if you're not careful."

"Complications?" You feel yourself flush, your entire body uncomfortably warm—the temperature control on your ship must be malfunctioning. It's only made worse by your proximity to Ren; you can feel his heat passing through the thick fabric he wears, smothering you.

"Do I need to spell it out for you, Commander?" You had wanted to mock him again, using his title like that, but the whisper that leaves your parted lips is absent of any ridicule, your words so soft and wanton that it sends a shiver up your own spine. You can't help but wonder if he's blushing under the mask—if his thoughts are currently consumed, like yours are, by images of bodies intertwined, heady moans passed between parted lips, his hands—ungloved—exploring every inch of you . . .

Your wrists tug against their restraints, unbidden. It's a good thing that you're still cuffed, because if they weren't, you're not sure what would stop you peeling back those layers he wears, taking off that stupid helmet, finally revealing his face. What would he look like, laid bare before you? What would it feel like to be encircled in his arms with nothing between you but desire?

You ball your fists, fingernails pressing crescents into your palms as you try to remove these thoughts from your mind, forcing yourself out of his grasp with a sharp tug, trying to breathe again. Gods, what is wrong with you? Some of the pollen must have gotten into the air and made its way into your system. You turn back, hoping to confirm your theory, but the little pile of yellow powder sits undisturbed, and the air in the cargo hold is heavy and still.

"Just put the lid back on it. I'm not hauling anything else," you command, and to your surprise, Ren obeys, replacing the cover on the container gently so as to not disturb the powder beneath. He grabs you again, by the arm this time so that he can keep his distance, thank gods, not that it helps you cool off—the heat stays trapped beneath your skin for much longer than you’d care to admit.

He takes you through the rest of the ship, stopping occasionally to open one of the many hidden storage compartments scattered throughout, cracking locks, breaking codes seemingly without even trying. He finds all of them—even the ones you made yourself, ones you were sure nobody would be able to locate without your help. It doesn't matter anyway; you were telling the truth before. You're not hauling anything else.

You lean against the wall, watching as he rips away the edge of another panel in the floor, finding it empty, and you roll your eyes. "Not to be a dick, but can't people like you just feel if I'm harboring fugitives on my ship?" He looks up at you, and you hope he can’t see the way you’re still shaking, hope he can’t feel any of the shame you’re trying so desperately to hide. You need him off your ship—no more complications, no more interference.

"People like me?" he asks, with the slightest hint of laughter, just barely detectable behind the modulation. So he does feel it—your embarrassment, the leftover yearning that you can’t seem to elude.

You roll your eyes again, as if the movement itself could create the nonchalance you’re trying so hard to mimic. You want to be annoyed at him. You want to be unaffected, cool despite what just happened. But it’s not working. "You know what I mean. Couldn't you just sense them?" 

"I know you're not hiding the people we're searching for,” he admits, sliding the floor panel back in place, “and I found all of these- "he gestures vaguely down the hall, the evidence of his handiwork littered along the corridor "-on my own." It’s hard to be sure when you can’t see his face, but you think he might be smug about it all. 

You furrow your brow, thoughts humming, trying to piece together this interaction in a way that makes sense. When that fails, you resort to mockery. 

“. . . So you've been ripping my whole ship apart for what? Just to show off?” Your heart jumps when you see him freeze—the physical changes slight, but not beyond your notice—a slow smile spreading across your face. You’ve got him now.

“You are trying to show off, aren’t you? I have to admit it, I’m impressed,” he stays where he is as you move closer, the visor of his mask trained on you, his muscles taut like he’s ready to run. Who would have thought that, in this scenario, you’d be the dominant one?

“That’s not-” he stutters—you can hear it through the vocoder, and you laugh, just a short, breathy thing. You shouldn’t let yourself get distracted from the goal at hand, but this is much more fun.

“No need to be embarrassed, I tend to have that effect on people. Everybody loves a scoundrel.” You flash him a cheeky smile, and he bristles, folding his arms over his chest again and standing to his full height. You can see the tension in him, practically pulling him apart. He wants to run from you. He wants to stay. 

“Not me,” he says like he wants to believe it, but you can’t miss the way his voice shakes.

“You especially, Commander. The Order and its people are far too proper for someone like you. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”

The silence that follows your words fills the space, leaving little room for air. Maybe you’re hallucinating, but he might inch closer, his fingers twitching, maybe to reach for the latches in his helmet, maybe to bury them in your hair.

The sound of pounding footsteps against the durasteel floor shocks the breath back into your lungs, but even as the trooper dashes into view, Ren doesn’t pull away.

“Sir, there’s a problem,” the trooper huffs, and after a pause, Ren rips his eyes away from you. The trooper hesitates, now, realizing that he’s barged in on what probably looks to him like a private moment. “Uh, there’s a small band of Resistance fighters attacking the troops, we believe they’re here for the fugitives.”

Ren’s immediately on the move, his cloak snapping from the speed of his departure, and you and the trooper glance at each other for a moment before they follow after Ren, and you do too, curious to see the commotion. Despite his limited headstart, Ren seems to have vanished from the corridors of your ship, no trace of him at all, the only sounds echoing through the hallway coming from your own footsteps and the soft jingle of the trooper’s movements. 

The jingling. You’re almost to the door before you realize what that sound means, and you want to smack yourself. You can see the keys now, out of the corner of your eye. Escape had never been closer, and you almost missed it. You choose to ignore the voice in the back of your mind that reminds you about what had caused you to become so distracted. You don’t have time to think about it now. You have a plan.

The trooper startles when you yelp, tripping over nothing before you go sprawling, landing on the floor with a clang. You watch him from the ground as he stares back at you, hesitant, glancing towards the exit before his eyes fall to you again.

“A little help?” You sell it, make it look like a struggle as you try and fail to find your feet, but the trooper still doesn’t move just yet, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Then he takes the bait.

“Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, falling into him as he pulls you to your feet, bracing yourself against the duraplast of his uniform before pulling the keys from his belt with a deft tug and tucking them into your palm.

He doesn’t even notice, running as soon as you're stable, and you follow behind, spinning the key in your palms angling it just right until you hear the snap of release. You catch the cuffs, trying to limit the noise they make as they fall from your sore and stiff wrists. You’re free. 

The trooper exits the ship immediately, off to help his comrades, but Ren is still by the door, deflecting the odd blaster fire. Most of the fighting is far past your ship, on the other side of the yard, but one or two stragglers have decided to aim his way. You watch from around the corner, listen as the sounds of fired shots ends with strangled cries. You move in behind him, getting close, holding the cuffs in place as best you can. 

“Looks like the fight has moved on without you,” you announce your presence, and he turns to look at you, but your eyes are on the saber, burning bright and wicked by his side. “Impressive, but not very useful long range. Blasters are more . . . versatile.”

He gives you a hard look—a searching look—before raising his hand, the fingers flexing in his gloves. Your blaster, the one the trooper pulled off of you earlier, nudges past you on its way to his hand and you jump out of the way, hardly noticing the smooth movement with which he fires, the bodies dropping even from this range as he shoots into the crowd with perfect accuracy.

You’ve never seen him in action like this before. Despite the number of times you had come face to mask with Kylo Ren, he’s never used his powers on you. Something about the realization is frightening.

“We need to leave,” he says, interrupting your thoughts, “back to my shuttle.” He’s looking at you again, head inclined, like it’s a question instead of a demand. And the stupidest part of you wants to go. You force that part of yourself to be quiet. 

He deactivates his saber, drops your blaster and reaches for you, his hand stretched out the same way it had only a few moments ago, but there’s none of the same power behind it; you still feel the pull.

“I know,” he says, and the cuffs fall from your hands because there’s no point in hiding anymore, “but . . .you still could-” he swallows hard enough for you to hear through the modulator, “-we still could . . .”

You walk towards him, your footsteps slow and even and he trembles, his fingers shaking again for an entirely different reason, and they don’t stop, not when they meet your waist, not when your hands grip both sides of his helmet, trying to find a hold against the cold metal.

“I’ll tell you what, Commander,” you say with a whisper, pulling him closer, close enough to rest your forehead against his, “I’ll go with you . . . the next time you catch me.”

It’s a smooth movement, unexpected—first you pull him close, pressing a kiss to the front of his mask, imagining the way his lips must be flushing in response, imagining what it would be like without the ridiculous apparatus in the way. He’s unbalanced, a little surprised, and when you push him back he doesn’t anticipate it, falling, flailing, until he lands with a thud in the soft mud outside of your ship.

“Until next time, Commander!” you call down to him as the hatch lifts, running to the cockpit as fast as your legs will carry you. You’re in a panic as you start up the ship, a shake in your hands that makes it hard to hit the right controls but you don’t stop until you hit lightspeed, trying your hardest to breathe.

You plug in the right coordinates and sit back in the pilot’s chair, brushing your hand across your cheek, picking up the stray moisture that lingers there. You don’t remember when the tears started. You’re not sure how to stop. It seems like today isn’t your lucky day after all.

[bungou-stray-dingus]

hey there, so like this is my first time requesting but your writing is sooo good i can't help myself. if you could, could you make a scenario for dazai and chuuya where his s/o is a non-ability who is very bubbly and innocent but they find out she has a deadly skill that could almost pass as an ability. im sorry if you're busy, you dont have to write this if you dont want to. I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH💕💕

OH IM GONNA WRITE IT BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF THE FUNNIEST BUT ALSO CUTEST THING OH YEAH ITS GETTING WROTE

THANKS BOOBOO ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Dazai

You were like an angel, too pure for this world. Your heart was filled with nothing but good. You donated to charity, helped out in elementary schools during the week and volunteered at children’s hospitals, homeless shelters, and animal shelters during the weekend.

He looked at you as if you were a saint. Whenever you would come home from volunteering he’d bow down at your feet. “My goddess has returned! I’m not worthy!” You’d laugh at his dramatics, grabbing his hand and helping him off the floor.

“Shush.” You’d say before pecking a kiss on his lips.

When you weren’t out helping in the community, you were at home doing what you could to help out without being there. You took up knitting, and Dazai joked about it often. He even went as far as to buy a rocking chair with extra cushion for you to sit in while you would work. “You’re the cutest grandma, you know that?” He’d say, and you’d throw your ball of yarn at him.

“Shut up, and bring me my yarn back.” He’d re-wind the yarn that came undone when you threw it as he walked the ball back to where you sat.

He poked fun at it, but he would often sit on the floor next to your rocking chair, becoming entrances as he watched your hands carefully wrap the yarn around the needle and thread it through the loops. He didn’t understand how you did it, but everything you made came out perfectly, especially the tiny hats for newborn babies with matching booties, and sweaters for dogs and cats in the shelters for when it got cold. You had even made blankets for the people at the homeless shelters, making sure to use the softest yarn that would also be warm.

Sometimes he would come with you to the hospitals or the homeless shelters when he wasn’t working. He never went to the animal shelter though, he didn’t want to be anywhere where dogs were.

When he would go to the hospitals with you he would spend hours making over the babies and how cute they were in the new hats and booties you had made for them.

“Y/N, is it illegal to take a baby from the hospital?” He would ask you on the way back home and you’d just stare at him.

“You’re a cop, I hope you’re joking.”

“Yeah, obviously I’m joking but... so it’s illegal?”

You were used to people not liking your boyfriend. He had helped bring a lot of people to justice in his line of work. You weren’t expecting people to hate you though. Dazai had worked hard to make sure that anyone from opposing agencies or enemies didn’t know that you and him were dating. In the beginning he was always worried and on edge that something bad may happen to you just for being associated with him, but it’s been a year and a half now and nobody had tried to hurt you or kill you.

That’s why you were less than serious when the door got kicked open and three men stormed in, all of them wielding knives. It had to be some kind of weird prank by Dazai, or maybe even some strange act that would set the stage for a new fantasy kink.

“I’m kind of busy right now, can you come back in an hour?” You said calmly, holding up the knitting needles to show them that you were occupied.

“We don’t give a damn. You’re coming with us.” One of the men said, you didn’t know what he looked like, all of them had black masks on.

“Eh, I don’t think I am.” You shrugged, not even looking up from the new sweater you were making.

They were getting angry, the three men stomped over to where you were sitting in the rocking chair. One of them held his knife to your throat, and you finally realized that they weren’t joking, and Dazai wasn’t in on it. “I think you are. That bumbling boyfriend of yours needs to know. Mess with us and we mess with him. Now let’s go.” He pressed the knife deeper and your fight or flight instinct kicked in. You wouldn’t be able to outrun the three of them, so you had to fight.

You gripped the needles tighter, bringing your arm up to jab it into the mans neck. He staggered back and fell to the floor against the wall, trying to pull the needle out.

“What the fuck!?” One of the other men shouted, as the third one started sprinting towards you. You quickly grabbed the knife that the first man had dropped, preparing yourself to stab the man before he could get to you. As soon as he got close enough you forcefully pushed the knife into the mans stomach. He screamed as you twisted it, making him drop to his knees, blood dripping out of his mouth from the damage you had caused.

The final man stood there, assessing the scene, his hands in the air. He had already dropped his knife.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Your voice was low, you were out of breath. You watched him run out your door, then took the time to finally realize what you had done. “Oh my god. Oh... oh my god....” You swallowed back the bile that was rising up your throat. You had killed two people, you had single handedly taken out two grown men. You were a murderer.

With sweaty hands and shaking fingers you dialed Dazai’s number, praying that he’d actually answer.

“Hey swee-“

“You need to come home, I need your help. Please hurry and come home.” Your voice was as shaky as your hands were.

“I’m coming.” His voice wasn’t as cheery as when he first picked up. Obviously his first thought was that you were being attacked or someone was trying to break in. He wasn’t expecting the grisly scene he walked into.

He examined both guys, confirming they were dead, and you couldn’t really understand why he was smiling the entire time he was making his mental report. You couldn’t see anything good about having two dead men in your apartment.

“You did this? Yourself?” He finally looked up to you while poking the knitting needle protruding from the mans neck.

“I was scared! I didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t mean it.” He watched you try to explain yourself. He tried to imagine what was going through the men’s brains when his adorable girlfriend, wearing a skirt with knee high socks and buckle shoes started fighting back, especially with knitting needles. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Why are you laughing!?”

“You’re just so... sexy. You got a little blood on your shirt too.” He got up off the floor and surprised you by sweeping you off your feet as you tried to find the blood stain he was talking about. “Don’t worry, I’ll get that shirt off you soon.”

Chuuya

If he could describe you as a color, it would be yellow. You were bright, fun, happy, you always found a way to put a smile on his face, even when he had the worst day. It was as if a ray of sun took form and for some reason decided that he was the one who deserved it.

Your spontaneous adventures, even if it was just to the park always kept things exciting. He would stand back and watch as you ran over to anyone with a dog, sitting on the ground in front of the furry animal as you looked up and conversed with the owner about the breed and how cute the dog was. He would hear about it for the rest of the day, your hands moving freely through the air as you described the dog, even though he was right there and seen it as well, he would smile and nod. You always found something to be excited about, even on days when it would rain and you both were stuck in the house you would find some way to make him forget about the dreariness of the outside world. Building pillow forts and watching movies as you both attempted to toss popcorn into each others mouths. You had a stash of board games for days like that, and you would let him pick which one he wanted to play. It was the simple things that he enjoyed.

Waking up to the sound of music drifting into the bedroom from the kitchen, your spot on the bed empty. He would groggily walk into the kitchen to find you in front of the stove, the smell of eggs and bacon and pancakes filled the room, but that wasn’t the best part. You would be wearing one of his button up shirts, and only that. Your hips would sway to the rhythm of the song and he’d just stand and watch, unable to fight the smile that would form on his lips and the feeling of pride as he watched you, knowing that you were his.

Other days he’d come home from work while you were straightening up, singing into the broomstick handle as if no one was watching and the living room was your stage. He’d shrug out of his coat, kick his shoes off and slide across the floor while playing the air guitar. You always put a smile on his face, everything you did was his favorite thing. He could never pick one particular thing that you did that made him happy, because honestly you in general made him happy.

Even when you weren’t being goofy, which was rare, but it did happen, he would take the time to sit back and appreciate your beauty. When you would curl up on the couch and drift off to sleep and he’d come home and find you there, he would just marvel at how perfect you were in that innocent state.

That’s why he did everything he could to keep you safe, make sure you were protected everywhere you went. Sure, it was kind of ridiculous to have the black lizards guarding every store you went into, but it was a precaution that needed to be taken. As long as his little drop of sun was safe he could relax.

The two of you were on your way to the restaurant, it was date night. You looked flawless, as usual, and Chuuya couldn’t wait to show you off. His phone started ringing and you picked it up for him so that he could keep one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh as he drove.

“Hi Mori!” You greeted him excitedly, and although he didn’t understand how Chuuya ended up with you, he couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your voice. You seemed to have that effect on anyone you came into contact with. “Will do! Thanks Mori! Buh-bye.” You shut the phone and put it back into the center console. Chuuya looked over to you, his eyes asking the question. “There’s some problem in an alley around the corner. He said it should be quick and you can handle it and get back to our date.”

He groaned but took the sharp turn that would lead to the alley in question. He saw the cloaked figure, like they were waiting for him. “Alright, this’ll be quick. Stay in the car.” He said, kissing your cheek before hopping out of the car.

You stared out the window, watching him stride into the alley. It sent a shot of electric up your legs, seeing him so dominant in situations like this. That was your man, and you couldn’t be prouder. You smiled as you watched him deliver kicks and punches to the figure in the alley, silently rooting for him.

Then you saw more figures coming from nowhere it seemed. There were at least six of them, and you started worrying. He would get hurt if he tried to fight all of them by himself, and you couldn’t have that. It would take too long to call someone and have them come out and help. Your mind raced as you tried to think of something to do, then you remembered the pistol that he had in the glove box. You pulled it out, checking to see if it had ammo, and then hopped out of the car.

“Hey, assholes!” You called, and everyone stopped to look at you. You cocked the gun and aimed it at them. Your hands didn’t shake, and you eyed up your target and pulled the trigger. Headshot.

The figures split up, some advancing towards you while the rest went after Chuuya. You fired the gun quickly, they all dropped like flies. Each one being hit exactly where you aimed. Headshots, chest shots, you even managed to get one in the throat which even you were shocked about. You moved further into the alley, pressing the barrel of the pistol against the head of the one who was about to attack Chuuya while he was fighting the first figure. “Not today, pal.” You said menacingly, pulling the trigger. Blood and bits of flesh and brain tissue splattered onto your face and you dropped the gun to the ground.

Chuuya finished with the final figure and ran over to where you stood. You were frozen, the warmth of the blood against your face made you want to vomit. “Are you okay?” He asked, grabbing your arms and examining them, then moving to the rest of your body to make sure there was no damage done. The amount of blood on you worried him, but once he realized that you were okay, he sighed with relief.

“I need a shower and and and and.... oh my god this is gross.” You couldn’t keep your hands from shaking as you tried to wipe the blood off your face.

“I mean, it’s pretty gross, but god damn, my bad ass little princess. Who would have thought?” His sense of pride sky rocketed.

After you both returned to the penthouse, the date was completely forgotten about at this point, and you both showered together. He rubbed your shoulders as the water fell over both of your bodies. The water was stained with red as you washed the blood from your face and when the shower was over you wrapped the towel around yourself and laid in the bed.

“You took the gun and you were like ‘bang bang bang’ and I was like ‘oh my god!’ And you shot all of them! How did you learn to do that?!” He was pacing the room in his boxers as he described the whole situation again, his feet padded against the floor leaving water footprints on the hard wood.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t want you to get hurt, so I shot them.” You said it nonchalantly, rolling to your side and propping yourself up on your elbow. “Seems like you enjoyed it.” You joked and he whipped around to look at you. The look in his eyes, you knew the look well.

“Oh I enjoyed. I don’t think you know how much I enjoyed it.” His voice was low and husky.

“You can tell me.”

He got into the bed and situated himself over top of you, holding himself up with one arm while the other pulled open the towel that you had wrapped around yourself. “I think I’d rather show you.”

[doubleshotofsomething]

Needy

[This is my submission for @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ ‘s Little Darlin’s Mystery AU challenge. This is a three part soulmate au inspired by the song “Needy” by Ariana Grande, the prologue and epilogue do not count as part one/three.]

The person you’re supposed to be with, isn’t always the one you’re meant to be with.

Summary: You can’t fight fate and expect the battle to be fair.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Wanda x Bucky

Warnings: anst (ANGST), abuse (im so sorry), panic attack mentions, mental disorder references, attempted murder (for like 5 seconds tho), absolutely no fluff (if it looks like fluff then it’s a lie). Please be warned, im bad at warnings but this may be a triggering chapter so proceed with caution.

Prompts: soulmate au. song prompt

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Prologue Part One Part Two

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 Part Three: [ How you even think it got this far?]

"What-- the fuck did you do?"

You blink at him, eyes wide with anticipation as you watch him assess the situation.

The party was still going on somewhere in the tower. It was fun, for the first hour. Then it got boring, so you found Sam, a bottle of whiskey, and ditched to the residential floor.

Sam is next to you, expression matching yours as you both feign innocence – you more than him.

"This is—" Nat pauses, walking further into the room and stopping just a few feet to your right. "—this is actually cute."

"Thank you," the words slip out of your mouth far too quick for your control. Your eyes widen at your admission and you squeak as Sam jabs at your side with his elbow. "ouw!"

You glare at him and he glares back, head nodding to a slowly angering Bucky.

"You—" Bucky grits his teeth, picking up one of the swans you had made with the dress, "—you ruined it."

"We improved it." Sam chimes in, earning a pitiful elbow from you.

The swans were terrible. The internet wasn't as helpful as you had thought it would be and making a swan out of cloth was surprisingly harder than you thought it be too. Especially when you do it after Sam found Thor's secret stash of Asgardian mead.

"Twas actually harder than you'd think," You find yourself adding, "google isn't that user friendly."

"—and the instructions were in hieroglyphs." Sam nods, facing scrunching up in confusion and then he turns to look at you. "You speak hieroglyphs?"

You shake your head at that. "I think it was Korean—"

"—it couldn't have been."

"How would you know? You don't even speak it hieroglyphs—"

"Widow probably speaks it—"

"She could have translationed it for us! Why didn't we think of that!"

Nat blinks at you both, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes land on a flask next to one of the swans. "Oh."

Bucky is shaking, the sound of metal plates shifting echoes in the room as his eyes land on the beads scattered on the table. He looks back at the remnants of the dress in his hands, and he can't find it in himself to calm down. Not when he knows what this dress means, not when you know what it means to him.

"Steve made us do it." You say, smiling innocently at him.

Sam shrugs. "Yeah, definitely."

"It was a pretty shit dress—" Nat adds, nodding her head as she picks up a swan. "This is justice."

"Also, it's bad luck to see the—" You pause, hiccup, and frown as the word escapes you, "—female groom?"

You look to Sam for assistance and pout, he shrugs. "Don't look at me, I wanted to make ducks."

"Yeah, but ducks are difficult to make—" You pause, "—my battery is still at 40%, I know where the suits are."

He grins, wide and devilishly. "I'll look for the other flasks."

 You don't get to make ducks or get the suits. You end up hanging over Bucky's left shoulder as he barrels his way down to the parking lot, stomach churning from your position and completely uncomfortable.

"At least let Steve mandle me, he’s nicer." you try to push yourself up, hands pressing into his back as you try to find some comfort.

Steve chuckles as he watches you pout from in front of him. In his hands are the keys to Sam's car and your purse, along with your coat and gloves.

"Manhandle is the word you're looking for, doll." Steve says, unlocking the car and opening the back door.

Bucky places you inside, surprisingly gentle, as compared to his brutish behaviour, and practically growls at you when you try to wiggle away from him.

"Sit. Still." His words come out through gritted teeth as he clips your seatbelt in place. "Don't even think about it."

You move your hands away from the seat belt clip slowly and feign innocence. "Can I at least say bye to Cap?"

The door slams shut before you even finish your sentence, but you still yell out a goodbye anyway while Bucky yanks open the driver's side door.

He gets in gracefully, throws your stuff onto the passenger seat roughly, and speeds out of the Tower's underground parking before the doors even fully open.

He's quiet the entire drive to your place, tense and stiff in his seat. You're fidgeting in your seat behind him – poking at the back of his neck and trying to get him to open a window— completely unremorseful.

It baffles him, the lengths you're willing to go to get your point across. The damage you're willing to do. It completely blows his mind, the things you're capable of doing – just to get what you want.

He tells you that, as he carries you up to your apartment. Continues to tell you that, as you retch into the toilet and then helps you change into your pyjamas. Doesn't even stutter as he goes on while making you finish up the coffee he made.

You glare at him and his control falters, frowns at that uncanny familiar sensation gripping at the base of his skull.

"—it's not like she was gonna wear it, anyway." You mutter, taking a gulp of the coffee, "you can't marry her now."

"Wha—" his voice cracking cuts him short, a shiver races through him as he tries to blink.

You're sitting on the counter, trapped between both of his arms on either side of you, and he breaks eye contact to look down at the cup in your hand.

"She knows that we're mates," you continue, completely oblivious. "She's great, I like her, honestly. But she can't fight fate, or nature. It would've made cents—scents—" you frown, and glare at the crown of Bucky's head, as if you'll find the word you're looking for there. "—whatever. It doesn't matter. Neither does this wedding, because— come on, let's be honest. No one wants to be with our kind, it’s too risky. We are the defamation of— deformation— what?"

He should find this cute. He usually does. But he can't, not now, not when he can feel the sweat pooling at the back of his shirt. Not when that prickling feeling is clawing up his spin, that trickle of fear – foreign and yet familiar –  why was it so familiar?

"Stop—" he rasps, pushing himself away from you, putting as much distance between the both of you as possible.

You frown, setting the cup down and slide of the counter. "Buck—" your knees knock when you land on your feet, and you have to grab onto the counter to keep you from falling. "—Bucky?"

"Stop." His hands are in his hair, gripping furiously as he shut his eyes. "No."

He has done this before, deflecting from the topic at hand, changing it in a way that made you not want to touch it.

Coffee mugs crushed in his hands. I'll talk to her, don't worry about it.

Fists slammed into dinner tables. For fuck's sakes, I said I'll do it, it's been a really stressful weak as it is.

Doors banged off their hinges. Wanda is not some mate-stealing monster, damnit! I won't have you shit-talking her like this.

Broken plates scattered on the floor, while on their way to the kitchen. Are you fu— doll, please, I didn't come here to fight. Okay? Let's just... not, right now.

You had listened, each time, because he was there with you and not with her. You let him deflect every time, because he needed that from you, and you could never deny him – not that you'd try. You had listened and, in turn, the wedding wasn't called off.

You were done listening.

"You can't walk away every time I bring this up, Buck—" you follow him into the living room, "—I'm not some groupie you can't shake. I'm your soulmate, and you're gonna have to face that fact sooner, rather than later."

"Just—" he breathes out, "—stop talking, for once."

"You can't seriously be mad at me, right now—"

You need to stop.

"I'm not wrong for wanting us to be together, and you know that." You point out, frowning as the chair he’s leaning against begins to crack under his grip. "—okay, fine. We can change the topic, if it's that upsetting!"

He really needs you to stop.

There's a tug at your chest, faint but strong enough to make you look down in confusion, before you realise it's the matebond.

Except, the pull feels different this time. It's an uncomfortable sting, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, and you frown. It has never felt like this, not even when you had first found Bucky, never this... this... alarming?

You look up at your mate and you think that's why. You think it's because he's distressed, that this is serious, that it's another one of his attacks.

So, you go to him, because you need to. Because the feeling won't relent. Because it's in your nature to be what he needs you to be.

The stinging seems to worsen the closer you get, furious as it spikes an increase in your heart rate, and you hate yourself for a second – knowing that you've caused this. This is happening because you went on a rampage and ruined Wanda's wedding dress.

She liked that dress. You know that because he told you. Because it was bought on the same day that you had met Bucky. Because he couldn't stomach the thought of her never being able to wear it for their wedding, once it's called off...

And you decided to turn into swans.

His hand is on you, around your throat, backing you into a wall as it squeezes.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to register, to realise what is happening. And, for some reason, all you can think about was how it was the first time he used his hand –  his actual hand – to touch you.

And, suddenly, you prefer the left hand.

--

It's too late.

By the time he comes to, you're already on the floor.

You're unconscious, your cheeks are wet and your neck is bruising.

He's standing over you, confused. He calls your name, shakes you, but you don't wake.

There's a pulse, he checked, and you're breathing, he double-checked.

He can still feel you, so he tells himself that that's a good sign as he carries you to bed. He sets a bottle of water on your nightstand, charges your phone for you, and scribbles down a note.

Call me when you wake up.

He can't seem to start the car, or remember why you ended up on the floor, so he calls Steve.

He doesn't tell him what happened over the phone, but he does when he arrives. He tells him what he can remember, about the yelling and then putting you to bed and that blank gap between the two.

Shit, Buck. Steve swears, so he knows it's bad.

You're going to hate him in the morning, he knows this, but why isn't he feeling the bond pull him to you. To fix this.

That's what it usually does, doesn't it?

That's why he always came back after every fight, isn't it?

There would be the fighting and arguing and the breaking of things. You would kick him out and ignore him. He would feel bad and make up for it, he had to – he always had to. He could never fight that feeling.

Why wasn't it there, now?

--

Wanda was there when you woke.

Bruce was there, too. Checking you, helping you, telling you what to do and what not to do.

You're all quiet, except for Bruce as he speaks only when necessary. She's in the background, leaning against your dresser, while you try to go about your morning routine in the afternoon.

Bruce called your work and put in a sick leave for you, had Dr Cho sign a sick note for you. He even scheduled an appointment with Cho for you, a proper scan once you can get out of bed.

You blame the mead, how could you not? It had to be it, because there is no way, in heaven or hell, that Bucky could...

Bruce only stays for as long as he needs too. He's a match, the thread match, and he can't stay away from Nat for too long. So, he leaves… she doesn't.

It's awkward, as expected, and ugly and anxiety inducing.

You ruined her wedding dress, cut it into pieces and turned it into a plaything for you and Sam. You remember that part because you did it while you weren't completely shitfaced.

She's marrying the man that you want, the man that's supposed to be yours, and it would be easy to get you out of the picture – get rid of you so you wouldn't put Bucky through this anymore. But she doesn't, because she understands.

She understands because you don't know.

You don't know what they did to him, what they had to do to get him to be the soldier they wanted. You don't know what he went through, what they put him through when he resisted.

And he could never tell you that. Because it's not your fault that they used your bond to turn him into a monster. It's not your fault that they turned the only good thing he had, the one thing that was his, into a weapon. He couldn't tell you that...

"He's in Wakanda." Wanda says softly, eyes locking on yours as you both watch each other from opposite ends of the room. "Bucky."

You want to ask why, she can tell, so she explains.

"When he was put under, again, we thought—" she swallows, rubbing circles in her chest to ease the knot, "—we thought that he could be..."

You give a slight nod of understanding, adjusting the continental pillow behind you back.

You knew what Hydra had done to him, what they had turned him into. Anyone who was anyone knew.

"So," she sighs, "when he came back to the team, we all thought he was okay. I thought he was okay, I mean—I checked to make sure he was okay... But... we know, now that he wasn't. I didn't think it could happen, especially not now. I mean—"

She pauses and looks at you. You can see the struggle on her face, the hesitance to continue, and you frown.

Wanda found out about you on the same day that Bucky did. He told her immediately, over the phone, didn't even wait until she got back to the compound.

He said it didn't change anything, that your presence didn't change anything, but she knew.  She knew it did.

He couldn't balance between her and a mate, she didn't want him to. So, he decided to introduce you to each other.

She liked you instantly, how could she not? You were exactly what she expected Bucky's mate to be, and more. But he didn't care.

She wanted to call things off, but he wouldn't listen to reason. She wanted him to understand, to know that she wouldn't hate him if he didn't choose her. Because she knew better; fate had chosen, and it wasn't her.

It's my choice, he persisted. And I love you. She'll just have to understand, because I'm not leaving you.

You were fate's choice for him.

But he had had enough of people choosing for him; the army, hydra, the UN, and now, you?

No one knows what's best for me, except for me. We're getting married and that's final.

He wouldn't back down and she couldn't fight him. She loved him more than she could ever understand, who was she to choose for him?

"Hydra did things, things that shouldn't be possible," she continues, her voice steadier than she expected. "Once they had their hands on the tesseract, they did things to him that — I don't think we can fix…"

You can feel him, sort of... it's barely there, the bond, but you can still feel him.

She folds her arms across her chest. "Whatever you said last night, whatever it is you did— it triggered him back."

You blink. Once. Twice. Then, all at once, it sinks in and your stomach tightens.

"What?" Is your reaction, whispered and you can barely register the voice as yours.

"They're gonna try and reverse it, like before—" Wanda rushes the words out, but it's too late. Her previous words are already sitting on your chest and you're finding it hard to breathe. "—they've done it once; they can do it again—"

The realisation hits you, hard, and you have to force yourself to breathe.

Because now you understand why, you know why the link had felt that way – why the ache intensified as you got closer to him.

"I threw the bond in his face," your voice cracks and your throat aches as you speak. "I told him that— oh."

It was warning you, the bond, and you ignored it. It was feeling threatened, and you ignored it.

How could you be so selfish?

Wanda is sitting in front of you before you can even blink, trying to calm you down, begging you to calm down, to breathe...

Damn it, why couldn't you breathe?

"I can never have him, can I?" You're gasping, practically wheezing, and your nails dig into Wanda's arm.

The pain is there, she feels it, but she's too busy worrying about your escalating heart rate to focus on it. "Y/N, please, breathe—"

You're shaking your head, frantic and harder than your headache can handle. "What did I do— what did I do— what did I do—"

"Hey—hey— hey, look at me!"

"I ignored it—" your chest hurts and you don't understand why, "—it was, it was here—" you let go of her arm to pat your chest, "—right here, it was here. The bond. I could feel it. And he was begging me to stop and trying to leave, but I didn't listen— Wanda, I didn't listen—"

Wanda doesn't know what to do, not even Bucky had gotten this bad before. This was new territory for her.

You were too far gone to listen to anything she was saying, and she was too busy panicking to know what to do. How does she fix this?

"I need you to calm down, please— oh my god!"

"Why wouldn't I listen? I just wanted him to— you know? I just wanted him to choose me—"

"Y/N! Y/N! Please, I need you to—"

"Because I didn't— I just wanted to have him. And now— I broke it. It's broken. I broke it, Wanda. I broke it—how could I— he needed me to just— and I broke it—"

"Sam— help me! I don't know what's happening— she won't stop— "

 --

It was unchartered territory.

Reversing the trigger through the matebond wasn't possible, especially when the stones had been returned to their timelines.

The only option they had, that Shuri could provide, was completely erasing every single one of his memories. Every, last, one.

Clean slate. No Wanda, or Steve, or you.

You would still remember though, everyone will. So, there really wasn't a point.

You told Wanda – days later, when you were well enough to leave for your appointment with Dr Cho and found her there –  it wouldn't be necessary.

"He doesn't have to go under," you said, fidgeting with hem of the hospital. "I'll stop... I'll stop everything."

She shook her head, ready to protest. "You don't have to do any of that, I'm not going to marr—"

"Please do." You stopped her, shaking your head. You'd done enough damage as it is. "He chose you. He's fought me at every turn because he wants you. I'm not—"

Why was it so easy to say all this?

"I'll still be there, when he needs me— for whatever it is, but only for that. He's yours," he doesn't want me anyway, "We're mates, not matches, we don't have to be together for this to work—"

"You don't know what you're saying—"

"The world has taken enough from you— I've taken enough from you, Wanda. Let me give you this, at least."

You could live without him. You've done it before.

How hard could it be?

Tagging: @sourpatchkidsandacokecan​ , @decadentsoulbiscuitgoth​ [sorry i took so long, won’t happen again :) xx]

[whumphoarder]

Morgan Stark, M.D.

Summary: While playing doctor at the lake house, the five-year-old decides to break out the big bandaids for Peter’s injuries.

Word count: 1,180

Genre: fluff, humor

Link to read on Ao3

A/N: Thanks to @awesomesockes for beta-reading and ideas :D

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Morgan informs, pressing the bell of her pink plastic stethoscope to the middle of Peter’s chest.

“Oh yeah?” Peter grins at the five-year-old, who is currently wearing one of Tony’s white button-downs as a lab coat. “What’s it sound like, doc?”

“Like”—Morgan rapidly taps her hand over his heart, adding a sound effect between each pat for emphasis—“badumbadumbadumbadumbadum!”

Peter laughs lightly. “That’s pretty fast. Might have a problem there.”

“Nope,” Morgan says knowingly. “It’s perfect.” She pulls the stethoscope out from her ears and shoves it back into the purple Doc McStuffins bag, exchanging it for a thermometer. “Here,” she says, thrusting it at Peter’s closed mouth, causing him to flinch backwards in surprise. “We gotta take your temperature now.”

Peter takes the device from her and holds it as close to his lips as he can without actually touching them. Prior to Tony and Pepper leaving for their date night earlier that evening, both had warned him of their daughter’s newfound medical obsession. Apparently, she’s been giving out check-ups to every toy, doll, and family member who’s crossed her path the past week.

(Gerald the alpaca was less than pleased about this.)

After about three seconds, Morgan pulls it away again and glances at the number display before letting out a little shriek. “You got a fever!” she cries.

“Oh no!” Peter gasps, pressing the back of his hand to his own forehead in a dramatic swoon. “How high is it?”

She shakes her head back and forth solemnly and lets out a sigh. “Sixty-two percent.”

Peter has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep his face straight. “Sixty-two percent?” he clarifies, raising an eyebrow. “Pretty sure if it hits seventy, I’m toast.”

“Not if I give you the medicine!” she exclaims. “It’s, um…” She whips a plastic syringe out of her kit. “It’s five hundred shots!”

Peter sticks his lip out in a pout. “Aw man, but I don’t like shots...”

“That’s silly,” she says simply, and immediately jabs the bony part of his elbow with the point of her plastic needle, eliciting a yelp that was only partly faked. “You need to get better or you’ll die.”

“Fair enough,” Peter allows, grimacing. “So… only four hundred and ninety-nine more to go?”

Giggling, Morgan proceeds to poke him with the syringe a few dozen more times in quick succession until she declares him cured.

“Now you need a bandaid,” she says, grabbing the box of Doc McStuffins sticker ‘bandages’ from her kit. She opens it and then frowns. “Aw, they’re all gone.”

Peter laughs a bit, recalling the picture Tony texted him yesterday of a rather grumpy-looking Happy covered in colorful stickers. “Guess I’ll just bleed out then.”

“No you won’t! I know where Mommy keeps more!” she exclaims, jumping up.

Peter frowns. “Well, you probably shouldn’t use the real ones…” he begins, starting to get up from Morgan’s pink bean bag chair, but she pushes him back down quickly.

“No no you can’t move!” she insists. “You’re really sick.”

At the little girl’s stern look, Peter settles back down into the bean bag. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay here. But don’t use too many, okay? They’re supposed to be for real owies.”

“Okay,” she agrees, scurrying off down the hall.

While he waits, Peter checks his phone. There’s a Baby Yoda meme from Ned, along with a two-paragraph rant from MJ about pigeons being soulless creatures that he’s just started to skim when Morgan bounds back into the room.

“I got them!” she cries happily. “I got the big bandaids.”

Peter glances up to see the five-year-old run over and dump an armful of colorful square-shaped items out onto the floor in front of him. His eyes widen as realization dawns.

“Wait, uh, Morgan? I don’t think those are—” he stammers. “I mean, uh… where did you find those?”

Morgan is already tearing open one of the pastel floral wrappers. “In Mommy’s bathroom drawer,” she reports as she unfolds the white pad inside.

Peter feels his cheeks flush. “Right, but, uh, I don’t think they’re really, um…”

As he speaks, Morgan peels off the final strip of paper over the adhesive and sticks it to his elbow. “They’re for big owies.”

“No, Morgan, listen,” Peter protests, starting to take it back off. “These aren’t—”

“Hey!” She swats his hand away. “You need to keep that on! Or it’s gonna bleed!” she emphasizes.

Covering his face with his hands, Peter blows out a deep exhale. “Morgan…”

“Oh no!” she gasps, causing Peter to lower his hands to look up at her. “You got another owie!” From the pile of pads on the ground, she produces another and tears the wrapper off.

Peter holds up a hand. “Wait, wait, we can’t use all your mom’s…” he trails off when Morgan tilts her head to the side questioningly, “uh, supplies.”

“She’s got more,” Morgan says with a shrug, peeling off the paper. “There’s lots in the bathroom. And more in her purse.” Adhering the pad to his opposite arm, she explains, “You got another owie there.”

Peter glances down at the new pad-bandage the little girl is wrapping around his elbow. “Oh. Bummer,” he sighs. “Guess I should be more careful.”

“Don’t worry,” she assures him, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to the top of the pad. “I’m gonna make you all better.”

X

Ten minutes later, Peter has just crunched his way through at least ten tablets of SweetTart “medicine” and is sipping room temperature water from one of Morgan’s tiny plastic tea set cups when the bedroom door creaks open to reveal a surprised-looking Tony standing in the entryway.

Peter’s eyes widen in horror. “Mr. Stark! I can explain!” he blurts.

Tony blinks at him. “Please don’t.”

“Hi Daddy,” Morgan says, waving at him.

Tony inclines his head in the direction of his giggling daughter. “Morgan,” he greets. Then shifting his gaze to the red-faced teenager—on which every exposed area of skin is covered by sanitary napkins—he gives him a solemn nod. “Pad-Man. You two having fun?”

“Uh huh!” Morgan says brightly. Gesturing to Peter, she says, “We’re playing hospital. He’s the sick guy, but he’s all better now.”

“Oh yeah?” Tony chuckles and Peter's face flushes. “What was the diagnosis, doc?”

“He had...”—her expression screws up in thought—“broken everything.”

Tony winces. “Ooh. That’s rough.” He steps over and gestures to the pad stuck across Peter’s forehead. “And these are…?”

“Big bandaids!” Morgan says cheerfully.

“Ah. Got it.” Tony nods, the corners of his mouth turning up into a grin. “For all the blood. Of course.”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Peter mutters, “Just kill me now.”

“But you just got better,” Morgan complains.

Tony smirks. “You know, Pete, if you ask Pepper really nicely, she might share her chocolate stash with you. That always makes her feel better.”

Morgan lets out an excited whoop at the prospect of candy, while Peter just covers his face and groans.

X

Link to all my fics

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[blankdblank]

Next Caller Pt 23

Looking up Thorin said to Dwalin, who was hanging out to keep from bursting in on Bilbo and Dis’ time to calm Mal to being around them. “Frerin just said he’s bringing Jaqi here. And she’s got some new wheels..”

Dwalin, “She bought a car? Thought she didn’t want to spend that much after the house?”

Thorin shrugged and Fili chuckled out, “I bet it’s adorably small.”

Kili, “Can’t be worse then Mal’s scooter. Can’t wait till we can get her an actual car.”

Dwalin said with a pointed gaze, “You’re not there yet in your courtship.” Making the pair huff.

Fili crosses his arms slumping more into his chair, “You’d say the same if you’d seen it. Can’t even take it on bridges or in tunnels.”

Dwalin, “She doesn’t need to get far to have to cross a bridge or tunnel.”

Kili, “Still not fair. And only one of us can ride with her but it slows it down.”

Thorin rolled his eyes and said, “I’ll wait in the garage.” Climbing to his feet luring the smirking trio behind him.

*

Behind Frerin’s sports car after securing your helmet over your brushed back bangs you turned over the engine and instantly heard the extra tiny bit of power in the scooter pulling away from the counter luring waves from the grateful team of guys who were able to assist someone on this blustery day. The mighty engine in the scooter cutting off any resistance you had assumed you might have due to any winds, powering through it to ensure the safety of its passenger. Behind him you rode back down the main street then turned onto the on-ramp and from there split off to the segregated lanes for bikes behind a trio of motorcycles. Keeping him in sight with his bumper lead in front of you allowing you to catch sight of his blinkers so you could know which exit to take.

And while the motorcycles slowed to yield for those taking the exit before they could continue on to the tunnel past the open split in the barrier you eased into the exiting lane and took the slope on the off ramp with ease behind Frerin. That loop took you to the road under the bridge you were on to turn right again and head on to another stretch of highway feeding across a bridge you followed for a few miles before it bled into another more decorative bridge sloping down to the back street paths he chose. At the final light he rolled down his window saying, “I take the red entrance and you take the yellow. 4th level is our floor they have a section for bikes.”

You nodded and he smirked looking forward again he led you ahead and at the fourth building on the left he turned for the red entrance while you eased over for the turning lane for the yellow a bit further down on the corner.

After two trucks drove past you took your turn and pulled through the open entrance of the garage and followed the wide path circling each floor of parking around the parked cars and openings to each bike section until you reached the fourth floor.

Along the wall the group waited chatting with constant brushes of their hair from their faces and smirks spread seeing Frerin pulling up to his assigned spot beside the second guest spot they had. Certain to have seen you already when Frerin got out of his car making Thorin ask, “You remembered to hit the gate behind you too, right?”

Walking over Frerin chuckled saying, “Didn’t have to.”

The sound of a telling engine had Thorin looking at his brother, “You did not take her motorcycle shopping!”

Frerin chuckled saying, “No, I didn’t. Just wait.”

Frerin caught your rise into their view in the bike path and said, “Got to be a scooter then. You got her a scooter?”

Frerin chuckled, “Nope. She bought it. Paid in full.” Thorin rubbed his face and Frerin poked him in the stomach, “She’s adorable on it and really excited about it.”

Dwalin chuckled patting Thorin’s back, “Least she’s got wheels now. That much closer to a car.”

Thorin lowered his hands and said, “A car can’t get swept or blown under anything. A car can keep you safe from the rain!”

Frerin poked him again, “We’re being supportive.” Turning with the boys to join them over to the bike section you pulled into, the elder pair exhaled and joined forcing grinning at least that you were here and they could feed you.

Fili’s hand dropped from his hair, “Oh that is cool!” He exclaimed as you pressed the pedal for the kick stands to lower so you could ease off safely and it wouldn’t be blown over while you were gone.

Kili, “If Mal had one like that we wouldn’t mind! That the new cobra?” He asked moving closer and said pointing at the decal, “These aren’t even widely on the market yet!!”

Frerin chuckled saying, “Salesman recognized me, helped to get my big sister a good scooter safe for the roads. It’s more powerful than the white one she tested, so no worries there this one can break 75 on the roads.” The label for you didn’t go unnoticed by Thorin, only he couldn’t do much past grumble as his eyes remained fixed on you.

Leaving your helmet on the dip in front of the seat you pocketed the key for it and bounced over excitedly grinning making Thorin’s grin bubble out seeing how truly excited you were. “So? Mr Mug Dealer? Whatcha think? I like it. Nice for what I need. Plus I haven’t had one since I was on base in training. Course that was the four, nothing as smooth as this, sometimes used to cut out mid ride. And you’d have to kick start it again.”

Dwalin chuckled out while the boys kept inspecting it, “They stopped making the four back in the First Age.”

You nodded, “Yup, they were vintage back when I had one, now they’re impossible to find. But we were drowning in them back then. Easy to gift out to each of us.”

Dwalin chuckled, “No doubt.”

Even with his scruples and objections against it you truly were adorable on it. And it was far safer to drive than what Mal had. “Just try not to test the winds with it.”

“No I know, it’s a fair weather transport, so other days back to hoofing it. But once these winds pass by road is mine.” Making him chuckle and grin down at you in your grin up at him.

Frerin parted your back, “For now, come on up, let’s get you some lunch.”

.

Lunch was called in and to the sound of the boys picking a film or show to watch Frerin showed you through the apartment. The two story modern marvel with mainly bright splashed of color on what used to be a mainly white background now with lively sea foam walls for the kitchen and living room. Frerin smirked along with Dwalin at your reaction while Thorin seemed to catch on that you weren’t fully comfortable with the modern style. Quickly your true impressions are masked and pleasantly you complimented things you passed and basic layouts and flows while the men distracted you with stories on items scattered about as well as more pictures.

Thorin however disappeared while Frerin showed you his room that was kept to its original color. “And thankfully Thorin didn’t go crazy and choose a color for my room as well. Can’t sleep with too much color around me unless it works flawlessly.” You nodded and he said in your glance up at him, “But don’t worry, I’ve seen your sketches for your rooms and I would love to stay in one of your guest rooms when they’re completed. Most likely the blue and orange one. It’s got a different vibe than the others. I like it the most.” The compliment made you smirk to yourself.

Fili and Kili showed up while you giggled passing Thorin’s room, which sounded like he was stashing things in his drawers to show an office on the end of the floor, “Not much room for a library but this will do for now.”

You looked at him, “For now?”

Frerin nodded, “Thinking about a house maybe. Who knows, I might find a little cave to call my own, the lads keep talking about trying to bunk on with Mal.”

“Not much room there,” you said making him chuckle.

Fili and Kili both said, “We can shrink down our things.”

Dwalin nodded with Frerin sarcastically saying, “Sure you can.”

Thorin opened his door looking to you all exiting the office and said after clearing his throat, “All clear. Had to, find my blanket. And Roac left a mess.”

The Raven in question began to cry out, “I make no mess in your dresser or floor Thorin! And my pictures are all displayed with pride not hidden with coatings for your appendages!”

In a giggle you asked at his twitch of his brow looking you over, “Blame the Raven? Bad move.” He stepped back and you said, “Let’s see what you flinch at me approaching, Mug Dealer.” Making the others smirk in his deep breath while you passed to keep from sweeping over the room again.

Navy blue walls with cubbies and shelves coated with books and trinkets sat around a large Elven sword he said, “From my service.”

“Orcrist.”

He looked you over, “Of course you can read the runes.”

After a glance up at his you pointed to the hilt of the blade, “That’s my Gramps’ rune. On my Naneth’s Vanyar side. One of the best smiths they have.”

In an almost dreamy murmur he asked, “You know this one particularly?”

You nodded replying, “There’s a rune for Pear etched in the end of the hilt. I put it there. He always had me help out with etchings and leave my mark on each blade I touched. How’d you get it?”

“Found a crashed Elf ship. This was wedged behind a bookshelf. My superiors let me keep it.”

You giggled and said, “He always loved to hide. Almost didn’t make the shipment out. Kept rolling off the mounts and tables. Gramps’ll be glad to hear it wasn’t bartered off and had a good home. All but ten came home again after the wars.”

Dwalin pulled out his phone showing you a picture he found of a set of daggers, “Are these his as well?”

Looking at the image you said, “No, that would be by my Naneth’s cousin’s grandson. That’s a Noldor dagger set.”

Fili asked, “Are they rare?”

“Wartime Noldor daggers yes, they couldn’t make enough in time, and most would end up losing theirs. Although depending on the smith these now could fetch quite a staggering amount. I would have to see the hilt to see who touched them. Celebrimbor’s are rarer than Curufin’s, and Feanor’s are just everywhere but if they have ruby accents you could buy an island with what others are willing to fetch them.”

Dwalin said, “There’s no rubies, there is something that looks-,”

He switched pictures and showed you the rune on it making you giggle, “That’s Cleo’s rune, Celebrimbor’s daughter. Only worked on three pairs, he found the others. Impossibly rare. Why looking for a buyer?”

He shook his head, “No, merely curious. Is Cleo quite the Smith?”

“She’s better now than she was then. She was still a teen then.”

Frerin, “Is it some tradition to have daughters etch blades for battles?”

“Depends on how distracting the daughter could be.” Making them chuckle again.

The supply of books by his bead heavily centered around his tea love with one odd standout on Vanyar culture and traditions his eyes trailed to once you had already passed it. Up in his window ledge you turned to spot his budding sprouts in adorable little pots fashioned together like egg cartons. The whole feel of the room was different than the rest of their apartment, bulky hand carved bed and mattress set with plushy deep armchairs around a warped piece of a stump sanded, polished and waxed to be a table between them. Homey and welcoming comforting for guests and the resident of said space, with the only touches of modern being the hanging cube shelves hung in zigzags down the whole wall.

The doorbell saved him from trying to distract you from asking about the Expo pamphlet propped up in the one on the end. One that had ‘gotten misplaced’ but held onto as a memento for your trip, as if he didn’t already have the developed pictures you had taken of each other and yourselves together underneath the pamphlet to be constructed into a photo collage when he found or made the right display for it to add to his other pictures. The first of many he hoped with next year possibly trying for a repeat with you even if he had to buy three tickets in case Dwalin demanded to go again to make up for all he missed.

Food blended into giggle and laugh filled stories and lingered until Frerin’s phone rang and the boys got roped into planning for their flight the following night for the day of press away they hoped wouldn’t blend into two so they could be back to rest amply before the festival. Stealing a poke in Thorin’s side while he cleaned up he chuckled shifting to look you over as you peered up at him, “Guess I better go. Leave you to your relaxing, or sleep.”

“Well I can walk you down at least.”

Dwalin, already by the door flashed you a grin passing you your bag left there you shouldered saying, “I doubt Bilbo and my Sunflower are still off racing about Mal.”

Through the door he opened you passed to their lift down the hall asking, “So does Frodo get his own art room?”

The pair looked at you when the doors closed and Dwalin said, “He has a playroom. When he’s older we could set up an art station. Why?” A curious grin tugged across his lips.

Pulling out your phone you brought up a picture with the foam fold together mats over a taped down tarp for half a room with hung rolls of parchment secured by shelving units holding art supplies. The cubbies for the paper set up with clips and a sliding safe slicer to separate the paintings that could be hung to dry or display on tall zigzagging strings on a bare patch beside a chalkboard painted section of wall coated in scribbles and tries for possible abstract masterpieces. “Cirdan helped me set this up for my sisters. Just an idea if you wanted one. There’s a station for each of them, ample supplies kept in order and they can ‘paint the walls’ to their liking in their art room. Sculpting and such is on the other side of the room.”

You pocketed your phone again eyeing his awed grin in his saying, “That is an incredible idea. I might just borrow an idea or two, we do have a good sized room off Frodo’s, and it could be half Bilbo’s sketch room too. I could have a corner for my clay. Thank you.”

With a shrug you said missing Thorin’s seeping dopey grin to your side deepening Dwalin’s, “Well you’re all saying I should share my ideas.”

He nodded in Thorin’s head turning rumble of, “As you should. We value your input and ideas.”

Down you went and after hugging his cousin in a trade of jesting grumbles for him to make a move Thorin followed you to the bike section where he watched you brush back your bangs from your face to add your helmet. “Please drive safe.”

Locking your eyes on him you sighed and said, “I will. You try not to drive Roac crazy with your accusations.” Making the grump chuckle to himself and watch as you swung your leg over the dip in front of the seat to sit down. Turning the key left just a press of the ignition switch on the handlebar, “See you tomorrow, Mug Dealer.”

“See you tomorrow.” He rumbled back forcing his grin to hold watching you release the kickstands and turn the front wheel to start off again heading back down in the garage after Dwalin flashing only another wave his way he glumly returned, waiting until he couldn’t hear your scooter anymore to head back inside. Locked between the truth of how you did seem to enjoy the dangerously adorable vehicle that you had chosen and his fears of what could happen to you even in this very bike conscious city with ample securities set for bikers to claim for protection. All the same straight to his room he went to set out the picture frames of you he had hidden apologizing to Roac once again before claiming the pictures from your trip to lay down with recalling before bed how it felt to sleep with you behind him and for a brief snippet across his chest.

 *

Nearly died down completely the winds now faintly floated by once you were parked at the store. You only had a couple days and parking in a mini spot in the specified section for bikes you palmed the key and left your bike still carrying your helmet you strapped to the strap of your bag on the stroll in. Endlessly the store stretched and after a momentary glance around you were off towards the cosmetics section. Basic makeup you had an ample supply of, but for the festival you needed something different. Through the aisles you walked eyeing the various things, grabbing a black glittery lipstick in the nearly empty display. Turning around you looked over what scarce supplies they had and walked around to the next aisle where you found the glittery face make up you wanted but not in the right shade. A sighing head drop backwards had your gaze falling on the box up on the shelf with the other so called ‘already full’ merchandise making you glance around and spot the curious lanky teen who came over to see if you needed help.

“Hi,” you said.

With a grin he replied brushing his hair from his face, “Need help reaching something?”

You nodded and pointed, “You have more golden glitter paint up there, could I have one, please?”

He nodded and you stepped aside allowing the seven foot easy going teen to simply reach up and shuffle the small boxes to bring down the gold one he held open letting you pick the one you wanted. “Thank you,” you said then turned to find a new set of brushes you didn’t need but now had an excuse to buy.

“No problem,” he said stocking the rest before turning to grin at the next Hobbit sized customer in search of some long arms.

Teal brush set in hand you made your way to the paint section. Peering up at the brushes again you claimed another set of thin flat brushes along with some pen like brushes with fine bristles. From the display of premade paint you claimed a small peach and shimmering silver set before heading to the registers. Somehow in what had felt to be an empty store you found the other shoppers all in line. Aimlessly looking around taking in tiny details until it was your turn to hoist your things up onto the belt then wait by the bags to be able to hand over the bills you pulled out. Two bags you made sure to ensure wouldn’t split later and you pocketed your change making your way back to your scooter.

Adding the makeup and brushed to your satchel you set the paint on the dip between your legs and for the ride home kept them from sliding around on you. The sudden scooter had your neighbors turning and grins spread among those on watch who sent out word the new addition to their mini town had transport now that rippled from house to house. Into your driveway you pulled and slowed allowing your driveway door to rise after a press of the key fob for it you had clipped to the rear view mirror mount at the store. Straight in a loop you slowly rode the scooter inside to park off to one side in your ridiculously large double car garage. Across the street while you parked and shut the scooter off the neighbor aiding Thorin approached with a grin growing as you exited the garage smiling at him in return curious of why he was coming over.

“Hello,”

“Hello,” you said then bounced on your toes making him chuckle as you said, “I bought a scooter.”

“Yes, it is quite stunning, glad to see you have some form of transport now. Nice and quiet too compared to some other models.” You nodded eagerly and he pointed to your door, “Thought I’d tell you, you had a delivery earlier.”

Turning your head your grin split wider in saying, “Ooh, my shelves!” Turning back you said, “Thank you.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem. And congratulations.” Parting waves came with your trot around the fence to unlock the door hanging up your satchel, bringing out the paint brushes you carried with the paint and the first of the two boxes larger than you that you carried into the garage soon to be joined by its twin. Leaving the door open those milling by could see your new wheels and wave as you assembled the shelf sets quite easily just leaving the backings to add.

Opening the paint cans however on the four across four high shelving set you started in the first row working down. The top and bottom of each cube with the strip between shelves was painted peach all the way down. In the next row the left and right sides were done in each with the strips between peach as well. For the third you were back to top and bottoms, finishing off the last with the sides again. A pattern you mirrored in the second before turning to the backings. Across the simple white backing you used the finer brushed to paint freehand vines spreading out with flowering bundles of stars.

With that same brush while the paint dried you carried the silver paint and brush over to your mailbox to add the finishing touch there. Diagonally you painted the rune for your last name on the side that had been sanded clean of the former clan’s name on the log shaped mailbox. The final touch spreading grins across the faces of your neighbors seeing you were settling in even more to your spacious abode. Brushes washed you double checked the paint then hammered on the backing and with the help of an eager trio of teens passing by the shelves were brought inside your sisters’ room to be the start of their storage system. Out they headed to finish their trip to their friends house complimenting you on the shelves and scooter. Flipping the switch for the garage to close you ensured the paint was sealed and set on the workbench built into the back wall beside the brushes.

From the store you got more ideas to add to your collection of notes for your book that by dinner you had finished writing down complete with sketches. With dishes put in the washer you ran your first full load and to the hum of the machine were off to bed once the locks were double checked. Buried nice and snuggly in your covers you were deep in sleep for a time, at least until midnight, when your eyes split open to the doorbell that halted Kuu’s latest song.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!” Brushing the covers back you huffed feeling your tank top falling around your hips over your shorts on the tiptoed trot to the front door grumbling all the way as your messy bun only drooped lower down your neck.

Under the lights of your lanterns once the door was cracked your brow twitched up at the eight foot silvery white Great Owl staring at you with amber eyes. “Hello,” you softly said in Vanyar tilting its head in looking you over.

“I heard singing.” The eyes shifted inside when Kuu had begun again and into your arm holding the door her head pressed in a step forward to enter your house, “That is not my mate,” once past you her head turned around as you closed the door again triggering her to turn her body around to ask, “Have you seen my mate?”

“I,” instantly it clicked in your head and you asked, “His name wouldn’t be Hector, would it?”

Instantly her feathers puffed up and she shivered excitedly, “You know my mate! Where is he? I have been searching. We lost our nest, we must nest again soon. We have no time.”

“Well, um, let me get something and I’ll be back, you can talk to him.” Stepping around her she moved as you did following you to your bedroom inspecting everything along the way while you grabbed your phone and dialed the Aviary’s direct office line. Lifting it to your ear you guided her back out to the dining room where you set the laptop on the table readying it for a video chat, “Hey Drued, ya I understand it’s late.”

“Is something wrong with your owl?” Your eyes shifted to the owl holding her head closer to your phone to listen in to the odd device making her let out an awkward croak.

The sound halted Kuu’s song and curiously he tapped on Belly’s house to wake him starting their path to inspect the house. “No, but I need to talk to Hector.”

“At this hour?! You know he has a schedule!”

“Yes, but his mate showed up at my door.”

“His-,” a moment he paused then said, “I’ll set up the video chat, hold on.”

“Yup,” Turning on your seat to the sound of ruffling feathers you found Kuu eyeing the larger owl now turning to look him over while Belly flew to your shoulder. “Guys, this is Hector’s mate. I’m getting him on a call now,”

The phone had been left on hold but a bloop from your laptop had heads turning to it post mini argument Hector surely had given. A few circling dots and you tapped accept on the call and waved to Drued, the man who said, “Hey Jaqi,” Though his eyes shifted to Belly in his own wing stretching moment to wake up some more before seeing the duo of owls both coming into view.

Through the screen Hector came into focus and the mates chirped and croaked awkwardly in a happy joint ruffle of feathers to be partly together again while you stroked Kuu’s head and said, “I’ll make you some peas.”

He hurried to fetch his bowl and came back to hear all he had missed, though once caught up you heard your name again on the laptop, “Jaqi?”

Back to her side you went in her irritated huff at the conversation being halted, “Ya?”

“I just got off the phone with the big bosses and it seems they want me to load up Hector to bring him over. Now I know Beryl is a drive-,”

“I moved, sorry, meant to update the address,”

“Ah, closer or farther way?”

“Cerulean Circle, not too far from the Aviary.”

Giving him the full address his grin eased out and said, “Shouldn’t take more than an hour to get him out there to see her, if you can keep her calm till then.”

Over your shoulder however you watched her turn and mumble, “I shall ready and locate a nest.”

“Nest?” you repeated as she left the room to explore the house.

Drued asked, “What, what did she say?”

Looking to him you said, “She said she’s looking for a nest.”

“Do you have space for a Great Owl nest?”

“I, don’t know. I mean I have space, I just don’t know where she would pick to nest.”

Kuu joined her saying, “I shall aid in her choosing.”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Just, do what you can, I’ll keep her busy here.”

He nodded and wet his lips, “One more thing, you never mentioned you had a Zebra Striped Raven.”

“I told you about-,”

“Your raven, yes, but not a Zebra Striped one.”

“Is that, a problem? I have him registered-.”

“No, in fact, we have one here, Darling, she’s no doubt older than him. Only, she’s refused to mate with any of our other males we’ve brought her that weren’t striped and she’s recently stopped flying.”

“Oh that’s bad.”

He nodded, “Usually means they’ve given up on surviving from loneliness. Would you mind if we bring her?”

“No, I mean if it’ll help her perk up, to stay or just a visit?”

“Well hopefully they would hit it off and she could stay to nest. Though, she won’t go anywhere without her adopted sister. Dot.”

“Ok,”

“She’s got freckled wings and tail feathers and is just as stubborn as they come for mates.”

Belly again was at you side on the table and cocking his head, “Mates?”

His golden speckled green eyes landed on you and you said with a grin, “They have a Zebra Striped Raven at the Aviary, her name is Darling. They’re asking if you would want to meet her?” Instantly his feathers ruffled in excitement and you added, “She would only travel with her adopted sister though, Dot, so there would be two new friends for you. The sister has freckled wings and tail feathers.”

In a glance around Belly replied, “We could ask over Roac no doubt he could bond with Dot.”

Drued asked, “Roac?”

Belly delved into Roac’s qualities Thorin had shared with him and chuckling at the bird matchmaking service Drued had to end the call to help ready the trio coming over. With another wiggle on his feet he flew off, “I shall ready my nest!”

Shaking your head you grumbled and lifted your phone to make a call.

Pt 24

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess​​​, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​, @mariannetora​, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

[btswishes]

Surprise!

Au Short One Shot

A/N: This was a quick One Shot idea I had. Hope you guys liked it, sorry for any mistakes made.

Word count:  1,354

Warnings:Scussing

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

    University is a special word, it makes adults cringe from past memories and current students feel the need to go buy more ramen, in case their stash has lowered in quantity drastically. You were a normal student- leaving studying sometimes for 1 day or 6 hours before an exam. You lived in a dorm with 1 more girl, F/N and she was super cool but more of the party animal. You preferred usually to stay home and be lazy after the occasional study binge. Tonight was no exception. 

“This one or this one?”F/N popped her head out of her room and swung two hangers in your field of vision. Without saying anything you pointed at the black dress. In a matter of seconds your friend went back in her room to finish getting ready.As she was sitting down and trying to do her makeup she yelled out from the open door “You sure you wanna stay behind?”

“Yeah, I am fucking tired from all the studying and I have an exam early tomorrow. If I get wasted I might forget the things I stuffed in my head.” you grabbed a blanket and sat on the couch with your laptop in front of you.

“So what are your plans for the night then?”

“Probably watch a movie, after that straight to bed with me.” you sighed, poking your head from inside the cocoon 

“Ait, suite yourself.” she closed the door of her room and stood tall next to the TV “How do I look? Would or wouldn’t bang?”

“100% would bang if I was drunk and high enough.” 

“You are awful I swear!”your friend threw her bag in your face, but thanks to the blanket armor you didn’t feel a thing

“HAHA! Lazy protection! You can’t hurt me.” tossing back the object you smiled at her “You look hot F/N, don’t worry about it.” she put on some heels and opened the door “Hey!”you stopped her

“Yeah?”

“Not taking a coat?” 

“Nah.”with her thumb she pointed at the room next to yours “We are literally at Joanna’s.”

“Ughhh, I hope yall let me sleep at least.”

  In a matter of minutes you already heard the music start and your friend was gone. Sighing, you tried to find a cool movie to watch but there weren’t many options catching your eye, so you just pulled out your phone and started messaging a bunch of friends you don’t meet face to face often. 

  To your surprise a lot of them answered you and after the video call suggestion you jumped on a skype group call.

“Yo guys!”you swing your arms under the blanket and Amy laughed out

“What are you doing at this hour?” 

“My roommate went to party literally next door!” you explained with a obvious pissed expression 

“Bruh, don’t you have a test tomorrow or something like that?” Brad asked and you simply nodded “So,you gonna break under the pressure and go drinking or just be a good kid and stay here?”

“As you can see that is why I called yall...wait.” you pulled out your phone immediately after noticing it lighting up “It’s my boyfriend, give me a sec.”

“OOOOOO” Jenny almost busted everyone’s eardrums “Is that the legendary boyfriend we were hearing so much about?? ?”

“Has to be, judging by the way she is smiling.”Amy pointed at you

“Yall stop! Yeah it’s him, I am just gonna tell him I am going to bed and all that stuff.” you tapped real quick and turned off the phone after he send a kissy emoji “So how have you all been?”

“I feel like shittttt.” James slammed his hands onto his desk, when his mom yelled at him and he had to say sorry, making everyone laugh hard. You wiped the tear forming in the corner of your eye and continued until everyone said how they were feeling.

“So, so far only James feels like the world is ending.” you smirked in his direction 

“Wasn’t he always like that?” Jenny stated 

“You know what?” James smacked his middle finger in his monitor “Fuck you all!”

“What a gentleman.” Amy continued when you heard a knock on the door.

“Wait guys.” you stepped out of the blanket and asked who it is when you heard Jooheon’s voice on the other side. Opening the door, he quickly walked inside the room.

“Babe?” he didn’t respond to you at all, but was looking around the room and gathering your clothes at random “Jooheon what are you doing?” you grabbed him by the shoulder while the whole scene was happening right in front of your friends’s view.

“Where is your stuff?” he asked without looking at you

“What are you doing ?!” you pointed at your room and he went in ,before walking out with your backpack and a sack filled with your stuff.

“Let’s go.” his arm was firm around your wrist when you stopped him

“Jooheon what for fucks sake are you doing right now?! You suddenly walk in my dorm and start doing strange things without talking to me or even looking at me.”

“I..” he finally made eye-contact with you and it was serious “I am not leaving you here alone when there is a frat party happening right next to your room.���

“What?” you were once more clueless after his words left his mouth “I am fine! Its’not like the party is happening in my room.”

“No, it’s not fine at all. I am not leaving you here alone. Your roommate will probably bring a guy back.”

“She has a different room than me.” you were trying to pull away, but Jooheon was getting pissed off since he wasn’t making any progress. His arm let go of your wrist with a strong pull in his direction. You lost your balance for a second and found yourself flush against him as his free arm wrapped around your hips and pulled you even closer. Jooheon’s gaze was intense and looking at you with a pinch of anger.

“Listen here baby girl, I am not gonna leave your innocent self here alone. You are coming to my place and that is final. I will deal with your annoyance later ok kitten? Now go get dressed and lets go.” it felt like waking up from a trance when he let go of your body. You nodded and jumped in front of your laptop.

“Hey guys call you in a bit.” and hung up

  It didn’t take long before you found yourself in the passenger seat of Jooheon’s car. Pulling your phone out you tried to call your friends again. When they picked up everyone went crazy with questions.You tried to answer them as best as you could.

“Well technically I am being kidnapped by my boyfriend in the name of my safety. I am literally wearing his coat and my pajamas under that.”

“Damn girl you found a wild one.”Jenny laughed out 

“Shhhhh he can probably hear you!”Amy panicked 

“Wait don’t you have an exam tomorrow.Early?” James interrupted the girl-talk

“I will drive her you don’t have to worry about that.” his voice was low like a silent growl 

“I- I will catch yall later.” your eyes were stuck on him as you hung up the phone and placed it back in your bag.

  The ride was silent but his hand didn’t move from your thigh. “I have popcorn and a movie waiting upstairs. I thought at lest we can have a date night after I kinda broke in your place and kidnapped you.”

“That is sweet actually, I was planning to do that but I couldn’t find a nice movie.”

“Well I did, not as nice as you tho.” he flashed you that oh so familiar sunshine smile 

“Oh you are soooo cheessyyyy!”

And it didn’t stop here. You two had a very nice night together and he drove you in time for the exam, even picked you up and went on a ride around town. You thought that in the end of the day things didn’t go as planned but were actually better this way.

[yminie]

nine-one-one | uno | pjm (m)

pairing: Jimin x Reader genre/warnings: angst, smut (to come), fluff (to come), oldflame!pairing, detective!jimin, firstresponder!reader, mentions of death, mentions of homicide, mentions of murder, mentions of suicide, mentions of mental health problems, mentions of weapons, explicit language, implied stalking. Words: 10.6k summary: when murder and crime threaten the city of Seoul, there’s a team in place to help keep the public safe, but just what do you do when all your training is to help others, and the one that needs help is actually you?

Working in the field that you do, and for as long as you have, you could almost swear you could tell the kind of day it would be just by the way you felt in the early morning. And days like today gave you a harrowing sense of dread right from the get go.

The darkness still enveloping your room along with the rain smattering along your apartment window when your alarm interrupted your rest was only the beginning. The thick, sticky dregs of sleep still pulling at your tired muscles and lingering long after you dragged yourself into the shower, only withdrawing upon your second cup of coffee.

Sore muscles complain when you’re forced to dig deep into the hallway cupboard in an attempt to find the umbrella you’d stashed within, and you nearly poke your eye out on a stray coat hanger before you manage to find it. Water splashes high on your feet on your walk to the underground subway, enough to wet the hems of your trouser legs, and you curse under your breath when a particularly deep puddle has the top of your ankle sock on your right foot starting to dampen. Quickly, you step under the covering of the subway stairs and try your best not to slip in any more stray puddles.

That same wet smell permeates the air within the carriage, and you try your best not to be thrown into the wet back of the man in front of you as you both hold firmly onto the bars overhead. The humidity that moisture carries seems to elevate the body odour that’s so familiar within the tight carriages, and you’re grateful once more that you don’t actually live too far from your workplace, even if it means you live in the heart of the city.

A quick pit stop into the coffee shop on the corner makes the walk along the last block more bearable, and you’re already halfway through by the time you scan your ID and enter the building. It’s still early, only brushing on around 7am, but the station is abuzz with people no matter the time of day. There are people filing both in and out as you make your way through, some starting their day and some coming to the end, but thanks to the dreary weather outside, everyone looks just as somber as each other.

Climbing aboard the elevator, you sigh as you shrug your coat from your shoulders, and just as the doors start to rattle closed, you hear a familiar voice shout from outside.

“Hold the elevator, please!” Hand shooting forward, you just manage to catch the doors before they close, and seconds later Jimin bustles inside. His arms are curled around a box that's filled to almost overflow, and you feel sorry for the knowledge that it’s no doubt paperwork he’s going to file and delegate to his officers.

The one thing you’ve been asked the most during your time within the bureau had to be ‘is it weird working with your ex-boyfriend?’. Not that long ago, just a few years, it’d been ‘isn’t it weird to work with your boyfriend?’ or, ‘are you even allowed to date someone in the force if you work in the same station?’.

Because, yes, Jimin and you had dated long enough for your friends to question the lack of ring on your third left finger, and yes, the two of you had split after seven years together. But no, it was never weird to work with him.

You’d been together for just a year and a half when he’d been recruited into the force, nearly three years when you’d started your position as a first responder. With the mental strain on both of you from working such jobs, it had worked for the other to understand your moodiness and be their for mutual support. A united understanding and appreciation for what the other chose to do as their career, and it’d worked, for a while.

But things changed when Jimin had been promoted to detective. Your once coinciding shifts now clashing, and the absence of the other quickly becoming too hard to bear as the effort of trying your best to spend time with each other became tiresome, and the intimacy you’d once thrived in had disappeared altogether.

Thus, you’d split as a mutual agreement, admitting both to yourselves and each other that it would be far easier to go on alone without that ghost of a partner that never came to fruition lingering over your heads. And it was easier, your downtime free for you to truly relax and unwind rather than stress, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you never missed him.

You were teenage sweethearts after all, growing up and going through all the biggest milestones of both your educations and careers together. Always having had the other there to cheer you on and inspire you, Jimin’s boyish charm winning you over time and time again along with his thoughtfulness and love for those he cared about. And for him it was your generosity, your giving nature and that sparkle in your eyes whenever you looked at him. The love between you like no other.

It still hurt to know you’d both let it die.

“God, I feel sorry for your team. That looks disgusting!” Jimin’s eyes curve into crescent moons as he glances from you to the box and back again, and you find yourself smiling back at him automatically, his amusement contagious.

“I definitely don’t miss doing this kind of paperwork!” He shuffles slightly in place as he gets a better grip on the box, and the two of you stand in a comfortable silence as the doors close with a ding and the metal box whirs slightly as it starts to move.

“Are you finishing soon?” Jimin nods, looking over you slowly as though inspecting, and you feel your insides warm at the way he still gives you his close attention.

“Yeah finish as soon as these papers are filed. You don’t look like you slept too well last night, make sure you eat a good lunch.” The doors roll open and he smiles gently at you as he prepares to step out onto his floor, the room beyond even busier than the first level as people bustle back and forth while they rush to complete their work.

“Remember to eat before you go to sleep. And it’s getting cold, time to stop turning the fan on too high or you’ll get sick.” Jimin laughs heartily as he steps out of the elevator, turning back to smile wistfully at you before he gets nabbed by one of his officers, and you find yourself grinning even after the doors close on his back and continues on to your floor. You still knew each other so well even after all this time.

Turning a blind eye to the idea that your small chat with Jimin had improved your mood, you walk to your desk with a slight pep in your step, smiling gently at your coworkers as you pass them and offering a supportive nod at those on a call with furrowed brows and shaky voices.

That was the thing about working as a first response attendant; you could never know what kind of call was going to come through next. You yourself had been subject from things as mundane as a pet stuck up a tree to draining calls involving countless minutes of gently spoken words talking someone down from the edge as they contemplated ending their life. Life in the station was truly like a box of chocolates; if some were deluxe caramel, and others were full of sewerage.

Solar comes back to her desk just as you drape your coat over the back of your chair, and she lifts her coffee up in salute before taking a long sip, rolling towards you on her chair as you fix your earpiece onto the side of your head.

“It’s been stupid crazy this morning, I’m warning you. What is it about rainy days that make people so much dumber than usual? Someone tried to call an ambulance from me because they sprained their ankle slipping over, like, what?” She stares at you, baffled, and you chuckle quietly into the back of your hand as you wait for your computer to boot up. Days were always a little less grueling with her by your side.

“The traffic out there today was an accident waiting to happen. Won’t be surprised if we get lots of angry collision-related phone calls today,” Solar nods with a groan, but the two of you are quickly distracted as the line in your ears start to ring, and you quickly jump on your first call of the day.

__________

It’s only an hour or so into your shift when the coffee starts to kick in, and without hesitation you quickly shut your line and put your earpiece aside, fingers massaging around your ear as you arch your back in an indulgent stretch. The office is quiet for now, only the gentlest hum of white noise as many calls and conversations in blend into one, and your footsteps echo louder the further you get down the main corridor, turning into the bathrooms.

Relieving yourself as quickly as you can, you drift around the corner back into the hall, fully intending on heading straight back to your desk, but a dark shape in the corner of your eye catches your attention, and the sight pulls you to a stop in the break room doorway.

“I didn’t see you come upstairs. Are you okay?” The front of Jimin’s hair is getting a bit longer than usual, darkening at the roots as his hair grows out of it’s dye job, and the way it drapes around his forehead betrays the notion of stressed fingers running through the strands. His head automatically lifts upon the sound of someone speaking, but he doesn’t bother to stay guarded when it’s you, composure bleeding away into visible signs of anxiety. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

His skin is sunken and devoid of colour, the muscle in his jaw ticking as his expression refuses to ease, and you find yourself stepping forward before you can think twice.

“I was getting ready to leave and then...the paperwork for last weeks case came back in.” Jimin lifts his hands to rub over his tired eyes, and the light glints off the same ring you bought him for his birthday four years ago, firmly fit on his right pointer finger.

“Ah, I see.” And you do. You know exactly the one, and you know just how profoundly the suicide case of fourteen-year-old Seo Ju-hyun had hit Jimin. Only fourteen, so fresh and new to the world and yet so rought by struggle and sadness. The day the call had come in you’d been in the office, a first hand witness to just how awful it’d been for everyone, and given Jimin’s personal history within his family, suicide was always going to be a struggle for him.

You’d never met his sister, but the heaviness of her death had lingered within Jimin for many, many years. Park Seo-yeong had been a bright, bubbly girl, who to her parents and brothers’ knowledge had many friends and great grades. But even those things couldn’t stop a certain pain from growing within her as well. She’d been sixteen when she’d taken her own life, and you never ever forgot the dates September 3rd and July 21st, from birth till death, and the little rose scented tealight candles Jimin would light each year beside her photograph in his lounge room; a silent, sweet remembrance of her spirit.

“When are you able to go home?” Leaning your hip against the table he sits at, you ignore the itch in your fingers that urge for you to reach out and brush the messy hair back from his forehead, a force of habit.

“Reports are processing so, very soon. I just...had to get away for a minute.” You know exactly what he means, the buzz and rush of the officer departments downstairs. With Jimin being one of the detective heads, he especially didn’t get much chance to breathe, always someone around the corner to pull him aside or ask him for his advice.

“You know you’re welcome up here any time, Mr Kim Seokjin wouldn’t dare tell you no.” Jimin’s lips lift at one side at the mention of your department head, and the knowledge of his penchant for a soft side, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“And I appreciate it as always.” Jimin stands slowly, the drag of his chair against the linoleum floor grating on your eardrums, and the two of you wince in tandem before he refocuses on you. “And I appreciate you. Thank you for checking up on me.”

This time you can’t help yourself, even if it is just a gentle hand on Jimin’s bicep. The muscle flexes automatically in reaction to your touch, but he quickly relaxes into your comfort, body almost leaning even closer towards you. But you merely pat his arm gently before leaning back and fixing him with a small smile before speaking. “Old habits die hard.”

“_____, sorry I didn’t want to interrupt, but I’m leaving now and we really need you on the floor.” Another of the first responders, Lee Taemin, has popped his head around the breakroom door, and is now regarding both you and Jimin with a sheepish look on his face. The two of you break apart quickly, Jimin clearing his throat quietly, and you walk round the table with a nod.

“I’m coming right now, go clock out!” Taemin smiles gratefully, tilting his head in farewell towards Jimin before disappearing once more, and you only pause in the doorway to look back for a few seconds, finding Jimin with his eyes still on you. “I meant it when I said eat something before bed. And use that lavender aromatherapy scent in your diffuser when you go to bed, it’ll help you sleep.”

“Yes, mum.” Jimin’s face finally breaks out in a grin, and his crescent moon eyes and shining cheeks are the last thing burnt into your brain as you make your way back to your desk with hurried footsteps.

You’ve learnt over time there’s nothing you can say to make the hurt feel better, especially not for those so rawly exposed to it every day. You can only be there should those people need your shoulder to cry on or your hand to hold.

__________

The weather seems to stay consistent for the days following, the storm so strong the sound of rain and thunder reaches you within the building, and you’re just finishing up some emails when Taemin leans around Solar to whisper to you.

“Have you heard about the new case they picked up downstairs?” You glance at your friend between you, hearing her sigh softly as she advises the caller for a third time that he should be calling the non emergency line, before shaking your head at him. “Minho was telling me about it on his break, apparently some wacko is getting around the near suburbs leaving behind young girls they’ve strangled to death.”

“I heard about that this morning.” Solar seems to finish up her call finally, and you’re not surprised that she’d overheard, watching as she throws her earpiece down with frustration. “All the girls look the same right? Same colour hair, similar length, same colour eyes.”

“Bitter over an ex girlfriend maybe?” Your eyebrows are furrowing into a frown as you speak, brain working hard to think of all and any other possibilities. “Wouldn’t be the first time a killer used it as motive. Those poor girls…”

“He’s up to three now. First was found nine days ago.” Taemin and yourself look at Solar in surprise. “The general police service were regarding it as normal homicide but have decided it calls for further investigation. Which is why they’ve only passed it on this week.”

“Nine days...Three girls. That makes one every three days.” Silence falls over the three of you as you finish speaking, and only the beeping in yours and Taemin’s earpieces breaks the haze of sadness that had overcome you. He wheels back over to his desk in a flash, accepting the call, and you pause for a few seconds to breathe before accepting your own. “What is your emergency?”

Two days pass, the week rolling into your last day of work before your two days off, and you can't get your mind off the conversation you’d had with Taemin and Solar. Even knowing how hard the detectives would be working to solve the crime and find the killer, you could suppose it was that classical fear you were taught to have as a young woman that had you pondering the dangers that still lurked in the night.

It’d been the talk of the office since news had broken, everyone and their mother knowing the names of the victims, curious eyes drawn by temptation to peek into the offices downstairs upon passing for the chance to see the faces. But not you.

Perhaps it was due to time, being in the position you were for so long, you’d come to grow out of that temptation of knowing. Now, you didn’t want to know, you simply wanted it to stop. You’d seen, heard, and felt too much loss and pain first hand, and for the wellness of your soul you could only take so much.

Broken from your reverie by the ever grating chime in your ear, you sigh and accept the call, blinking slowly as your hands hover over the keyboard in front of you.”Hello, what is your emergency?”

The line crackles and for a second you think you’re not connected, but you identify the repeated noise a sharp breaths too close to the microphone, and you ask again. “Hello, can you hear me? What is your emergency?”

“Kill me, kill me, kill me.” You almost flinch at the sudden voice, deep, scratchy and thick with distress. “Fuck, please! Let me die, let me die–”

“S-Sir, are you alright? I can get you whatever help you need, you just need to tell me where you are–” your heart starts to pound in your chest, and you can feel your fingers twitch as you try your best to stop them from shaking.

“Don’t need help.” He cuts you off, voice cracking. “D-Don’t need help. Not me, not me–”

“Sir, please take a deep breath and try to stay calm, what is your address?” you speak as gently as you can, taking another quiet breath as an omen to your own advice.

“I didn’t-didn’t want to do it! She m-made me! She made me do it!” There is a scuffling on his end of the line and you can hear his breath rate start to climb again. “S-She made–she made me.”

“What did she make you do, sir?” You can feel eyes on you, a burning gaze on your cheek, but you ignore it in favour of staring deep into the recesses of your computer screen, hands starting to shake.

“Didn’ wanna! Why’d she make me?” The male on the other end of the call starts to sniffle and hiccup, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s crying. “Why?”

Your fingers fly across your keyboard as you type as quickly as you can, and you can hear the computer whirring as it starts to process through the many files needed in order to scope across the phone service. Code after code flies by as it works hard on pinpointing the location of the service tower your caller is closest to, and you try your best to keep things calm as you wait.

“Are you hurt, do you need an ambulance?” His breath rating is further climbing as muffled sobs reach your ears, and you can feel your heart pounding as you watch the processing percentage reach 80%. Thirty seconds more and you’ll be closer to reaching your caller.

“Not hurt, not me.” He takes a shuddering breath that you can almost feel within your own lungs. “B-But she–she made me, I swear!” 89%, 90%, 91%...

“What, sir?” You finally become desperate, preparing to open a joint line in order to contact dispatch. “What did she make you do?” 96%, 97%...

“K-Kill. She made me kill.” 98%...

Your heart stops. And the line drops, dial tone echoing through your ear.

__________

“Did you hear?” Solar asks as she places a fresh cup of coffee beside you, and you nod slowly, feeling the kink still sharp in your neck, a clear sign of the horrendous sleep you’d been suffering the past few days.

“Of course I heard. Detective Jung came and spoke to me about it first thing this morning.” You’d even been requested to come into work early this morning, surrendering your network details in order for the detectives to access the recording of your conversation with the man. You’d been unsuccessful in tracking his call, but they assured you in a case such this, even the slightest points of evidence were crucial and beneficial.

“So it’s true then. They think the man that called you is the killer that’s been getting around?” Solar leans close to you, and you can feel the way the others in the room starting to stare and eavesdrop. “The one that killed those girls?”

“You already know the answer to that.” She finally breaks her stare on you and you see guilt flicker over her expression.

“Sorry, I know you’ve been upset. I shouldn’t have…” She starts to backtrack as you knew she would, but you shake your head and lift your mug to sip the hot caffeine before you.

“It’s fine, I’m fairly sure you’re not the only one that’s been wanting to speak to me about it.” You glance around automatically, not missing the way the occupants of your neighboring desks quickly glance away. You can’t really blame them though, usually the involvement of anyone from first response ends at the ending of the call, rather than directly involved in an investigation.

You leave your desk to relieve yourself in the bathrooms, and when you come back it’s to one of the young female responders talking to Solar, a frown marring her normally pretty features.

“It was really weird, though, I knew the call connected but they hung up straight away.” The girl looks up at your approach, and you immediately join in the confusion, tilting your head at her as she reiterates the event again. And then Solar connects to a call, just to leave everyone frozen in place. “It was just their–”

“What is your emergency?” A few seconds pass, and Solar immediately looks up at the younger girl, mirroring her horrified expression. “Hello? Are you there? What is your–”

Her face transforms into shock, and as you sit back in your chair, she turns to the younger girl. “I–”

“The breathing?” At her nod, you share a look before slipping on your headset, jumping in your seat as it automatically starts to beep with an incoming call. The two girls beside you lean closer almost involuntarily, curiosity swimming in their eyes.

“What is your emergency?” Your tongue suddenly feels paper dry as you speak, sticking to the roof of your mouth, but it’s nothing compared to the way your blood starts to immediately turn cold.

“Why! Why did you do it!” Your eyes shut as flashbacks race through your mind, and your fingers run across the keyboard before you so hard it slips against the desk. “I didn’–didn’t wanna!”

“Sir, I need you to take a deep breath and stay very calm for me okay?” Data levels pop up immediately, and you open up a line with the phone on the lower level, hearing it beep lowly in the background of your call as the line rings and rings. Your lip aches as you chew on the swelling flesh, deja vu hitting you hard as the scanning percentage rises just as slowly as last time, and the desperation rushing through your blood has your skin burning from the inside out.

“GOD, LET ME DIE, PLEASE–” His sudden screams have you flinching hard, breath escaping you, and you can just hear Solar whimper in panic beside you, not bothering to turn and see her distraught expression. “Let me die, please. Kill me, kill me–”

“This is Detective Park, how can I help you response unit?” You’re at work, and you know it, but something in your panic has your brain short circuiting, and you lose all sense of protocol as you barely remember to switch your line to the internal transfer. You can still hear his begging, but you can’t give him the priority.

“J-Jimin! He’s back. The caller is back, he–”

“Are you on the line? Get me his details, _____,” You can faintly hear Jimin turning away from the phone as you watch the percentage continue to rise, and for a few seconds there is nothing but a tense silence on your end as the data peaks–

And you’re in, an automatic scan of Seoul shows on your screen, and you hurriedly type as you do your best to then pinpoint his exact location.

“Jimin he’s pinging within range of the southwest tele service.” Jimin repeats what you’ve said to whoever he has helping him on his end of the line, and you cut away as the system starts to almost erratically scan through each zone, switching yourself back to the receiving line.

“Sir, I need you to take deep breaths for me okay? I’m going to help you, I just need you stay calm.” The man is in hysterics, and you almost feel bad lying to him. But you force yourself to remember he was a killer, and he needed to be caught before he kills again.

“You can’t help. No–no one can help!” You flinch again as you hear him lash out, the sound f something shattering reaching you through the line, and your heart thumps so hard against your ribs you fear it might just break through. “No one, no one, no one!”

He has yet to notice the way you’re going silent ever so often, and for that you’re thankful, but you know it’s only a matter of–

“She made me do it! She made me!” You cant help the way tears are starting to well over in your eyes, and you jump with a gasp as Jimin shouts your name, trying hard to break through the wall you’re muffling it all behind in your overwhelmed state.

“_____! Sweetheart, you need to breathe, okay?” Only now do you notice the way your chest is shuddering as you start to sob, and the heavy hand you feel on your shoulder is inevitably Solar as she stands by your side.

“He’s–” You take a breath, sniffling slightly as you blink the wetness out of your eyes, hard. “Pinging south-westerly refined into a range of around twenty miles–”

Red flashes across your screen, and the silence that’s now resounding in your ear is so loud even devoid of his screaming that it takes you a few seconds to understand.

The signal is gone.

“_____?” Jimin prompts you again, and you feel disappointment give the same rush of emotions from before a heavy shove as you embody the feeling, slumping forward onto your desk as you bury your face into your hands, a sob escaping you. “Oh, darling.”

“–around twenty miles refined, south westerly, pinning him within radius of Incheon and Yongsan-Gu. C-Call disconnected before further identification could be made. Time is 16:23, the eleventh of the fifth, two thousand and nineteen.”

__________

“I am truly sorry to have to bring you down here, _____. I know the calls have affected you quite...profoundly. I can assure you we’re taking every precaution in order to make this as stress free for you as we can.” Detective Jung is telling the truth, but you both know nothing would ever make listening to that call again any easier. But it’s never easy in this line of work, that you’d come to know faster than anything in the force.

“I’ll do anything for these calls and deaths to stop happening, detective.” Jung nods solemnly at your sureness, and for a moment he stands with his lips parted, lungs full as he attempts to say something, only to stop himself and shake his head with a gentle smile.

“And I commend you on it.” He gestures with his hand to guide you back out of his office, joining you as you both walk through the bustling floor outside towards the elevator, and you’re standing before the metals doors waiting as Jimin materialises by your side.

“It’s your day off today. Why are you here?” Jimin shoots a reproachful look towards his partner, and Jung merely smiles sheepishly before stiffening his form and walking away, nodding to you as he departs. “You’re meant to be resting–”

“Aaand I will be the moment I get home, so you don’t have to stress.” You feel strangely underdressed and unkempt in your tshirt, jeans and hair still damp from the rain outside; watching the officers walk by in full uniform and looking at Jimin dressed in his business shirt and slacks. His jacket is missing though, no doubt draped over the back of his chair, and you have a clear view of the utility belt he still has attached around his waist, gun clearly in sight on his right hip and handcuffs shining on the other.

“Are you done here now?” You nod and when the elevator dings, he joins you inside. “Good, have you eaten?”

“Not ye–”

“_____, if you are still on the premises please make your way to the RU. _____, to the RU, priority one.” Regardless of the fact the doors are still open, you hear the PA loud and clear through the speaker above you, and both Jimin and yourself turn to look at each other. Your finger shifts from where it had been preparing to press the button for the ground floor, moving instead to the fourth, and you watch as the little number lights up and the doors close.

“Did they need you for something?” You almost jump at Jimin’s slight nudge to your arm, and he frowns slightly at how jumpy you’ve become, and though you’re ready to blame it purely on tiredness, it’s no use; he could read you like an open book.

Instead, you simply shrug and wait silently as the elevator makes it’s way up, ignoring the perspiration starting to bud along your skin; a clear sign of your anxiety. And the moment the doors open onto your floor, you knew you were right to feel scared.

The second elevator dings open beside the two of you as you step out, detective Jung and a few of his officers quickly stepping out, and Jimin immediately shifts into detective mode as he steps to stand at his partners side. You automatically go to join him as he immediately asks Hoseok what’s going on, but before you can eavesdrop for info, Taemin is running over to you, the young girl from the other day that you’d learnt the name of to be Jung Yein, though no relation to the detective beside you.

“_____! It’s–”

“Happening again!” The two of them are slightly out of breath, and you hold your hands up a soothing manner.

“What is happening again? Guys, breathe, it's okay–” but your attempts at calming them down are ignored.

“The call is coming in but the moment we answer it the caller disconnects!” You share a look with Jimin, and much to his obvious disdain you immediately take off through the floor, weaving through tables until you reach your desk. The group follows you closely, Jimin attempting to advise you to stop, but detective Jung lays a hand on his arm that you don’t see, and it’s enough to silence him for now.

Your fingers work purely from muscle memory as you log yourself into the server, and it’s a tense wait as your computer boots itself up and connects to the service, all of you watching as the little signal pops up in the bottom corner. Faster than you can think, you slot your earpiece onto your head and start to wait, glancing side to side as your coworkers stand in an intense silence right along with you.

The call barely beeps once and your hand flys forward to the answer key immediately, your motion followed quickly by Jimin's arm beside you, and it’s not until you’re answering the call that you realise what he’s doing. “What is your emergency?”

The sound of your voice comes through the landline phone atop your desk, and Jimin tones down the sound until it’s only just comfortably hearable, leaving the entire group to bear witness to the call as it all begins.

“Please, please! I want to die, why won't he let me die?!” Yein covers her mouth in shock, muffling the whimper that immediately escapes her, and somewhere in the back of your mind you compute the motion of her turning to bury her face into Taemin’s shoulder, his own soft features hardened and upset. “Please, tell me! Tell me!”

“Tell you to do what, sir?” Your hands are already shaking, the vividness of memories his voice triggers in your mind, but Jimin’s hand is resting close enough on the back of your chair that you can feel the warmth, and you force yourself to take a calming breath. “I can help you, all you need to do is tell me–”

“You wanna help me?!” You flinch aggressively as his voice comes through loud and dark, harsh enough that the entirety of your group surrounding the desk leans back slightly, varying levels of discomfort marring their features. All except Jimin, who’s gaze you can feel burning against your cheek, and when you turn to glance at him nervously, you find his expression devoid of any fear, pure anger alight in his eyes instead. “Tell me to jump!”

“J-Jump?” Your voice shakes involuntarily as you speak, and your lips stick together firm enough you part them with your tongue, ignoring the pang of pain as the dry skin almost splits. “Where are you, sir?”

“Up high.”

By now your system is up and running, calculating just like every other day his approximate location, and as the scanner moves into the file maximum of 20 miles, your heart starts to pound beneath your ribs. Fine tuning your program, you scan the new radius and watch as the fine tuning starts to roll through every phone service and connect phone within the area. It’s not that slow, around 6% every second, but you know by now that every single second is crucial, and as he starts to wane and sob, you find yourself scrambling for more time.

“I can help you! I promise!” He starts to deny you once more, threatening to jump and end it all, but you refuse to lose. “Trust me, I can make sure you’re nice and safe where he–” you glance at Jimin again, finding his stare still hard and focused on you “–he can’t make you do things anymore.”

“Y-You–” a painful wracking breath choke through him, and for a few moments of silence you think the call has dropped yet again, but then his voice comes through in a hushed whisper, “–you promise?”

“Yes, yes I promise!” The fine scrubbing moves in even closer, now at five miles, and you watch as the zone gets closer and closer to the building you’re all currently in. The group of detectives behind you start to shuffle nervously, the idea of the killer being so close clearly making them uncomfortable and even a little nervous. “You can trust me!”

“NO!”

You jump so hard in your seat, you slam your knee into the underside of the table, and fear freezes you in place as you gasp for air, fingers tight on your earpiece with the temptation to rip the infernal device from your ear. Unable to even feel the pain in your leg.

“Liar! You’re lying! You can’t help me! No one can help me!” Yein is openly crying into Taemin’s shoulder now, and you don’t even notice when he pulls her away, cradling her against his chest as she starts to breakdown into a panic. “All you ever do is lie! Stop lying!”

“Please don’t jump!” You can hear the wind loud in your ear as the air rushes past him on the other end of the line, and watching as the zone closes in, you’re suddenly struck by the idea of him standing atop Banpo Bridge, waiting for his time to jump. “I want to help you, please, let me help you!”

“I don’t believe you–!” The entire room stands stagnantly still as you stare hard at your screen, the infuriatingly familiar dial tone echoing through the room for a few moments until Jimin reaches forward and hangs up the landline.

“_____…” You can feel everyone’s eyes on you as you stay frozen in your seat, your only movement the sharp in and out of your chest as you gasp for air. But that confused, overwhelmed sadness quickly gives way to frustration, and you slip from his grasp before Jimin can hold you tightly in place, feet slapping against the floor as you run full steam ahead down the corridor and into the restroom.

He’d seen the glint of tears welling over your eyes before you’d run, leaving behind the clash of your earpiece landing abandoned on your desk, and he can only sigh softly before ordering his men into action. Jung gets to work on the analytics, immediately in contact with the tech team in order to request the recording of the phone call they’d all bore witness to, and once everything's in order, Jimin let’s himself sneak away after you.

“Knock, knock.” The sound of hurried sniffling and rustling reaches him through the door, and Jimin gently raps his knuckles against the wood, waiting for you to compose yourself enough to accept him.

“Come i-in.” He can’t help but frown, his own heart heavy in his chest at the sight of you all blotchy-faced and teary-eyed. It’s been a good few years since he’d seen you in such a state, but time had done nothing to dull just how awful your crying made him feel.

“I have lunch now. Come, let me take you home, my cars downstairs.” Jimin doesn’t approach the situation at hand, and for that you’re grateful, but you’re automatically shaking your head as he steps into the bathroom, barely sparing a glance for the few stalls to his side.

“Doesn’t detective Jung need to talk to me again?” Jimin continues to walk closer, shoes clicking slightly against the floor, and when he gets close enough he reaches out to grab the tissue roll from beside you, breaking off a piece to dab at a stray tear you’d missed on your jaw.

“Not today.” The finality in Jimin’s voice eases your stress, but something in the back of your mind notes that he’s probably made that decision on his own, rather than having spoken to the other detective about it. “Come. It’s storming even worse outside and I’m not letting you down into the subway in this weather.”

__________

“Another body showed up after the last call didn't it?” Your voice is grating against your dry throat, a mere whisper, but Jimin hears you all the same within the car, only the gentle pitter pats of rain on the windscreen interrupting you. You’re in traffic, as is to be expected of the late afternoon in the city, and sitting in one spot is making it harder to get your mind off what had happened.

“You don’t need to worry about it.” Jimin’s thumbs tap against the inner rim of the steering wheel, and your gaze catches on the bracelet glinting on his wrist, swaying with the slight movement of adjusting his hold. “What you do need to worry about is getting a cold. You should have a proper rain coat on, don’t just rely on the sidewalk awnings.”

He’s referring to the dampness of your hair from being drenched earlier, and you automatically run your fingers through the tangled strands. Not that he’s one to talk, the shoulders of his white business shirt slightly see through from having jogged through the rain to his car in the parking lot in order to bring it round for you to get in.

“Hmm.” You hum, having nothing of substance to say to him, and he sighs in response to your cold attitude, still feeling the stiffness of your undereyes from the salty tears they’d shed earlier.

Another few minutes pass –ten, maybe even fifteen– and the car had come a few blocks, when Jimin finally speaks up again, and his gentle question catches you off guard.

“Why do you do it?”

“What?” You’ve involuntarily turned to stare at him in surprise, finding him already looking at you as the brake lights from the car in front tinge red across his feature. His head is tilted, leant back against the headrest, and the angle he’s resting at leaves his jawline sharp and eyes slanted in the same way they’d first attracted you when he was just eighteen. Albeit now his face is a lot slimmer and more defined, lines from stress and natural age starting to marr his forehead and emphasise the crinkles of his eyes when he smiles. He was nearing on thirty, but he was still just as handsome as ever.

“Try so hard to talk him out of killing himself.” You blink at him in shock, lips frozen apart as you grasp for something to say, but come up empty. At the look on your face though, he starts to backtrack a little. “I know, I know it sounds awful. But he’s a killer, and there’s something about it that just makes me think...you know. Might just be a little easier if he’s choosing that path himself.”

“It’s just not right.” It’s not easy to reason with, because you know where Jimin is coming from, but you’re too set in your ways to think differently no matter what the person has done. “Suicide...it’s the easier way out for him. It’s not a punishment for his crimes by any means. Besides…” you start to trail off, but resolve your hesitance when you lock eyes with Jimin once again, “people don’t just kill themselves for nothing. Something’s not right with him, he’s...sick. And I can’t just stand by and let anyone commit that crime against themselves.”

“I didn’t fail to notice that he calls the emergency line until he gets in contact with you.” Jimin ignores the hesitance in your voice and moves on, the both of you knowing suicide to be a touchy subject for him. “I don’t like that one bit.”

“Jimin, I’m sure it’s not that serious. I spoke to him the first time he rang–”

“No, you didnt.” Jimin cuts you off, and you glance at him sharply, even as he keeps his eyes on the road, speeding up as the traffic starts to ease. “He’d already killed three girls before you spoke to him. And he’d had no bias opinion on who he wanted to speak to then.” Fear is a heavy drop of ice scalding you as it settles in your stomach, and you stay frozen in your seat, unable to look away from his lips and he speaks. “And now he won’t talk to anyone else.”

“Y-you don’t think he–” you can’t help the way you stutter, and Jimin’s eyes flicker to yours quickly before returning to the road. The feeling of his warm palm settling against your thigh makes you jump, but you quickly clutch at his fingers upon realisation, the familiarity of the feeling a small comfort.

“He’s not getting anywhere near you.” Jimin squeezes your cold digits, thumb stroking back and forth on the top of your hand. And you believe him, you really do, but that fear of the unknown leaves you sick to the stomach.

__________

Cold fingers wrap around your throat, burning your skin like fire as the faceless man squeezes your delicate windpipe, and you can feel the heat of his breath hitting your face as you gasp for air. You’re trying your hardest to reach up to his hold, attempting to loosen his grip and give you some sort of leeway to breathe, but your limbs are heavy and slow, sluggishly dragging behind an invisible weight as you kick your ever weakening legs.

“You told me you would help me!” His voice doesn't come from the dark shape before you, but from all around, and sharp pains stab in your ears at the volume of his shouting. “You told me! But you lied!”

“P-plea-suh!” Your head aches as your eyes start to roll back, chest burning with the effort of trying to draw in air but coming up empty, and numbness starts to creep in around the edges, starting in your toes and fingers, spreading through your bones and up your body.

Tap-tap-tap!

The faceless man’s head shoots to the side, knocking against a door somewhere in the distance throwing his attention off kilter, and you eagerly draw in the little bit of breath the distraction grants you.

“H-Help! Help me!”

“Fuck you!” His hold on you returns tenfold, and you can hear the sickening pop in your ears as ligaments and cartilage start to shift under his strength, and your best attempts to struggle become futile as unconsciousness approaches. The knocking of the door is still happening in the distance, becoming harder and harder to hear, and just as you blink your eyes one last time, you hear him once more. “You lied, and now you’re next.”

__________

Gasping desperately, you almost bolt out of your mass of bedsheets the moment your eyes fly open. Your hands are already on your neck, inspecting the damage before you fully come to, and the revelation that it was merely a nightmare has you releasing a shuddering breath, almost relaxing back against your pillows.

But then you hear it, the same noise that had leaked into your unconsciousness, and your body tenses almost painfully.

A gentle knock is echoing through your apartment from the door, and the sound has your skin crawling as you do your best to block out any more images of the horrific sights your nightmare had conjured up. Carefully, quietly, you climb from your bed and wrap yourself in the fluffy dressing gown draped across the end, tying the waist tight as you tiptoe through your apartment onto to come to a pause as the knocking no longer occurs.

You’re almost convinced the knocker is gone, when the sound happens again, a little bit louder than the last, and your fingers close in on the baseball bat resting just beside your entryway as you lean carefully in to hold your eye level with the peep hole…

Only to sigh in relief and shake your head at your own fear.

“Hey!” Your next door neighbor Taehyung greets you heartily, a surprised smile boxy across his cheeks, and you can’t help but smile at him yourself.

“Hey, whats up?” Taehyung gives you a once over, inspecting your state of underdress, and tilts his head curiously.

“I was almost ready to give up on my knocking, but I didn’t hear you leave for work this morning and I’m in desperate need of a plastic bucket if you have one?” You quirk your brow and laugh under your breath, not missing the way he flutters his lashes at you hopefully, and his smile only grows when you nod and invite him inside, immediately heading for your kitchen sink. Opening the cupboard below, you reach inside and take out his requested bucket, emptying it of it contents before you surrender it, a few cloths and a spritz bottle of shower cleaner that you’d forgotten you’d had.

“To what do you owe the requirement of my plastic bucket?” He takes the said item with a smile, a quiet thanks leaving his lips as the two of you make your way back to the front door.

“Got another leak in my apartment and one buckets being used in the bathroom for the one in there.” You screw up your face in an expression of disgust and he laughs. “Yeah, I know right?”

“Isn’t the landlord going to fix that for you? It’s been like that for ages!” You ask him, though you’re fully aware how unreliable landlords could be. But in your experience the older gentleman that owned your building was nothing but lovely, certainly not the type you’d thought to be one to inconvenience his tenants.

“Oh, he is! But in order to get up and fix my roof they need the water to be dried out. Which is kind of hard considering the way it keeps raining every week!” You hum in understanding as you lean against the frame of your apartment door, and the two of you nod in sync as he grins at you again, moving to turn back towards his own apartment before pausing. He seems a little hesitant when he faces you again, but he doesn’t step any closer. “You’re normally at work by now. Is everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh! Yeah, I’m fine just–” you grasp for the right thing to say, waving your hand in the air for a moment before giving up and letting your arm fall, shrugging instead, “–just needed a day off. Back to normal tomorrow, though.”

“Oh, okay.” He stands there for a few more moments, licking his lips as he contemplates saying something else, and you simply wait for him with a brow raised, left leg starting to ache with the way you’re leaning all your weight against it. “I...saw you get dropped off by a guy in uniform yesterday. Made me feel a little worried.”

“Oh, that’s just Jimin! He gave me a lift because of all the rain, didn’t want me out in the subway in this weather.” Taehyung's smile looks a little lacklustre, though he doesn’t give you the time to wonder why.

“Jimin-Jimin? Like your ex Jimin?” You nod silently, starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the displeasure tinging the edges of his voice. “Huh...okay.”

“Taehyung, is everything oka–?”

“I better get this bucket under that leak otherwise I’ll be inviting you over for a swim sooner rather than never!” And in an instant his disdain is gone, eyes alight with humour as he waves sweetly at you and takes the few last steps to his apartment. “Have a good day at work tomorrow! I promise to return your precious bucket as soon as I can!”

You’re smiling, waving him off as he closes his door behind him, but you can't help feeling a little off as you close your own door and lock yourself securely in, unable to get the look he’d given you upon the mention of Jimin out of your head.

What was wrong with Taehyung?

__________

Walking into work the next day is as unexciting as you’ve ever experienced, dread heavy in your stomach as you walk the familiar hallways to the elevator. Officers depart from the building, finished with their days, while others climb on with you, getting ready to start their Tuesday mornings.

Realistically you know that barely any of the officers working within this building know who you are and what’s been happening, but your mind is convinced everyone is staring and talking about you, leaving you to stand silent in the corner of the elevator. Head tilted down, chin tucked tight against your chest and your bag held firmly against yourself, you’re the perfect picture of anxiety.

The desk beside yours is empty, but you’d already known Solar had the day off today, and though she’d still thought to text her her well wishes and promises of your favourite donuts tomorrow, the loneliness hits you hard.

The tech man stops by briefly, updating you on the system and the added features, and you carefully nod along as he shows you a few new things you might need to use, but overall you’re glad; the system was going to run faster, meaning your chances of tracking callers was much higher. A sense of relief fills you both with this new reassurance, and the fact the the morning was quite...boring.

There are some calls you get that make your heart pound and hands shake, but there are even more that happen so often and quickly they almost become mundane. People calling over minor traffic accidents, some more severe than others, the occasional theft or people calling the police on their neighbors prematurely.

As the day drones on and nothing more serious progresses, you find your lack of decent sleep catching up to you, and so you slip from your desk and down to the break room. Your mug clinks as you slot it under the coffee machine, and you insert the caplet into the top with a sigh, waiting with your hip leant against the bench as the machine whirs to life and starts to pour your coffee.

Scrolling through your phone slowly, you’re surprised when a text pops up at the top, with Jimin’s name no less. The coffee machine beside you finishes its job, the low buzzing dying away and leaving you in silence as you chew on your lower lip, pressing the message and watching as the apps switch.

| Jimin (work) | 11:41am (I’m in office all day today.) (Don’t hesitate to call me if you need.)

You can't help but smile a little at his insistence to keep you as comfortable as possible. You couldn’t help but reflect on the past, having spent so much time with Jimin lately, and you’d be stupid not to notice the way the two of you seemed to naturally gravitate towards each other. But like you’d told him just last week in this very room, old habits die hard.

Because you’d always worried about each other. Jimin would worry about your mental state, having to deal with the grating calls every day, and you would worry about him, being out in the field fighting against crime and helping to keep the city safe. It had always been a necessary stress in your household, discomfort for the greater good, but you couldn’t deny it was a contributor to your relationship ending.

You’d loved each other for a long time, deeply so, but some things can’t be salvaged purely by love, and you’d both learnt that the hard way.

| You (mobile) | 11:43am (Of course.) (Thank you, Jimin..)

Blowing gently on the top of your coffee, you carefully walk back to your desk, careful not to spill any nor burn yourself. Settling back into your chair, you stretch slowly, the stiff muscles in your lower back not enjoying the way you’ve been sitting all morning, before picking your earpiece up once more and slipping it onto your head before sipping your drink carefully. The caffeine doesn’t work straight away to perk you up, but the warmth in your tummy feels nice, and you let yourself relax as you switch your channel back to open and answer another call.

Your plan for the coffee to wake you up a bit more seems to go unfulfilled however, as the afternoon comes around and the team sitting around you starts to dissipate. Your eyes ache from looking at your screen for so many hours, and you’re a little ashamed to note that you’re beginning to feel as though you may fall asleep at your desk any second.

“Hey.” It takes your drowsy mind a few seconds to recognize that the voice behind you is actually addressing you, and you slowly turn in your chair to blink up at Jimin slowly. The corner of his lips starts to twitch in amusement at your puffy, lidded eyes, the pout of your lips are clear giveaway to how tired you are, and for a second he remembers a vivid image of you nestled in his bedsheets of a morning, hair tousled and lips softly parted as little snores escape you. “You okay?”

“I feel so tired, I don’t know why.” You go to rub at your eyes before remembering the mascara you’d dutifully put on this morning, choosing instead to gently press down on your eyelid before blinking down at your lap a few times. The blurriness goes away slightly, but not entirely, and you sigh in exhausted frustration.

“You’ve been having nightmares again?” Jimin reaches over to fetch the free seat from Solar’s desk, spinning it until the back faces you before straddling the cushion. His arms are crossed over each other atop the back of the seat, forearms on display where his shirtsleeves are rolled up, and you can see the little scar on the side of his wrist he’d gotten at bootcamp when he turned 21.

And of course he remembers the nightmares, a result of your first ever witness to a murder on an emergency response call, Jimin having been the one to wipe your tears when you awoke in the middle of the night in a panic. It’d been a good few years since you’d been so strongly swayed by a case, and your lost sleep seemed to be more clear on your face than you’d realised.

“Just a bit. Nothing too bad.” You reason, fiddling with the hem of your skirt as he looks you over, and you can feel your cheeks flush under his gaze, baffling you. “Not as bad as they were.”

“Good, you shouldn’t have to go through that.” Jimin sits with you in silence as you listen to the general noise around the room, hearing Taemin at his desk two spaces over on a call sounding very frustrated. He was on the night shift tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel equally as sorry for him as you were thankful it wasn’t you in his place.

“What’s brought you up here?” You notice his bag on the floor behind him, jacket draped over the top, and you figure it’s a sign he’s about to go home.

“It’s nearly 5. You finish in a few minutes. Figured I’d come and ask if you wanted a lift home.”

He says it nonchalantly, but you can see the slight pink in his cheeks as he averts his gaze. He’s never been one to get flustered or embarrassed when it comes to caring for you or others he loves, but you know his nervousness stems from the fact you’re no longer together, and the idea that you could reject him. But you wouldn’t, even if your heart would let you.

“Yeah, actually. That’d be great–” You’re sitting up in your seat, already keen to leave, when your earpiece rings, and you know Jimin can hear it as he tilts his head to the side slightly and smiles. Apologetic, you smile back before turning to your computer and hide a yawn through a careful exhale, accepting the line and starting your usual speech. “Hello, what is your emergency–”

“Little fucking bitch! Fuck!” Your spine stiffens, a burning breath pulled through your nose and you inhale a gasp, and Jimin is immediately at your side. The landline on your desk quickly transmits your call into the room under his hands, and you can feel everyone’s eyes land on you.

The fear from last time is creeping back into your consciousness, cold and immobilising, but you force yourself to push through, not hesitating as you immediately pull up your programs and let your training guide you.

“Sir, please stay calm.” Your voice sounds strong though you’re anything but, and you will your fingers to move faster as you run the backup data programs, determined to end this torture and finally catch this man. But that doesn’t mean he can’t still effect you.

“Why did you do it! Why did you hurt me!” He’s not crying anymore, anger thick in his voice as the sound of impact crashes in the background, and you release a shuddering breath as you try to block him out. The new system update scans through the city almost twice as fast as it did last time, and you can feel a new lightness in your chest as the numbers rise and rise, scrubbing increasing through the city as it zones in faster than ever before.

Jimin is behind you, a quite muttering, and if you were to pause and look, you would see him on his phone. Expression intense as he barks orders to his team, every modicum of the sweet man you’d been looking at not five minutes ago completely disappeared.

“You told me I could trust you!” For a second your fingers pause in their typing, fright shooting down your spine. Up until now, you’d assumed he’d been speaking to his victims, but suddenly...your own words are coming back to haunt you. “T-told me you wanted to help! But you’re a liar! A liar!”

“S-Sir–”

“Lying little slut!” You flinch, the aggression and hate in his words cutting through you, and you swallow hard around the lump in your throat as you start to type even faster, doing your best to ignore the words he’s begun to spit at you. The landline on speaker is low, but the silence in the office could let you hear a pin drop, and you know they’re all focused on you, the air so thick with discomfort that you can almost smell it.

The system flicks through each zone, over and over, and you lean forward in your chair the closer your view gets to the point of identification. But something twists in your gut, a thick, toxicity that has bile rising in your throat, and you faintly hear Jimin murmur your name in alarm behind you.

“All I wanted was you! Don’t you get that? Just you!” The area on the map gets even closer, and you’re starting to panic, the view becoming all too familiar as it zooms in, and in again. “I’ve kept you safe for so long, I’ve watched you all this time–”

“W-what?” Your words are little more than a whisper, and Jimin says your name again a little louder, voice thick with alarm.

“I know you only needed to walk 142 steps from the station to home, but I made sure I watched!” Your hand covers your mouth for fear you may truly throw up over your desk, and you can no longer focus on your computer system, skin crawling as overwhelmed tears start to leak over your cheeks. “D-Don’t do it again–”

“Do what?!” Your voice is raised high enough in pitch that the strain hurts your throat, and even Jimin jumps a little behind you, hands hovering over your shoulders unsurely as his every instinct screams at him to rip you away from this building and hide you away forever.

“Don’t let the detective drive you home again. He can’t keep you safe like I can.”

And then the signal drops, halting your system, and leaving a complete 2,000 feet radius surrounding your apartment building frozen on your screen.

[littlegalerion]

Drama Piece

I’ve been wanting to write an updated version of this for a while!

Featuring @foxyhearts ‘ bosmer Malika, whom in many an AU is basically Trechire’s adopted daughter. 

How does one break the news that you fell in love with a Tharn? 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Zamarak said you wanted to see me? Urgently?” Malika laughed, sitting down across from her at the dining table.

Trechire composed herself, folding her hands neatly on the table before her. A pitcher of the sweetest Summerset tea was to her right, a small bowl of sugar to her left. In the distance, Hughe was still munching down on his breakfast, the Senche mount having already expressed he didn’t want to watch this disaster go down. So many servants had been sent in that morning to even set up the furnishings of Trechire’s new Rimmen home, the Hall of the Lunar Champion, but no amount of home comfort could set her at ease right now. She gazed across at the small bosmer woman, seated and kicking her legs, long ginger hair messy and bickering with her antlers. How many years had it been since Wrothgar, where they had first met, and now Malika had been always just a few steps away, a persistent shadow…

No, a daughter.

“You look refreshed,” Trechire observed, smiling weakly.

“I um, helped congratulate the queen’s first night of rule,” Malika smirked, and clicked her heels together a few times.

“Oh,” Trechire murmured. “So you and Khamira too? How does Ayrenn-”

“She’s cool,” Malika purred, shrugging. “They get me, what can I say?”

“Well…” Trechire cleared her throat, and fidgeted with the ring on her finger. “I have some news about last night too-”

“Wait!” Malika squeaked, and almost jumped onto the table. She pointed at the ring. “Is that a wedding ring?”

“Um, well, yes,” Trechire mumbled, and absent mindedly took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her cup of tea, mixing it roughly.

“Who, in the green, did you marry?” Malika exclaimed, baffled. “You weren’t dating anyone- WERE you dating someone, and I didn’t know? Who? Who?!” She huffed, crossing her arms. “I hate it when you keep important stuff like this from me! As if I can’t keep a secret.”

“It isn’t that,” Trechire assured her. “But this marriage does need to be kept secret. We both wear our rings, but no one can know, save for a selective, secretive few. One of which is you, because yes, I do trust you with a secret. Of course I do.”

“So who is it?” Malika asked again, smile widening so that Trechire could see her sharpened canines.

Again, Trechire took a spoonful of sugar and dumped it into her tea, swirling it with an iron grip on the spoon.

“He should really be here to tell you himself,” Trechire went on, her tongue feeling dry. She really should have taken a sip of the tea, but she felt like if she stopped stirring it, her heart would stop completely. Maybe that was the better option, though? “He had to continue our dragon hunting further south, but he promised he’d portal back in tonight.” She found herself smiling for a moment, despite her nerves. “He never wants to sleep in a tent again, if he can help it, and he reasoned he may only be able to use his portals for who knows how much longer at his age-”

“Mum,” Malika blurted. Her eyebrows were raised, and a look of horror was creeping over her face. “...Who did you marry?”

Trechire cleared her throat once more, and stilled her hand as best as she could, but still the spoon gently rattled against the fragile cup. “I married Abnur,” she said, and now actually tried to drink some of the tea. This was a fortunate, because Malika slammed down her fists onto the table, shaking it so terribly that the pitcher of tea toppled over and spilled onto the floor. “Let me explain.”

“You had better!” Malika hissed, looking disgusted. “Just...just EW!”

“To you,” Trechire reasoned, not daring to place the cup back on the table. “But we had been...teasing, ever since the Hall of Colossus.”

Malika stiffened. “...What the hell happened those times you two split off in a different than me when we were tracking the information down?”

“We were tracking the information down,” Trechire huffed defensively. “You honestly think I’d get frisky in a dark and smelling dungeon? With Worm cultists nearby?”

“You married Abnur Tharn,” Malika laughed sarcastically, and beat a fist against the table again. “By that logic alone I wouldn’t be surprised if you got wild on a necromancer’s alter!”

“Alright, you’re overreacting far more than what I expected,” Trechire sighed, shaking her head while still holding up her tea. “Please, understand that this doesn’t need to be awkward...”

“After what he did to Ayrenn?” Malika argued. “How do you think she’ll react to all this?”

“I..was hoping you’d keep it a secret,” Trechire sniffed. “Like how you said you could keep secrets?”

“Sure, yeah, sure,” Malika cringed, throwing her hands up in the air as she now jumped from her seat and paced around in circles. “Sure, while I’m busy spending cuddle time with my big, golden honey, I will totally keep a clear head, and not think about how somewhere, all the way across the world, my Mum is busy doing the same, but with the guy who invented and perfected the definition of asshole.”

“He’s changed,” Trechire barked, scowling. “You should be glad for that! That, maybe, is one of the few things to come out of this war for the better!”

“Fine, then let him have his little redemption fit,” Malika seethed. “But not all over you!”

“This is pointless,” Trechire grumbled, and now sat down her cup. Malika huffed and ran back to rock the table, making the cup spin until it splashed all over Trechire, then rolling off the table and smashing to pieces. “Come on!” Trechire snapped, standing to try and pat the liquid off her. “Was that really a mature way to handle this?”

Malika climbed onto the table, eyes burning with fury. “I will spill cup after cup of tea on you. Whatever it takes until you divorce his ass!”

“No,” Trechire whispered back with a still, mocking tone. She rubbed her hands together, sparking some embers on her palms and then hoovering them over her robes to dry herself.

“You’re an altmer!” Malika cried, crawling closer. “Isn’t this a doomed marriage from the start? Just save yourself the pain!”

“I am an altmer,” Trechire replied, as if talking to a toddler. “Fantastic observation! This is why it remains a secret. What Nibenay doesn’t know won’t hurt them, nor his reputation, nor mine.”

“Some marriage that is!” Malika wheezed. “You’re both ashamed of each other!”

“Not ashamed,” Trechire corrected. “Protective. We had a long discussion about this last night when he surprised me with the rings. It’s rough for us on both ends- you think I’m telling my parents? Ayrenn? Ha, you think I’m even going to tell any of the other Companions, back from the days in Coldharbor, if we ever cross paths again? No way!” She shook the heat from her hands, having done the best she could to save her robes. “The only other people I planned on telling were Khamira, Vivec, and Val.”

“What about Tharn?” Malika persisted, kicking her toe tips against the table in an irritated rhythm. “Who’s he going to tell? Not his family, oh hell no. You do realize you won’t be in the will, nor even the documented records of his family tree?”

“Not at the moment,” Trechire hummed, now using magic to reassemble her cup, so as to clean the floor of any broken glass. “But we had documents written up last night with official Imperial regulations, eccentric, signed and stamped by Abnur and then signed by Calo-” Trechire held her head, the tea cup falling apart again as she broke focus. “Oh yes, he knows as well. We needed a witness, and I couldn’t find you, so we finally came to terms with hope he would remain a secret little mouse over all this. At any rate, our marriage is official, and legally binding. We stashed them back in my Vila on Artaeum.”

“And what exactly does that even mean?” Malika huffed. “Suddenly you’re a part of the family and entitled to all his stuff, if you flash them around? No one would believe that, as long as Abnur isn’t there to reinforce it.”

“We just wanted it official,” Trechire growled, mending the cup once more. “We never plan on showing those documents to anyone, even if children come about in our future.”

“Please…” Malika hiccuped, holding her stomach. “Let’s...let’s just not even discuss that. I know how you feel about vomiting, and as much as I wanna hit you with the broad side of my bow right now, I’m not that vengeful as to get sick… So just drop that before it’s out of my control.”

Trechire rolled her eyes. “I’m over two hundred and have never bore a child. It’s a possibility. I still have my fertility.”

“Seriously,” Malika coughed, holding her gut.

“Grow up,” Trechire snapped, and placed the cup on the table, now it being her turn to pace in irritation. “I knew you’d get upset, but I expected some sort of compromise, some sort of understanding. Some sort of maturity!”

“Well, I am being mature! Because this is messed up,” Malika argued, sitting back on the table, now tensed as she unleashed either the best reasoning ever or the worst possible thing to bring up to her. “Maybe your parents have a point. Maybe you’re just not right in the head anymore, and you really have gotten desperate!”

Growing still, Trechire turned back to her, eyes wide in shock. From the other side of the room, Hughe stopped chomping, and his eyes poked out from the shadows, glittering with unseen emotion as he watched.

“I...am not  losing my mind,” Trechire spat, not moving from her position. Her words were laced with venom now, shaking Malika a bit. She’d never seen the altmer this outraged. “Funny everyone keeps suggesting that, because honestly maybe that’s why I even noticed Abnur to begin with. From the get go, twenty years ago, he never sugar coated anything for me. No, he’s treated me like the Champion of Vivec, the Vestige, like a capable mage who’s successfully thwarted daedric scheme after daedric scheme, who’s earned the respect of such titles! Yes, I’ve lost...a few loves in my time, and many, many friends…” She was trembling. “But I’m not losing my mind.”

Suddenly Malika felt a stab of guilt for even bringing it up. She remembered Vanus and Caafire’s lectures to their daughter, which they had ambushed her with for months, after the death of Laloriaran, and the final jab at Molag Bal. Not scolding, but the constant peppering and sweet talking of how “it’s alright to be sad” and “take all the time you need to grieve, nobody is judging you.” But then Malika recalled the stories Ayrenn had told her, about her time in custody within Cryodiil, under Abnur Tharn’s mercy.

“Fine,” Malika mumbled, and slowly slid off the table. “You’re not crazy, and neither am I, so I won’t tell Ayrenn.” She shrugged, looking at Trechire numbly. “But I’m not having any part of it. I won’t stop talking to you, you’re my Mum, but he’s nothing to me, and that’s how it is. Forever. Okay?”

“Okay,” Trechire replied in the same numb tone.

Malika threw a look at Hughe, and turned, walking towards the door. Neither mer called out to the other, and both shook as the door opened and slammed shut, leaving their minds to a cold, cruel silence.

[miss-eucatastrophe]

Chapter 18: Shattered

Pairing: Bucky x PlusSize!OFC/Serum!OFC (Can also be read as a Bucky X Reader fic as discriptions beyond plus size are minimal after first two-three chapters. Your name is Cassandra. You’re welcome you beautiful bitch).

Summary:Trying to integrate into “normal” life, Bucky slowly falls into a routine. Wake up, run, gaze at the woman who works in the toy store as he passes by, eat, mission, sleep, repeat. But when he goes toe to toe with a thief who threaten’s to trash his routine by becoming an obsession, will he be able to put his bizarre life back in order, or will this woman turn his 21st century world on it’s head?Yep, the Bucky/Serum!Reader story you didn’t know you wanted.

Rated: Explicit

Chapter 18

“I followed as long as I could, but the forest got too dense to see from the jet.” Natasha said apologetically when Bucky stepped off the Quinjet and back into the compound. He didn’t say anything; his jaw was tense, and every muscle was tight. The team was pretty sure that if anyone so much as looked at him funny, they were going to lose a limb.

That didn’t bother Steve. “It took me two years, Buck.” He reminded his friend.

It had taken Steve years to find Bucky, but Bucky didn’t want to wait years to find his doll. He wanted her now. Maybe he was just less patient than Steve.

“Bucky,” Natasha said cautiously, more confident to speak to him now that Steve was near.

The soldier didn’t turn to face her as he started to remove his many weapons from his person and place them on the designated artillery wall, but he did cock his head enough to show that he was listening.

“Cassandra was really badly hurt.” The movement in Bucky’s jaw was a clear indication that he was grinding his teeth.

“Thanks, Agent Obvious.” Tony chimed in, not one to let tension hang in the air. Though his sarcasm didn’t do much to ease it.

Peter gripped the top of his mask and yanked it off, letting the mixture of fabric and technology hang loosely in his fist. “Hey yeah! Maybe that’ll slow them down?” Bless Peter’s optimism.

And curse it at the same time.

Because Bucky was not receptive to it.

The male finished placing the weaponry on the wall and moved to remove the blue coat of his tactical gear, walking towards the exit. He didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment.

“That wasn’t my point,” Natasha murmured, giving the web slinging teen a look. “My point is… He’s going to realize she can’t recover like you and Steve.”

Bucky had figured as much, but it did give him pause. Pause that Tony took advantage of in order to chime in. “He’ll probably start working on his own serum. If we monitor the black markets, we may be able to track his movement.”

Steve smiled weakly, having walked beside his friend after removing his own tactical gear and weapons. “It’s a good lead, pal.”

But Bucky wasn’t looking at the bright side. He was looking at everything that could go wrong once Vasiliev realized that his doll wasn’t the perfect super soldier. Experiments—painful ones, or worse—disposal of an imperfect asset. A damaged asset was not an asset.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He moved out the door with the intention of going to his room.

He needed to lay down in the dark for a while.

In the two months since they last saw the soldier girl, Bucky had become more irritable. He didn’t hang out with Steve or Sam, he didn’t go on runs through town where memories would surface, and he worked out alone. Many heavy bags had fallen victim to his misplaced rage.

Steve rarely dared to talk to him. Bucky was too much in his own head to see reason or positivity. It was best to leave him alone and let him stew privately unless Bucky came to him. Tony avoided Bucky more than usual, Natasha gave him knowing glances but kept her mouth shut, Sam wouldn’t risk poking fun at him as he was so tempted to do, Wanda didn’t root around in his head, and Peter was on the ceiling every time Bucky entered a room—not one to chance a negative interaction. Luckily Peter wasn’t in the compound so often, not with school in session. Tony tired to drill into his head that he was a kid first and a hero second, but he was as stubborn as Stark.

That’s how it went for weeks, with Bucky barely talking. It was as if he was stagnated—waiting for a lead. Anything that would bring his girl home.

Bucky sat in the living room, his feet propped up on the coffee table and his arms crossed. He stared blankly at the TV which was on at one point but had been turned off after the news was through. Bucky would always watch the news, hoping to come across her. But it was clear Vasiliev had taken her underground again.

The soldier’s sulking was interrupted by Tony’s AI, who’s voice echoed through the speakers. “Avengers, there seems to be an unidentified craft in our vicinity.” She said clearly, to which Stark responded, having been sat quietly in the kitchen. Life had to continue as normal after all.

“Are they asking for clearance?”  The AI responded quickly with, “No.”

Steve moved into the living room, a confused expression on his face as Tony spoke. “Can we get a visual?” He asked FRIDAY.

“Something is obstructing my cameras. I can’t get a clear view, Captain Rogers.” That was unusual enough for Bucky to stand up. The compound was in a restricted area, had it been a plane asking for an emergency landing, there wouldn’t be cause for alarm, even in a restricted air space. But a normal plane couldn’t disrupt Stark tech.

“Incoming projectile.” FRIDAY said rather flatly, as the three heroes looked at each other. “Projectile?” Steve murmured.

It was at that moment that both Steve and Bucky heard the whistling of an object at high speeds. As it got louder, Steve jumped forward and dove over the kitchen counter to tackle Tony to the ground while Bucky slid under the coffee table. Bucky and Steve could survive a missile, but without his suit Tony was just a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

A breakable one.

The sound of shattering glass rang in the three sets of ears, but the explosion never came. Instead something skidded across the floor, taking the shattered glass with it. Bucky and Steve poked their heads up, though Steve had one hand on Tony’s back to keep him down in the event of a delayed combustion.

But a person was standing there, suit torn and skin bleeding from the glass they’d crashed into. “Cassandra.” Steve murmured, rather dumbstruck.

Tony stood up, his brows raised. “You could’ve used the door.”

Tony’s boldness nearly earned him a bullet to the face, because in this form Cassandra was quick on the draw and lacked human hesitation.

Steve shoved Tony back to the ground in protection of Cassandra’s firing.

The woman was already swiftly leaving the room, like she knew exactly where she was going—almost robotic in her movements. Though Cassandra had never been to this compound before she was kidnapped by HYDRA.

“FRIDAY--!” Tony called.

“On it.” Came her swift reply. Tony pressed the side of his glasses so he could see from FRIDAY’S cameras.

However, each camera quickly turned black as Cassandra passed it. She shot out each one, walking with purpose and precision. She was looking for something.

“FRIDAY where is she headed?” Bucky called as he got up from the couch and retrieved a gun that he kept taped to the underside of the coffee table.

Paranoia died hard.

He had weaponry stashed everywhere through the compound. Especially after his doll was stolen from him.

“The lab. But Sargent Barnes I do not have a visual.” FRIDAY warned. Sometimes it was easy to forget that FRIDAY was an AI.

“I’ll take my chances.” He murmured, following where Cassandra had gone. If he was going to apprehend Cassandra, he was going to have to treat her like any other mission. He’d have to shut off to get his doll back.

So be it.

Cassandra made it to the lab without interference. Most of the other team members were scattered across the US on other missions. Steve had thought Bucky could benefit from a break, as could he and Tony.

So much for that.

Cassandra reached the lab door and kicked it in after several attempts, making deep dents in the metal surface and sending the lab techs scurrying for shelter. But Cassandra didn’t see them. It was like they weren’t there.

The woman scanned the room, her eyes falling on a metal containment unit with a frosted window. Tilting her head, she balled her fist and thrusted it through the glass, the shards falling around her booted feet. Her hand slipped from the broken window and in it was an IV bag of blue liquid. She smirked and stuffed it into a case that laid near one of the technician’s desk, slamming the lid shut. “Target acquired.” She murmured.

“Drop it, Doll.” She heard behind her as she gripped the handle of the metal case.

A smirk tugged at her lips and she looked over her shoulder, gun in one hand and case in the other. “You don’t give me orders, Winter Soldier.”

Bucky entered the room with his gun drawn, pointing at the object of his affection. “Drop. It.” He hissed, cocking the gun as Steve and Tony appeared in the doorway. Steve held his shield tightly and Tony had finally managed to equip his suit.

With a shield, a gun, and a blaster at the ready in front of her, the woman dropped the case and slid it to her left where it hit the below the tinted windows with a bang.

“Drop the weapon.” Steve murmured, creeping into the room in front of Tony.

The female soldier still smiled, taking a step to the side with her arms raised, but her gun still in hand.

“Cassandra…” Bucky gave a warning, aiming for her arm that held the gun, she slowly crouched, making her decent to the floor with the apparent intention of putting the gun down.

“Do you boys like catch?” She murmured.

Confusion flickered across the three males faces and she smiled.

In a blink, her left hand darted out and gripped the arm of a lab tech who’d been hiding under the desk beside her. She pulled the girl into her arms and pressed her gun to her temple. The girl’s bottom lip quivered, and she looked at the heroes with pleading eyes but otherwise did not dare to move.

Poor thing. This probably wasn’t in her job description.

Cassandra backed up to the wall behind her where another set of windows littered the surface. She thrusted her shoulder back, knocking the window out of its frame and sending the sheet of glass downward towards the unforgiving concrete.

“Let’s play.” Cassandra whispered, gripping the girl by the back of her lab coat before turning on her heels and tossing the woman out of the window. She screamed, and Tony instantly took off after the girl, in a race to catch her before she went skidding across the compound.

Ducking down as Tony flew over her, Cassandra removed a metal ball from her belt and threw it at the Captain who thought better than to simply deflect it.

While the grenade she’d thrown was in mid-flight, she lunged to the wall to her left where she’d tossed the case and scooped it up as she tucked herself into a ball and jumped through the glass.

As Steve threw the bomb down the hallway, he threw his shield on top of it and then threw himself on top of the shield, minimizing the damage of the blast. Though the pressure of the combustion set him flying into the hall ceiling.

The distractions worked well enough, but Bucky was already on Cassandra’s tail, jumping out the window behind her and landing on the concrete below with a thump. The girl looked over at the former Winter Soldier and smirked, as she straddled a parked motorcycle and took off down the path that led to the city. Whoever thought it was a good idea to leave their keys with their bike was going to learn a hard lesson.

Bucky didn’t waste time looking back to see if Steve had handled the bomb or if Tony had caught the girl, he had one focus—and that focus was getting away again.

Unwilling to lose her a third time, Bucky ran to his own motorcycle and gave chase, gun still in hand.

He caught up with her quickly and aimed at her back tire, trying to shoot it out from under her. The bullet embedded itself into the metal rim, alerting the woman to his pursuit. She looked over her shoulder and scowled, pointing her gun back at the soldier and firing. Bucky raised his metal arm to guard his face and the bullet left sparks where it hit the surface.

In frustration, she fired again, but the gun gave an empty click that made her growl. She tossed the useless weapon away and settled for outrunning the soldier, moving her motorcycle erratically to avoid any stray bullets from her pursuer.

Bucky couldn’t get a clear shot when she drove like that—and he wasn’t willing to chance a fatal shot.

Cassandra was not about to lead the Soldier to her rendezvous point. So, when the city came into view—she headed into it.

“Damn.” Bucky hissed. Of course, a brain washed super soldier would be more than willing to place innocent lives in danger. He knew he shouldn’t follow her—there would be too many civilians.

He knew he shouldn’t.

He was going to anyway.

Without his communicator to call for back up, he was on his own in his pursuit—and Cassandra wasn’t making it easy for him.

The woman weaved in and out of traffic, trying to lose the soldier in a sea of cars and confusion. It was when the woman had the moxie to drive the bike up on the sidewalk through a crowd of people who barely managed to avoid her, that Bucky knew just chasing her wouldn’t be enough. If she was getting ballsy, he would have to too.

As they started down a less populated road, Bucky’s eyes darted to a tow truck off to the side with its’ ramp lowered, as if it was about to load a car.

Bucky swerved, riving his engine and taking the ramp as a launching point. He road up the ramp and gave the engine another rive as he picked up speed, propelling himself into the air. While in the air, the man dismounted the bike and let it fall without him, timing his decent to land on the back of Cassandra’s motor cycle as she zoomed by.

Cassandra didn’t even have time to turn her head before Bucky had thrown her from the bike. The girl went flying through the air, stopped only by crashing into a gas tanker that had halted at a red light.

As Cassandra hit the tank the metal flexed under her, causing her to indent the surface before she fell to the ground, barely catching herself on her feet as the two motorcycles went rolling down the street and crashed into a series of parked cars.

In the distance, the sounds of panicked people and speeding cars could be heard—all people trying to abandon the super soldier battle. The man driving the gas tanker jumped out of the driver seat and made a break for it with several other civilians from the side walk.

New Yorkers were pre-conditioned to run from super battles.

They’d seen their fair share at this point.

The female soldier shook her head to clear it just as a hand latched around her neck and pinned her back against the metal tank.

She coughed and kicked out, pressing both of her feet against the male’s chest and pushing him away from her, his hand releasing her neck.

Bucky stumbled backwards, but quickly regained his footing and lunged at the girl. He latched his arms around her and threw her into the clearing made by fleeting cars and people. It was their own privet ring, with only a few spectators daring a glance from the security of the shop windows they hid in.

Bucky managed to pin the girl down, his gun pressed roughly under her chin. “Stay. Down.”

He growled, she froze but there wasn’t fear in her eyes. An asset didn’t fear death. Their one drive was to complete their mission. She looked up at him, looking into his blue eyes as if searching for something.

She must have found it, because she smirked and pushed his wrist upward, sending the gun tumbling across the hard asphalt. Cassandra bucked her hips, dislodging her legs from under him so she could flip to her side and press her boot to his stomach, kicking him up and back.

Bucky got to his feet quickly as Cassandra remained in a crouch, like a lioness ready to pounce.

But she didn’t pounce. In a rapid movement she picked up a manhole cover beside her and in a flawless impression of Captain America, threw it in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky ducked just before the heavy projectile could take his head off.

He stood up and took a step forward towards the girl, when a metallic groan echoed behind him. He turned his head to see the manhole snuggly buried in the surface of the tank behind him. He dove out of the way as the disk fell from the indent and sprayed gasoline over the street.

“I’ve had it with your meddling.” Cassandra hissed, taking a step forward as the gas flow trickled to a stop. “It’s over soldier.” She murmured, picking up the gun from the ground. “You didn’t even have it cocked.” She cocked the gun, after checking it for bullets and smiled. “Being an Avenger has made you soft.”

Lifting the gun, she aimed it at the soldier, who was still crouched after narrowly escaping a gas shower.

Blue eyes darted to the ground and then back up at Cassandra as he took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Doll.”

If she was confused, she didn’t show it. She didn’t care what he was apologizing for. She aimed the gun at the man’s head, her finger teasing the trigger—when Bucky suddenly dug his metal fingers into the surface of the asphalt and dragged them over it, sparks flying in every direction from the friction.

A stray spark bowed upward, landing in the puddle of gasoline beside him.

The liquid erupted into flames, following the path it made upon the stained ground like a snake, curving and weaving in the direction of the woman.

Doe eyes widened as the fire started towards her, and she quickly took a step back as the flame slithered behind her and grew in height. She dropped her gun turning on her heels to escape the fire, only to have her escape rout cut off.

When the realization dawned on her that she sat in the center of a ring of fire, she froze and fell to her knees, holding her head and squeezing her eyes shut.

Breath flew from her lips in rapid succession, her eyes snapping back open in a panic as a consciousness filled them.

Paralyzed in fear—a scream ripped through the air.

“BUCKY!”

The trembling girl didn’t have to wait long for rescue. Bucky jumped into the circle and crouched down, scooping her up and quickly removing her from harms way. He carried her bridal style far from the fire. He set her down on the sidewalk behind a car so the flames were not in her view, his flesh hand reached up to caress her face, pushing a lock of long hair from her eyes. It’d grown quite a bit during her capture.

“I’ve got you, doll.” Bucky murmured, his other hand coming up to join the other and cup Cassandra’s face, gently guiding her head back so he could look at her.

Specifically, her eyes. Though they were wild and full of fear—there was confusion and recognition there. “Are you with me, doll?”

The super soldier female looked at the blue-eyed man in front of him, blinking a few times as if she was trying to bring him into focus, she then looked around in an attempt to interpret her surroundings.

Cassandra looked back at Bucky, tears welling up in her eyes—blinking them away and letting them drip down her face. “I hurt you…” She whispered hoarsely, her voice raising a panicked octave as she started to breath heavily. “I hurt so many p--!”

Bucky cupped her cheek, thumbing the tears away and pressing his fingertip to her trembling lips. “Shh shh shh.” He murmured, trying to coax her from a panic attack as he stroked her face. “We’ll talk about that later.”

He took a trembling breath of his own, resting his forehead against hers as his fingers curled softly into her hair to stroke her head and hold her to him.

Occasionally, whimpers left her lips, but he remained there, sharing breath, basking in her presence until he felt she was calm enough— collected in her new reality enough—for him to wrap his arms around her. He held her close, more for himself than for her, and released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when she lifted her arms and embraced him, holding herself tight to his strong form.

Cassandra pressed her face into Bucky’s shoulder, silent sobs shaking her form as he rubbed her back, soothing her. “I’ve got you.” He assured her, not moving. “I’ve got you,” He turned his head to kiss her temple, his arm whirling as he held her tighter—as if someone would snatch her away at any moment. “and I’m not letting you go.”

The sound of sirens was the only thing that could get him to move at that moment.

Bucky tilted his head back to look at the girl, searching her eyes to be sure that he had his precious treasure back, and wasn’t being fooled. Each time the fire crackled not far from them, she flinched and tried to bring herself closer to Bucky—this satisfied his worry.

Standing, he took the girls hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s go home.” He murmured, the red and blue lights reflecting off his eyes as the police cars parked to check on civilians and see what had happened. A fire truck was not far behind to take care of the blaze.

Bucky didn’t feel like sticking around to explain, he also wasn’t about to let the law take his doll after just getting her back. The distant sound of a motorcycle echoed in his super human ears—Steve was on his way, which meant Tony was as well. “We’ll let Steve and Tony do damage control.”

The previously brainwashed girl blinked and looked around, her eyes occasionally meeting those of panicked civilians who remained hiding in the stores. Her heart sank. “Did I—?”

Bucky quickly interrupted her, “We’ll talk about it later.” He murmured, an air of finality in his tone. He was worried about several things. He worried if he told her everything that had happened, it would cause her more damage, he was also worried if he told her some of the things she’d done—that she’d turn herself over to the police.

And Bucky wasn’t above becoming a fugitive again just to get her out of jail.

Steve pulled onto the scene, scanning it for Bucky as he dismounted his motorcycle. When he spotted his friend, his eyes darted to Cassandra before he looked back to Bucky expectantly. As though having a silent conversation, Bucky nodded, and Steve gave a tight smile before approaching.

“Hey Cassandra.” He murmured, as casually as possible. The girl smiled weakly in response before lowering her gaze to the floor, ashamed.

Steve wanted to comfort her, but he was also aware of the urgency involved in getting her back to the compound.

“Take my bike and get her home.” Steve said softly considering he’d seen the two bikes near totaled in the street. Perhaps they were salvageable, but that was another issue for another day.

Bucky gave a hard nod and with his arm around Cassandra, protectively as well as possessively, made his way to Steve’s bike, placing her on the back and speeding back in the direction of the compound. Steve would have to find a way to get the girl out of trouble, because Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone take her again. She’d be lucky if he ever let her out of the compound, let alone his sight.

Trembling, the traumatized girl wrapped her arms around Bucky from behind in a grip that probably would have cracked a normal human’s ribs.

One of Bucky’s hands came down to cup one of the girl’s shaking hands on his stomach. “It’s okay, doll. We’re going home.”

[deepseawanderer-blog]

Because of You

Summary: Roselyn Parks was once in a loving relationship with Steve Rogers, but once things end, HYDRA takes her. Years later she’s back. Is she still the same Rose Steve once knew? Or did HYDRA turn her into something else entirely?

Warnings: Mentions of torture, cancer, heartbreak, angst, lots and lots of angst, Steve being kind of a douche, language, death, talk about death

Word Count ~ 6.4k

Authors Note: Ok, so this is my first time posting anything I’ve ever written and I’m honestly scared out of my mind. Let me know what you think, I have a few ideas about turning this into a series but I haven’t decided yet. Also, this fic kinda follows my own timeline from the Avengers universe. In it, Thanos was defeated, there was no snap, and everyone survived. Oh and this was slightly inspired by the song Missing by Evanescence (About 6 months after Loki’s attack on New York) 2012

     “Why?” I sounded so pathetic, so broken with one simple word.

     “Why? Rose, you’re joking right? You’ve completely pulled away the last six weeks. You avoid me almost entirely and you’re holding so many secrets Natasha would be impressed.” Steve ended his rant with a long sigh. “I can’t be with someone so closed off. It’s distracting me from the job I need to be doing. I can’t be worrying about you and if we’re ok when I should be focusing on missions and my teammates.”

     ‘So I was a distraction. I was a burden and putting people’s lives, Steve’s life, at stake. If I’m all of that now, there’s no way I can tell him.’ I thought to myself.

     “We need this break Roselyn.” he kneeled down so that we were face to face. I couldn’t help but flinch when he used my full name. “Look, I have another mission I have to go on, it’ll take me about a week. Take your time, there’s no reason to get everything out in one day.” He didn’t say anything else as he left, I didn’t either. There was nothing else to say. I couldn’t be a burden any longer and if I had said anything, it would have just prolonged the torture.

     I don’t know how many hours I sat at the edge of the bed. I expected to be heart broken, maybe even a little upset, but I didn’t expect to be numb. It was as if my brain was simply running on autopilot. I walked around the living space that Steve and I had shared for the last year. I picked up my favorite CD that Nat’s been begging me to borrow, I wrote down the recipe to my famous macaroni and cheese that Rhodey absolutely loves, and for Tony, I pulled out my stash of dried fruits that he would probably finish off within a day or two. “JARVIS, can you please send for a moving company to pack and have all my stuff put into storage?”

     “Yes Ms. Parks, the earliest they can manage is 9 A.M. tomorrow morning. Is that sufficient?”

     “Yes, that’ll be perfect. Thank you.” I packed a few suitcases of clothes, grabbed my miniature presents and headed to the communal kitchen. I placed everything on the center island and took a final look around. I guess everyone had been called away for this mission because there was no one here. I could feel the numbness cracking so I knew it was time to leave. I made it to my car and was able to drive away without any incidents, until my phone rang. My heart immediately jumped in my chest. ‘Was he calling to apologize? Did he think this was a mistake to break up? Does he still love me?’ These questions and a million more were running through my head. “Hello?” I finally answered shakily.

     “Hi, my name is Brenda, I’m calling from Dr. Wilson's office,” my heart sank, “is this Roselyn Parks?”

     “Yes.”

     “I’m calling to confirm your chemotherapy this Thursday at 2 o’clock. My records are showing that this will be your first treatment so we recommend not to eat anything starting from midnight the night before but to try and drink plenty of fluids. I’m sure Dr. Wilson has gone over what to expect but just in case--”

     “I--I understand, I’ll be there. Thank you.” I hadn’t meant to cut her off. I just didn’t want to hear everything all over again. I hung up the phone and everything seemed hit me, the damn completely crumbled and I finally broke down.

~*~

     “Alright Rose, that’s it for today. How are you feeling?” Dr. Wilson was a nice man. It was obvious he cared for his patients.

     “I’m doing ok, I sleep a lot and the nausea is still pretty bad, but I’ve been able to keep down some broth today. No hair loss just yet.” My lame version of a joke.

     “Well with the treatments we’ve been doing these past weeks, that might change.” He made a couple of notes while the nurse unhooked from the IV. “So we will see you again, same time next week. Are you sure there is no one we can call for you? You really shouldn’t be going through this alone.” Yes, Dr. Wilson definitely cared for his patients.

      “I’ll be fine Wilson, but thank you. My taxi should already be waiting for me.” I tried to smile but it probably looked more like a grimace. The last few weeks I’ve been living out of a suitcase in a hotel that was just a couple blocks away from the clinic but in those few weeks I hadn’t heard a thing from anyone. Steve I could understand keeping his distance, however, I at least thought Nat would call or text. It was total radio silence. They were probably busy saving the world and I didn’t want to distract them by calling and making a scene.

     I became lost in my thoughts as I climbed into the cab and rattled off the address. I was so out of it that I didn’t notice that the man driving the cab looked nothing like the man on the license. I didn’t notice him turning right instead of left, I didn’t even notice when he slipped on a gas mask and his metal hand glistened in the sun. I only noticed when a thick white smoke started seeping out of the air vents. Before I could even ask what the hell was going on, everything went black.

~*~

     My body weighed a ton. Moving was impossible, as if I was trudging through mud while trying to pull an elephant. I attempted to open my eyes but I don’t know if I succeeded or not, everything was pitch black. I could hear the squeaking of mice nearby, footsteps coming and fading away, and in the distance, if I really strained, I could hear someone screaming in agony. I really didn’t want to think about what was happening to that poor man because I knew that as soon as I started thinking about what was happening to him, I would start thinking about what they had in store for me. Whoever the hell ‘they’ were. That thought alone brought on a whole slew of questions. I was no one special, I had no money or power, I had no family to ransom, and I barely had any friends. Even my job wasn’t that exciting, I was a simple Sous Chef at a restaurant downtown, the only people who would benefit from me leaving were the ones gunning for my position and I highly doubt they’d go to these lengths to get it.

     I was alone with my thoughts for what seemed like days, but was probably only a few hours, before someone came. They threw the door open and I was immediately blinded by the bright lights. It didn’t bother me long though, they helped me out by throwing a disgusting sack over my head. A pair of hands each grabbed one of my arms and yanked me to my feet, I had no strength in my body to fight, let alone in my legs to walk, so they ended up dragging me to wherever they needed me to be. The screaming I had heard earlier was getting closer and it caused a cold sweat to break across my skin. ‘Is that where they’re taking me?’ I asked myself. Thankfully we passed the screaming man just as he stopped screaming. “The wipes complete, put him on ice until we need him again.” I heard a man order. ‘On ice? What the hell does that mean?’ I didn’t get to question it for long because I was soon lead through what I assumed to be a seperate room. I heard a door behind me slam shut and was promptly thrown on and strapped down to an ice cold, metal table. I could feel all types of electrodes being stuck to every part of my body, my blood pressure being taken, and needles poking and prodding me to set up IV drips. I could feel all of this, but for some reason I still could not find my voice to say or protest anything.

     “My Liebling, you’re behaving very well, maybe our time together does not have to be so bad, no?” his voice sent a shiver through my body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the table. Suddenly the bag was ripped from my head and I was blinded by a bright light shining directly at me. More electrodes were placed on my head as I attempted to blink away the blindness. “It is sad that we must meet on these types of situations, cancer is such a hard thing to fight and Dr. Wilson was right, you should not be doing it alone. We will be taking great care of you here, do not fret.”

     “Why,” my voice caught in my throat making me almost cough out a lung, “why am I here.” I croaked out. “What do you want with me?”

     “Sweet Liebling, did no one tell you?” He tisked. “You mean a great deal to a certain Captain and we need to be able to expose that. I believe I can make you into someone that will completely destroy him, if not physically, then mentally.” My vision was finally starting to clear up and I could finally make out my surroundings. The man talking to me had light brown hair that was neatly styled, blue eyes, and a pleasant looking face for someone so evil. The room I was in was a mix between concrete and metal, but all of it seemed to be sucking the life out of the very air. It was almost suffocating. There were other people milling around in white coats taking notes from the readings on the machines they had hooked me up to.

     “Hate to break it to you asswipe, me and the Captain broke up almost two months ago. He’s completely taken me out of his life and all of the Avenger’s lives.” I don’t know where my confidence came from, but I was going to hold onto it with everything I had while I could. “You just wasted all of this time and effort on someone that the Amazing Captain America could give zero fucks about.” I let out a nice chuckle without coughing, that’s progress in my book. However, when I took a look at the man’s face, all of my confidence drained away. He looked happy, but a sick and twisted kind of happy, a dark happy that I knew meant that horrible things were now in my future.

     “Now that is some great news Liebling.” he turned to a metal tray that was beside me and pulled up this bag that was filled with a weird blue-green looking mixture. He hung it up and fed it into one of the IV lines that was attached to me. “That tells me that I do not have to worry about killing you.” his smile seemed to grow sickenly bigger. “If you die, I will simply dump your body on his front door letting him know that this was all his fault. If you survive, you will be one of the strongest assets in our arsenal.” It was then that I felt the blue-green liquid entering my body. Everything was burning, my body was burning away from the inside out. I was boiling and melting all at once. It was the most intense pain I had ever felt and I couldn’t help the scream that ripped from me.

     I screamed for hours, they kept replacing the bags because for some reason, my body was just soaking the damn things up. People were huddled around the room taking notes and keeping track of my vitals but I didn’t care, I just wanted the pain to stop. I had almost passed out from the pain during the second bag but they quickly shot me up with something horrible to keep me conscious. The sick bastards wanted me awake and aware of everything that they would be doing to me. “Now I want you to remember, through all of this, everything you will go through while you are with us,” the sick man playing doctor sneered at me, “it is all Captain America’s fault.”

    After the 5th bag they decided they were done flooding my body with that poison and dumped me in a new room. This one was blindingly white, it reminded me of one of those rooms where they throw crazy people at insane asylums, except this one had an entire wall that was glass and none of the padding. These “doctors” wanted to be able to see what their poison would do to me. There was no bed so I made no effort to move from where they had thrown me, my body was still burning from the inside out but something else was happening. I couldn’t tell what it was, but something inside me was changing. I wasn’t necessarily feeling stronger or smarter. It was more like I felt deadly, no that’s not right either, I felt like death, as if I was turning into Death itself.

     ‘I am a burden,’ I thought to myself, ‘Steve was right. I am a burden and a distraction. I couldn’t even keep myself from getting kidnapped. I isolated myself and made it easy for them. I should’ve known better. Our relationship wasn’t secret by any means, I should’ve known that even with it over I would still be a target. Nat and them have to know I was taken by now and they’re going to save me and prove everything Steve said. The Doctor is wrong, it’s not Steve’s fault. It’s mine. I should’ve been stronger, I should’ve taken those self defense lessons Clint offered, I should’ve made myself better so that he wouldn’t have to worry about me. I should’ve been better at acting like everything was ok. I should’ve been better. He was right, I am a burden. I am a distraction.’

     I felt something building up in my chest, something big. I took a deep breath and released everything that had been going on for the last few months, my diagnosis, the break-up, the chemo and radiation, and all this torture. I let it all out with  a scream that pulled my already strained vocal cords. As I screamed, a pulse of power shot out of me turning my once pristine, white room into a rusted wasteland, the crystal clear glass was yellowed with age and covered in spider-web cracks, the doctors behind the glass were on the floor, horrible blisters and sores covering their skin. I passed out staring into their dead, bloodshot eyes, and a smile on my face.

♛

(About three years after Infinity War where Thanos was defeated and no one died) 2021

Please, please forgive me,

But I won’t be home again,

Maybe someday you’ll have woke up,

And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one;

“Isn’t something missing?”

     The music was barely a whisper in my headphones but I could hear it perfectly. I could hear everything, even with all the people crammed into the open courtyard. If I wanted to, I could listen in on any conversation that was happening in a two mile radius, but that would have to wait. There was only one conversation I was interested in eavesdropping on and it was between the two super soldiers standing up on the center stage waiting for this farce of a “peace treaty” to begin. “Come on punk, why do I have to be here? The world still views me as an evil assassin, I’m the last one that should be at a peace signing.”

     “Buck, we’ve been over this, ever since Thanos, the world has realized that everyone needs to set aside their differences and work together to keep Earth safe. You are a perfect example of that, plus, you are a part of the team and we’ve all been invited to attend. Also, if I have to stand up here and do this, you bet your ass you do too.” he finished with a light laugh and big smile on his face.

You won’t cry for my absence, I know

You forgot me long ago.

Am I that unimportant?

Am I so insignificant?

Isn’t something missing?

Isn’t someone missing me?

     A red faced dignitary walked up to the podium, signalling the start of the conference and the crowd began to calm down. I turned my music off and started walking towards one of the many exits, getting into position. This courtyard was actually a horrible place to be hosting a signing, too much exposure, too open. The stage for all the foreign dignitaries and the Avengers had no protection from the crowd. Sure, the courtyard was in the middle of a castle-like building, but there were too many windows to be covered. The security was a joke; they barely had a metal detector. It was child’s play to get everyone inside, if anything, these foreign dignitaries deserved what was about to happen. Just because it’s a peace treaty, doesn’t mean everyone is going to be ‘peaceful’.

     I waited until he was a few minutes into his speech about finally taking the first steps towards world peace before I pulled the mirror out of my pocket and flashed it to the roof behind the stage. My men started making a small comotion, drawing the attention of everyone on stage. Everyone except for Sergeant Barnes, he had been looking my direction since I signaled with the mirror. He nudged Captain America to help him scan the area. The commotion was getting louder. The Avengers were starting to draw their weapons and herd the dignitaries to safety inside the walls. I signaled with the mirror again. Sergeant Barnes’ eyes immediately zeroed in on me as well as Captain America’s. ‘Good,’ I thought to myself, ‘he needs to see that this is all his fault.’ I kept my eyes locked with his as I descretley pulled out my handgun from my purse. I could see the gears turning in his head, he knew me somehow. Right then a shot rang out from the other side of the courtyard, people immediately dropped to the floor and screamed. Sergeant Barnes and Captain America whipped around to face where the shots came from, leaving me a perfect shot. I raised my gun and took aim. “Oh Captain, I’m disappointed,” I spoke normally but I know he heard me, his back stiffened and he turned to face me, “I thought someone would have taught you to never turn your back on a threat.” His eyes widened at the sight of the gun but it was too late, I squeezed the trigger and braced for the minimal kick back. Captain America reacted by bringing up his shield to protect his chest and head but it did no good, I wasn’t aiming that high. Yelling out in pain, he hit the floor grabbing his leg. Blood was already beginning to pool around his knee where the bullet had shattered. He would heal eventually, but until then he’d be in a lot of pain and he’ll be in even more when they have to open the wound back up to try and dig out all the shards of the hollow point bullet.

     I was able to slip out just as easily as I had slipped in, all it took was some fake tears and pretending to hyperventilate and security waved me through with the rest of the crowd. I was able to branch away and sneak down a hallway towards the room they had huddled all the dignitaries into. There was one last thing I had to do before I could leave. There were no guards outside the stupidly open door but the Falcon had placed one of his drones right above it. Lucky for me, I had full view of my intended target. The red faced dignitary from the opening speech was looking a little more worse for wear. He was about the shade of a tomato, a few boils and blisters were starting to cover his face and hands, sweat was drenching his clothing, and his eyes were starting to turn a little yellow. But though the outward physical symptoms were great, there was one I had to zero in on, I strained my hearing and listened closely, blocking out every noise around me until I found the one I was looking for. It was the stuttering and faltering heartbeat of the dignitary that brought a smile to my face and confirmed that today was a success. By the time the medics made it to him, he was long dead and I was in my car speeding away with my music blasting and happily singing along.

Even though I’m the sacrifice,

You won’t try for me, not now.

Though I’d die to know you love me,

I’m all alone.

Isn’t someone missing me.

~*~

     “I want a full break down of what the hell happened today. How did so many hostiles manage to get in without so much as a blimp on the security? Tony! What good are your scanners if they can’t even pick up hand guns?” Bucky was barking out as they rushed Steve’s gurney into the med wing.

     “Buck, calm down.” Steve managed to groan out. “I’m fine, everyone is fine.”

     “Not everyone Cap,” Natasha matched Bucky’s long strides, “Ambassador Berkley is dead, official ruling is a stroke.”

     “And the non-official?” he asked. His stomach dropped slightly at the thought of someone dying on his watch.

     “Poison. They’re running a tox screen now to figure out exactly what type but it may take a day or two.”

     “Perfect,” Bucky cut in, “the punk here can use that time to explain to me how he knew the broad that literally blew out his knee.” Much to Steve’s relief, Dr. Cho came through the doors right as Bucky was crossing his arms, expecting an answer, and shooed them all away so that they could work on getting all the shrapnel out.

     The procedure was only two hours but Steve was in hell the entire time. His body kept burning through any sedative they gave him, no matter how strong they made it. Dr. Cho didn’t want to risk an overdose, so Steve insisted on continuing without one. So when the screaming finally stopped, nothing was going to keep Bucky out of that hospital room. Steve had been there for him countless times, it was Bucky’s turn to be there for him. He just had to get some answers first.

     “I thought I was supposed to be the heartbreaker punk. You were supposed to be America’s ‘Golden Boy’.” Steve tried to bury himself further into the bed in hopes of disappearing. “Yet here you are, broke some gal’s heart so bad that she put a bullet through your knee.” When he didn’t get any response Bucky sighed and sat at the edge of the bed. “Just give me a name to start with. We need to know who she is and what kind of contacts she has to be able to pull something like this off.”

     “She wouldn’t do this Buck. She was a simple chef, we never even should have--”

     “I don’t need the whole story yet, we can do that later. Right now I just need her name.”

     “Roselyn Marie Parks.” Steve answered in a defeated sigh. “But I swear to you Buck, you’re not going to find anything.”

     “I know you have more experience with it, but I wouldn’t count FRIDAY out just yet.” They settled into a somewhat comfortable silence, at least on Bucky’s end. He was reading an old book, the pages worn from use, the corners dog eared over and over again, simply enjoying the quiet. Steve on the other hand, he was lost. Lost in his own whirlwind of thoughts. What was she doing there? Was she really with that group of thugs? She had hated guns and yet shot him without hesitation. What had happened to change all that? Could the breakup really be what made her dark? He didn’t think it was possible, there was no way someone as innocent as Rose could’ve gone dark with just a breakup.

     “Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Ms. Romanoff has requested your immediate presence at the labs.” FRIDAY interrupted the silence, startling Steve and Bucky so much that he dropped his book.

     “Jeeze FRIDAY, med wing is supposed to be quiet. You’re going to give someone a heart attack.” Bucky grumbled. “Steve can’t go anywhere, he just had surgery. If Natasha wants us, she can come up.”

     “Barnes, Captain,” Nat almost sneered his title, “if you don’t come down here, I will drag you down myself.” it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

     “Nat, come on, Steve just--”

     “Barnes, the Captain is going to come down here. If his leg is still an issue I’d be happy to cut it off for him.” her tone made no room for arguments. Whatever she needed them for was big and Steve had a rotten feeling in his gut he knew exactly what it was about.

     They made it down to the labs with minimal hardships. Steve was only slightly limping because he absolutely refused to use the cane Bucky and Dr. Cho handed him. Part of it was Sam and Clint would never let him hear the end of it if they saw him walking around with a cane and the other part of it was because he walked slower without the cane and he wanted to do everything in his power to  stall what he knew was about to happen. As they turned the corner and the labs came into view, Steve’s heart hit the floor. Their looks said it all, they knew. Tony was almost red with fury and Nat was trying to hide her pain through a mask of rage, but the hurt was easily seen in her eyes. The others looked on, confused to why they were so upset. Tony pointed to a chair that was situated in front of everyone and a bunch of screens. Rose’s smiling face was plastered everywhere. Her hazel eyes shining with glee as she was captured mid laugh, her wavy chocolate hair was thrown in a messy bun and her face had speckles of flour everywhere. Steve remembered that day, she had tried to teach him how to bake and it had somehow turned into a miniature food fight. They had made a huge mess, but the cookies they had made were some of the best ones he had ever had. “Let’s get everyone on the same page here Cap.” Tony finally spoke. “How do you know our shooter, Roselyn Parks?”

     “We dated. We were together for almost two years. She had just finished moving in with me when New York happened. After a few months she started pulling away from me so I broke it off. I haven’t seen her since. Not until the assembly. But you all have to understand--” Tony cut him off.

     “Tell Nat why she wasn’t able to contact Rose. Tell me why none of us were able to at least call her and make sure she was ok. She wasn’t actually ignoring any of the calls or messages, was she?” he felt Bucky stiffen up behind him, probably not liking the way Tony was interrogating him right now but he deserved their hostility.

     “No, I had JARVIS reroute all incoming and outgoing messages. She never knew. I had thought it would be easier for her if we were all out of her life for good.” he was barely speaking above a whisper, after all this time he was finally able to see how stupid that had been. “JARVIS would alert me whenever she would call. I never had the nerve to listen to the voicemails.”

     “You still have them?” Nat was beyond shocked. What kind of spy was she if she never questioned Rose’s sudden disappearance. She had thought they were friends. She thought that Rose was actively trying to avoid them. She should have tried harder to talk to her. At Nat’s question, Steve nodded and dropped his head. Yes, he had kept all the voicemails, emails, text messages, everything she had tried to contact them was tucked away in a flash drive hidden in his room.

      “We’ll get to that in a minute Cap, right now let’s do a little reading exercise shall we? I’m going to bring up a page and you’re going to read it. Every. Single. Word.” Tony didn’t wait for a response, instead he brought up a couple documents on one of the screens and expanded it so that everyone could see it. “Go ahead Cap, tell us what you see.”

      “The first one is a general bio about Rose. Born July 20th, 1989. Lived in Texas, California, Arizona, Florida, and New York. Job history, every kitchen she’s worked at.”

     “Keep going.”

     “The next page is…” his heart shattered, “No, this can’t be right.” Steve looked around the room. This had to be a joke of some kind. A cruel and horrible joke. “It’s a missing persons report? But that’s not right, this was filed around two months after the break up. I was still getting notified about calls years after that.”

     “I said, keep going.” Tony’s voice was harsh and unforgiving. Steve paled and choked on his words when he saw the next page.

     “She was presumed dead?” Bucky asked instead. “What the hell’s goin on? Steve said he was getting calls years afterwards. How is that possible?”

     “I’m going to ignore that question based on the soul fact that we have two people in this room that were presumed dead for 70 years and are still alive and kicking. One of ‘em may not be for much longer though. Instead I’m going to ask you to focus on a certain name. Look who filed the missing person’s report and signed her death certificate.” Two boxes on the screens highlighted the area Tony was talking about and zoomed in on them. “A Dr. James Wilson. Do you know Dr. Wilson Cap? Do you know what he specializes in? No? He’s an oncologist. She had cancer, a brain tumor actually.” he waved his hands around the screen and a bunch of medical files popped up. “She had been seeing him for about 4 months before she was reported missing. Doc said there was no way she’d survive 6 months without treatment so when she stopped showing up for appointments, he knew something was wrong. He knew. A stranger knew something was wrong. But her friends? Her supposed friends that could have actually done something to help her? We had no damn clue.” His eyes were beginning to water.

     “Boss, the decryptions and translations are completed.” FRIDAY’s announcement stopped Tony from continuing.

     “Bring it all up.” He turned to Steve. “FRIDAY found some files talking about Rose, files from HYDRA.” Bucky visibly stiffened at the name. It had been years since he’d been under their control, but the nightmares and scars from what they did would never go away.

      “They wanted to use her to destroy Steve.” Nat grabbed a tablet and started going through all the information. “They figured he wouldn’t be able to fight against the woman he loved. Once they learned about the break up they went a different route.” She swiped around, none of the pictures were of her. They were all of dead bodies, bodies covered in lumps and sores, eyes bloodshot, and faces frozen in terror. “These people look exactly like Ambassador Berkley when he was pronounced. Rose did all of this?” What had they done to her? She continued to swipe through the information.  “They have videos.” her hand froze above the tablet. Did they want to see what they did to her? Could they handle it? Tony didn’t wait for an invitation, he brought up the first clip and played it. It showed Rose in a rusted over, metal looking cell. Her ankle was shackled to the wall, there was a dingy mattress on the floor, a bucket in the opposite corner, and her and her clothes were covered in cuts and dirt. A man walked into the room, handed Rose a cell phone, careful not to touch her, and walked back out. Rose looked dumbfounded at the phone. She repeatedly looked between the phone, the door, and back. After a few seconds she quickly unlocked the phone and brought it up to her ear. The look on her face was pure hope, at least it was for a few seconds.

     “S-Steve, it’s me.” her voice was almost a whisper and sounded so broken. “I don’t know what happened, but HYDRA got to me. You have to listen to me when I say this, don’t come and get me. I don’t know what they’re playing at, they gave me my phone back and just walked away. It has to be a trap. Please, don’t do anything stupid, I’m not worth it.” At this point she was crying. “You were right, I was a distraction, I should’ve been better. I’ll be ok though, I know I won’t last long in here, I never had much time to begin with. Take care of yourself ok? Tell Nat to let Clint win a spar every now and again and tell Rhodey that he better not share my recipe with anyone ok? And talk to Tony, he’s struggling, I know he is. He’s just acting like he’s fine but please try and talk to him. Goodbye.” As soon as she hung up the phone, the door burst open and four men rushed in. One took the phone away, two pinned her down, and the last one secured her hands in a metal box before unlocking her ankle. They dragged her out kicking and screaming.

     The video cut out and the room was surrounded in silence. Sam was about to tell Tony to stop, there was no need to see all the videos, it would just torture them, but Nat played the next one before he could even finish his thought. It started the same way as the first one, the only difference was that Rose’s hair was a few inches longer. They couldn’t get a good look at her face though and were slightly thankful for that. “Steve.” her voice was strained this time, as if she had been screaming. “I don’t know why they keep making me do this. I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t want to be here, the things they’re making me do, the things they’re doing to me…” she took the phone away from her for a second, took a deep breath, and continued on, “I want to be selfish and ask you to come save me but I won’t. Stay away from here, wherever here is, but don’t come. Don’t send the team. Don’t put anyone in danger trying to get me out. I won’t last much longer, I know it. Hopefully this  is actually goodbye this time.”

      This time it was Rhodes who played the next video. “What did I do wrong Steve? What did I do to deserve this? You’ve abandoned me and I want to know why!” Rose was crying and screaming in hysterics. “Please get me out, please, please. I can’t take this anymore. I wasn’t supposed to still be alive. They did something to me. I was supposed to be dead by now. Please Steve, I can’t do it anymore. Please.” she was so broken. When the men came to drag her away, she didn’t put up a fight at all.

      The next video played. “You fucking asshole! This is all your fault! How could you think-No, screw that. You didn’t! You don’t think about anyone besides yourself and your fucking Avenging bullshit. I’m in here being tortured on a daily basis, experimented on all damn day, being turned into who knows what and you’re fucking ignoring my pleas for help!” Rose took the phone and threw it against one of the cell walls. When the doors slammed open, she let loose a rage filled yell and shoved her hand into the face of the first man through the door. Smoke immediately started raising from the contact, his face started breaking out in sores, and within a few seconds he dropped to the floor, most likely dead, his bloodshot eyes and face were frozen in terror. Before she could get her hands on one of the other guards, she was hit with a cattle prod, effectively electrocuting her and incapacitated her long enough to get her hands back in the metal box and dragged out of the room.

     “No more, please don’t make me watch anymore.” Steve hadn’t even tried to keep the tears back once the first video started playing. He could only pray that they would take some type of mercy on him and not play anymore. Sam took the tablet from Nat, she was too shell shocked to put up a fight. He swiped through the videos and landed on the last one.

     “I know why they’ve been forcing me to make these calls.” her voice was even, cold, calculated. “Did you know that my phone has been on this entire time? GPS enabled and everything. You could’ve found me the second they took me. But you didn’t, they were right. They said no one cared about me, no one would notice I was gone, no one would miss me. They’ve been trying to break me for two years now, I don’t know how I held out this long.” there was a long stretch of silence. “I killed 8 people today. I didn’t even have to touch them. I wish I could say that I feel some kind of remorse but I don’t feel much of anything anymore. I know I’ve said this before, but now I mean it, this will be my final goodbye. They don’t need to prove their point anymore. I’m forgotten, alone. They finally won.” Rose hung up the phone and held it out towards the door. This time only one man came in, he gingerly took the phone and motioned her towards the door. With a defeated sigh, she walked through them willingly.

♛