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aspenforest732 · 5 months

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Mortem ad Wrens Chapter 15: Our Brothers Must Bear

Summary:

tw: mention of bullying, gang relations (positive), drug use mention, addiction first patrol starts a little early

Notes:

‘text’ JSL Text thoughts

Akira leapt to their feet, snatching their journal, suddenly very aware of where their decoded notes were. Of where they were. Glancing out the window, Akira quickly confirmed that the nearest roof was close enough to warp if they needed to.

The door burst open as one of the monitors called out “Sir, there’s a bank robbery in progress at…” the man stopped as he took in the room. “I can send the backup evening patrol if you need-”

“No, we can go,” Fat Gum interrupted. After the man gave the address and left, he continued, “We’ll discuss this later.”

Torn between Aizawa being called and potentially carrying out the threat of expulsion and going on a mission when their teammates knew, Akira forced themself to nod and their feet to start moving as the trio rushed out of the agency. The early evening sun painted beautiful hues of red and purple across the sky as Akira ached to run along the rooftops. The group slowed as they approached the police barriers, and Fat Gum asked the situation.

“Thanks for starting a little early tonight,” a detective with colorful freckles said. “We’ve got two quirked individuals confirmed inside with twenty hostages. One of the tellers is following orders a little too exactly, so we suspect one of them has a Master quirk. The other’s quirk is unknown. Good to see you again, Suneater, and is this your new intern, Fat Gum?”

Mortis nodded, fighting to keep their face neutral. ‘I’m Umbra Mortis,’ they signed, Fat Gum interpreting.

The detective looked a little confused but shrugged. “Well, let us know if you need anything from us or want to talk with the perps.”

As the detective walked away, Mortis signed to Fat Gum, ‘Isn’t it possible that the second is under the villain’s control as well? I can try to get a higher angle to see their face, or I can warp in. I’ll have ten minutes of invisibility.’

“Try the higher ground first but be careful. If you can’t get a good look, come back here and we’ll discuss options.”

As they warped to the top of a lamp post, Mortis focused on their mindscape and noticed a new shadow next to them. Interesting… later. Mortis carefully crouched on the post’s thin head before leaping to the next one, testing their braces’ boost to cover the lack of momentum. There was a whisper of a whirring noise, but it shouldn’t be audible from more than half a meter away.

After jumping around a few spots, Mortis finally got a decent look at the second assailant’s face. With only the bottom half clumsily covered by a mask, Mortis took in the person’s face and posture and deemed them likely under the other’s control. Too-relaxed shoulders, blank eyes with an underlying tension, and gun in a death grip.

Ten minutes nearly up, Mortis softly made their way back to Fat Gum and stepped into their clone from behind. ‘The one with the hostages is most likely under the other’s control,’ Mortis signed. ‘His body language and eyes gave it away.’

“Do you think the control is weak enough to break with an emotional shock or blunt force?”

‘Unknown, although the victim is straining against the control so it’s possible the villain needs the appropriate distraction.’

Fat Gum nodded, and Suneater activated one clam and one octopus arm, what seemed like his usual shtick. “Stay behind us,” Fat Gum said. “I’d feel better if you were invisible, but don’t strain your quirk too much. Only engage if necessary.”

Mortis nodded, leaning up against a building before warping behind them and putting a hand on Suneater’s back. They paused briefly in curiosity as the constant burn they usually felt was still the moderate discomfort it had been since lunch. It did flare a bit with their active quirk use, but not nearly as much as what had become their norm. With his acknowledgement, the trio headed for the front entrance, and Mortis waited a moment before warping in through a window, dispelling their clone with the step’s motion. They’d still technically be behind the pair but in a better position to help if needed.

As Fat Gum rushed the first victim, Suneater extended his tentacles out to grab hold of the mind controller, only for him to freeze moments before he touched the man. Looking between the two, Mortis noticed that Suneater had met his eyes. Darting forward, they ducked behind one of the pillars before warping closer to the villain. Keeping their eyes around the man’s midsection, Mortis darted to the side and shoved him hard as a knife sliced at their costume. He stumbled, and the first victim started to slowly come to awareness, dropping their gun in the process.

Dancing back, Mortis saw Fat Gum directing the victims out the door while lightly shaking Suneater, who remained unresponsive. Mortis activated their capture scarf and snapped it out to coil around the villain, slamming him to the floor on his back. As the wind was knocked out of the villain, Suneater blinked back into focus along with the teller, and Mortis maneuvered the scarf to keep tension while leaving their shoulders, making it visible, before walking over to dispel their clone.

Fat Gum raised an eyebrow at the floating capture scarf, and Mortis acknowledged with a dip of their head that he knew they were keeping the villain occupied. ‘I wasn’t sure if he’d have control of quirks and him potentially controlling Sun Eater’s was quite dangerous, so checking the physical disruption theory seemed logical.’ Recoiling their end of the capture weapon, Mortis set the villain on his feet and covered his eyes with his own mask before maneuvering him to Fat Gum. ‘His quirk might be initiated on eye contact, and he either dropped his first victim by default or the connection was more tenuous due to being active for longer.’

“He also either can’t control quirks by proxy or was unsure how mine worked,” Suneater added. After Fat Gum checked them over for injuries, the trio made their way outside and handed off the villain to the police. They gave statements and filed capture reports before finally starting patrol now that it was 18:45.

“Most situations won’t put the burden of a judgment call on you,” Fat Gum explained while eating from a tray of yakitori. “Unless I specifically give you the choice as I did back there, remember to wait for my instruction to engage. Self-defense is permitted, but paperwork gets complicated when students use quirks without a license.”

Mortis nodded, munching on a few of the treats even though they weren’t hungry for once – usually a warning sign, now a sense of security. ‘May I ask a question about your quirk, Fat Gum?’

“Sure, kid,” he beamed.

‘Are you always hungry or do you constantly eat to keep your optimal percentage?’

Fat Gum laughed and Mortis cast a worried glance at Suneater, who just tucked into himself. “Most people don’t think to ask about the difference. I only get hungry when I’m running low on body fat and after patrols, so I eat to make sure I don’t lose ground. And you?”

Mortis shrugged, ‘I’ve always been hungry since I got my quirk. The only times I’m not are when I’m reaching the bad end of starvation mode, sometimes when people make comments about how much I eat, and since I ate lunch today.’

The heroes frowned, and Suneater said, “What do which people say?”

‘Mostly students from other classes, some random people, and Rich- one of the girls in my class. And they don’t say much, just comments about weight gain and not thinking about others with how much food I take.’ Mortis noticed their right hand starting to reach for their left so moved it beneath their costume to ground themself with the tassels instead.

Fat Gum stopped, rounding in front of them and kneeling to get on eye level. “Umbra Mortis, you have a good, brave heart and deserve so much more than the basic necessities.” At Mortis’s hesitation, he slowly put a hand on their shoulder, riding out the flinch. “You do. You’ve been dealt one of the worst hands in life, and I’m here to bring some good into it.”

After a moment, Mortis realized Fat Gum was waiting for a response and nodded, signing 'thank you' as they looked away.

As the large hero got up, Suneater asked, “Did the visualization help?”

Mortis grinned, pushing aside their confusing tangle of emotions for the time being. ‘I think so! I noticed something as I was warping, although I didn’t want to focus on it while there was an active hostage situation.’

Fat Gum grinned. “That’s great! And good judgment call, I know discovering something about your quirk can be a little distracting.”

Suneater offered a shy smile before hiding back in his scarf. They continued patrol for a few hours, busting a couple petty criminals, when Fat Gum got an alert on the Hero Network.

“Gang dispute,” Fat Gum sighed as he started sprinting in that direction. Suneater and Mortis quickly followed suit, the latter quickly getting frustrated at the sheer number of people who almost stepped into them. “Umbra Mortis, take the rooftops if you’re more comfortable, but stay close.”

Immediately, they did so as Suneater elbowed them to dispel the clone. Almost flying across the gaps, Mortis had to hold back to stay even with the grounded pair. They still arrived on scene a few seconds faster and observed the rising tension before warping back down next to Fat Gum and Suneater, dispelling their clone with some pocket sand.

‘No shots fired yet, but multiple Changer and Brute quirks active. 10 versus 8 over border dispute. Jets versus Sharks.’ Mortis quickly informed them.

“Leaders or lieutenants?”

‘One lieutenant on each side, quirks don’t have a visual component or aren’t currently active.’

Holding up a hand for Mortis and Suneater to stay back a pace, Fat Gum walked up to the entrance of the alley and sighed. “Haya, Hikaru, I thought it might be you two.” The closer lieutenant whipped around to face the hero, both faces flushing in… embarrassment?

What the hell? Akira looked to Suneater, who seemed done with the situation but still held a little tension.

Fat Gum put on a disappointed dad face as he continued, “This is the Jets’ week to protect blocks 14-16. If you need help remembering who’s supposed to protect this section when, just ask anyone from my agency. If someone got hurt, you know I’d have to report it, and remember your families for kami sake.”

Both lieutenants wilted and grumbled an acknowledgment, a few members looking confused as they dispersed.

‘You… work with gangs?’ Akira asked hesitantly.

“It’s more of a recent development, but as long as they provide proof of weaning people off drugs and sending them to hospitals when they can’t provide the needed help, I’m willing to work with them. They protect their own, and it didn’t take much for them to see the community as part of ‘their own.’ They also help report FQM and other dangerous activities from outside groups.”

Akira nodded, glancing at Suneater, who had a pensive but curious look on his face.

“You’re not concerned about that?” the boy asked.

‘You know what I come from, and you know what school I go to. How do you think I survived long enough on the streets to get in?’ As Fat Gum went to speak, they added. ‘It’s a good group, we protect our kids. We have a little more drugs going on than this situation, but none of the minors have access to them. I just wasn’t expecting a twilight to be so open about working with gangs. Usually that falls into more of an underground’s purview.’

“Has Eraser Head not taken you in? I know he’s helped vigilantes find placements in good homes before,” Fat Gum looked at them confused.

‘I don’t want to be more of a burden. I tried living with the partner and rehoming systems my group has, but I’m too expensive for most of them and bring too many risks for the others.’ Akira shrugged. ‘Eventually, I found it best to just live on my own.’

Suneater sharply sucked in a breath, “You were reworking your budget.”

Akira cringed but nodded. ‘Can’t get a legal, much less stable, job with just a P.O. box, and to get more of an address, I need a stable income or savings.’

“And U.A.’s assistance programs require an address and a guardian to sign,” Suneater murmured. Fat Gum looked perturbed, starting to say something before shaking his head.

The rest of patrol passed largely without incident, the trio only stopping a couple petty thieves and helping someone the older two seemed to know back to rehab. Akira tried to put thoughts of the Wrens out of their mind, but the nagging worry of now two people knowing the key to their past wore down the edges of their nerves as they grew jumpier than usual.

Notes:

Fun fact: based on how tall Kirishima is in comparison to Fat Gum, Akira at most comes up to his waist. I also googled Japanese street widths to determine that, especially since the opposing roof seems relatively close in the anime, the street size including sidewalks is at most 60 ft. I feel a little silly lol I decided to do that little collection of oneshots I asked if y’all wanted the other chapter, and I was thinking up a name. At first, I was like oh I can do a play on Memento Mori and do Memoirs Mori since their surname is Mori… wait. I double-checked the meaning of memento mori (remember you must die), and it finally hit me. Mori not only means “forest” in Japanese but “death” in Latin. I feel like my friend definitely commented on that once but it didn’t stick I guess lol I’ve got 3 ideas so far, 2 of which are or would have been canon and one is pretty light. Each short story will say where in the timeline it's placed (if at all), so check the summaries for tw and if you want to avoid spoilers I probably won’t get a sensitivity reading for them unless I feel a strong need to for particular ones. As always, I’m very open to feedback. If you ever have a concern or question feel free to comment or dm me.

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scltnsea · 1 year

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— the ocean was the only thing that brought james a moment of solitude. he watched the roll of of eager-reaching waves as they climbed up the shore, foaming mouths collecting grains of sand and broken shells, fossilized pieces of what once was and never will be again, before they retreated backwards into the vastly unexplored and swallowing whatever they could. over and over again, the waves reached; stretching higher on the bank at some moments, when the ocean was at its most patient, but hardly escaping the oceans edge at others; being dragged back hundreds of feet back from where they were only hours earlier. ocean-dwellers referred to them as tides, but james saw nothing but himself in those waves, trapped in a never-ending abyss, having only moments of stretching right past it's depths before a forceful pull drew him back in. standing now, at the waters edge, watching those very waves lap eagerly at the leather of his boots as the smell of sand and salt invaded his nostrils, hook took a deep breath. the wind greeted his cheeks and whistled in his ears, lids closed and his one palm pressed deep into the worn pockets of his coat as his hook held it closed. he was deaf to the world, only hearing the achingly repetitive push and pull of the water, up and down, out and then back. the lagoons of neverland weren't nearly this peaceful, inhabited by one of the islands most suffocating and diabolical creatures that made the lost boys look like nothing but bait on a hook.

hah !! ... hook.

opening his eyes, he found his head winding to look down the shore; expecting to see a long running stretch of undisturbed sand lacking footprints going as far as it could before the island turned it's course east-ways. alas, a blemish on the gold-dusted terrain caught his attention, dark brows furrowing together as eyes squinted to make out the blip of white that sat just in the distance. a head of hair, long and disheveled... like the being it belonged to had been running. withdrawing his spy glass from his belt, the captain gently extended it and aimed it's face towards the figure, positioning his one eye at the viewing piece and squinting just enough to gaze through it. ah, but of course....

❛ — wendy darling, ❜ he whispered to himself, beneath bated breath.

whom else would seek refuge amongst the shoreline of an ocean who's body mocked the very prison wendy was willing to throw away her freedom for?? and for what... to be right here, without protection, in hook's reach- within DEATH's reach?? though he knew, or suspected, where wendy darling was that dreadful pan were to be not far behind. she was like a trinket, a pathetic little locket he slung around his neck just to showcase to the world what he was; a being incapable of being left forever. she was nothing more than that very locket in which he swung back and forth to entrance the wounded youth of what was now the other place and hypnotize them with the narrative that here, neverland, was the place of eternal childhood, eternal adventure, eternal magic, eternal life. what they didn't know until it was too late was that pan was a selective story teller, leaving out the bits that eventually sent those either upon the jolly-roger or six feet beneath the dirt; that none of it was true.

with his feet moving before his mind instructed, heavy boots made a quick pursuit in the figures direction, taking an upwards path towards the trees that lined the beaches edge in order to approach from behind in hopes the young girl wouldn't spot him and take off. he crept amongst the mouth of the forest, hand at the ready as fingers wound around the hilt of his swore- slowly withdrawing it from its sheath. then, as a parent would to a frightened child, he slowly moved behind her, lowering himself so he was on his knees, sword winding around her figure parallel to her torso before the blade pressed flat against her chest to draw her into him.

❛ — mmmm, beautiful, isn't it ?? ❜ he breathed a deep sigh, wendy's hair fluttering in the breeze and brushing against his cheeks like the feathered wings of wounded doves. he listened attentively to her breath, waiting for realization to dawn upon her and shift it's pattern. he loved when he made the breath of other's shudder in terror, it reminded him he still stood a chance. he could easily bring the sword to her throat and take peter's token, the position of power he was in right now- choosing if she lived or died- it was an intoxicating feeling... though one he was choosing to temporarily push to the wayside.

❛ the ocean... it almost beckons us, no ?? ah... !! but the allure of it all is so... deceitful. we are always at her mercy, regardless of the peace she may temporarily bring us... wouldn't you agree, miss darling ?? ❜

@wndybyrd

#* 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖎𝖙 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘: threads #* 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖞 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖉𝖑𝖞 : WENDY DARLING #not the length #hey its been a while how u doin #wanna kiss?

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chorusfm · 2 years

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Mother Sun – “Memory Banker” (Video Premiere)

Today is a great day to share the latest single and music video from Mother Sun, called “Memory Banker.” The song is a lo-fi, psychedelic blast of nostalgic rock that re-lives the glory days of 70’s rock n’ roll. Lead vocalist Jared Doherty shared: This song imagines your brain as a teller at a bank, pulling subconscious strings, filing away new information, tugging at the past and basking in the faint glow of faded nostalgia. Its accompanying video was spontaneously shot on the drive home from the studio we were recording at, Little Red Sounds in Vancouver, at about 2 am. Once I started filming the lens slowly unfocused and all the lights turned into beautiful soft circles swimming around the screen. One memory drifts into another on a late night drive through the back of your mind. If you’ve ready to take a trip into the unknown, join Mother Sun on their musical quest. I was also able to catch up with the band for a brief interview. What made you choose “Memory Banker” as this record’s final single? Can you describe its significance? It shows a chiller side of our music than the previous three singles. As the last track it’s kind of a long exhale at the end of the album. We put it to tape and slowed everything down just before mastering so it’s got this cool hazy feeling. The video for this track was shot fairly spontaneously, on a drive home from the studio — what inspired you to start filming your journey, and how would you say this visual translates the track’s general message into a visual format? It wasn’t even particularly meant for this song, I just wanted to capture that late night drive moment back from the studio. The relief of sitting back after a long day. The lights started going out of focus and floating by, and it started looking more like flying through space the more things went out of focus, so I thought it matched the song really well. It relates to the lyrics in the sense of looking into the past with rose-colored frames, the blurry lights and nostalgia adding a glow to memories as time passes. For anyone who is being introduced to Mother Sun via this record, what would you want them to know about this project and this new LP? This is our third record! We went to the studio with the intention of recording a heavier album than the previous two. As usual we started the songs live off the floor, with friends joining us tracking the beds on double drums and baritone guitar on a few songs. A string quartet and horns were added later. We stitched together short transition tracks from old jams we’d recorded to tape and ambient phone recordings to take the listener from one track to the next, fleeting side notes from the band’s wandering mind en route to the next station. Holistically, what themes would you say run throughout this new record? Is there a general idea that holds everything together? It’s about the power of thought in controlling our mental well being, the way you frame things and how that impacts your reality. The push and pull of the insane / mundane pace of modern life and awareness and presence as a counter to that. The opening and closing tracks kind of hold things together thematically – the relaxed, optimistic departure of a new train of thought in the morning, and the careful selective editing of an exhausted, imperfect memory at the end of a long day. --- Please consider becoming a member so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/features/mother-sun-memory-banker-video-premiere/

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dustedmagazine · 2 years

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Anna Tivel — Outsiders (Mama Bird)

Outsiders by Anna Tivel

Anna Tivel is a writer first, and a remarkable one, at that. The fact should not diminish the considerable charm of her fluttery, vibrant voice or the seductiveness of her melodies. It sheds no scorn on her talent for arranging songs with bright, just-enough instrumentation that augments but never buries their essential shape. And yet, with an album like Outsiders, and particularly with stand-out track “Black Umbrella,” you really have to start with the words. They would stand out on paper, which even the best lyrics often do not. Moreover, they fit with casual grace to Tivel’s tune, so that her precise, poetic story gains resonance and emotional heft from the way the notes run–and the way the notes run creates no difficulties at all for the flow of words.

“Black Umbrella” tells a knotty story of a kid caught up in a bank robbery, maybe involved as a lookout or maybe not, but certainly not responsible for the violence when the robbery goes wrong. The narrator is trying to help a teller who is bleeding to death when the police arrive and mistake him (or her?) for a criminal; in the confusion, they shoot him dead. The whole lyric is well worth reading, and you can do so at the United Songwriters for the People’s Sovereignty Bandcamp page, but for a taste, here’s the verse where it all goes wrong.

Gun, somebody cried, and you kicked your legs and broke the window In a chaos of confusion, raining glass like diamonds loosed and you were On your feet again and then a bullet danced right through you And the ground came up like some great flood and then you were not moving.

The “bullet danced right through you” and “the ground came up like some great flood” are particularly fine, active, idiosyncratic ways to describe a violent death, but the song is full of striking images. It would work reasonably well as the wireframe for a short story, but here, pared to ellipses, the song has a remarkable, subtle power.

I’ve focused mostly on “Black Umbrella,” but it’s one of a half dozen gems here. “Ruins” has the disc’s loveliest vocal line, with its trilling, melancholy refrain, an “and oh…” that cascades and curls with surpassing grace. The title track, “Outsiders” is a ghostly folk song about the moon landing, full of wonder and poetry. “Astrovan” is a ruminative waltz, framed by terse guitar chords and flowery piano flourishes and infused with regret.

All work with a precision that doesn’t entirely dispel mystery, and all suggest obliquely rather than spelling things out. In any case, it should not be surprising that Tivel has a way with compression. Her last, 2019’s The Question, included songs about a gender transition and an immigrant child making a border crossing, both recounted in spare but evocative language, without cheap shots or soapboxing. I called the disc “tensely, transparently lovely” in my review at Dusted and noted with appreciation how “the lives she limns in her songs are unruly.” All still true, these gorgeous wispy songs about complicated subject matter from a songwriter skilled enough to tuck away all the difficulty. Not many people are making folk songs as beautiful and rich as this. Don’t miss out on Outsiders.

Jennifer Kelly

#dusted magazine #albumreview #jennifer kelly #anna tivel #outsiders #mama bird #singer songwriter #poetic #lyrics

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lieutenant-simp · 3 years

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Felt You When I Needed It Most

F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warning: Attempted bank robbery? I guess like also guns and knifes, mentions of blood. FLUFF AT END I PROMISE.

Summary: Whenever someone touches your soulmate you also feel it on your own skin.

Not my Gif

A/N: I still would like some requests please :) I am an absolute sucker for tropes and clichés. Soulmate AUs absolute *chefs kiss* Also this was not proofread.

Words: 1,547

Since you were young, you’ve never had the best track record with injuries and pain. It was awful at first, but as the years went on you had to get used to it. The pleasant experiences all your friends had with their soulmate touch never seemed to match your own. They got the feeling of warm hugs, and you got punches to the face.

To counteract your soulmate, you made it a mission to provide comfort. Clearly, they weren’t getting any. You’d be extra affectionate to your friends, always giving hugs goodbye, and platonic cuddles. It was what you were known for. You liked to think that your soulmate would enjoy it.

Unbeknownst to you, it did. Wanda, your soulmate, would relish the feelings of love. Love she didn’t get. Her guilt would eat away at her every time she would get hurt. When she was tortured by HYDRA, she would cry, not for her, but for you. She, of course, felt horrible when she went on missions for the Avengers, the pain being much less frequent but just as awful.

Your hugs, providing the warmth she never allowed herself to have with anyone. At night she would sometimes feel the warmth of someone next to her, and it was one of the few nights she slept well. Knowing you were safe and loved. She loved you, the constant feeling of warmness and love showing you were there with her. She has always been yours, maybe that's why she never let anyone get close, never go on dates when she had left HYDRA. She certainly had people wishing they were her soulmate, but her heart belonged to you.

Your job is much less exciting than Wanda's. Being a bank teller had its perks, you met lots of people every day. Silently praying that one of them was your soulmate. As well as the pay, being the bank that worked for Stark was pretty good. Free coffee at the coffee shop inside while you were working was phenomenal. You never met any of the avengers but you would see them occasionally come in.

When Wanda had first come to work for the Avengers, she was new, to well, everything. She hadn’t had a bank when she first joined, and Tony being Tony recommended his own that he used. It was a nice bank, she never had to go in, as Tony’s numerous assistants took care of all the work for her.

However as a gift, Tony had given everyone checks and Wanda went to deposit hers. She would probably donate hers to a local orphanage as she always did with her bonuses. Tony had offered to get someone to do it for her, but Wanda wanted to get out of the compound, especially when she heard about the amazing coffee that was there. She had lunch later with Nat and Bruce. As it was fairly early in the day when she decided to leave, she wanted to get all her errands done beforehand.

Walking into what she thought was one of the safest banks was quite alarming when she saw what was going on.

Being at work at 7 in the morning was the one thing you hated about this job. It was always slow in the mornings as well, waiting for people to help was bringing your attention to your fatigue. Although wanting people to come in was even less appealing. But when seven or so men came in, you were eager to help them all.

You smiled and said hello before they quickly showed you their guns. You didn’t even get the chance to press the panic button as one pointed a gun at you. You looked towards where security normally was a curse to yourself as they had been busy, they sat against a wall with guns pointing at them.

You heard the door open, and you look briefly at who came in, but the man pointing the gun at you thought you were trying to run. He grabbed your arm roughly and grabbed his knife. He pulled you towards you and held the knife against your neck stopping you from moving altogether.

He dragged it against your face slowly, scratching into your skin, enough for you to bleed. You cry out in pain.

Wanda steps in and sees people attempting to rob from the bank. They quickly noticed what was happening. She grabs her face feeling pain, your pain, which was extremely unlike her soulmate to get hurt. She looks at you and sees the blood trickling out of your cheek. She watches you get slapped and the knife digging into your skin, and she feels it too. She wanted to find you, but not like this. Not when she desperately wanted you safe, to see only the joy in the world which she never got to see much of.

“I suggest you stop now before you get into more trouble than you need to,” She shouts. The men point their guns at her quickly. But her eyes stay on you, she sees the fear in your eyes, the tears threatening to pool, she heard your cry. Wanda focuses her eyes back on the men, her eyes start turning red as she focuses on her powers. Willing the men to drop their weapons and kneel and inhibiting them to move. She didn’t try to control the man that had you, she was too scared that the sudden jerkiness from their fighting would hurt you.

“If you let her go now, you’d make your life so much easier” He merely laughs in her face, before pulling you closer to him the gun pressing roughly to your temple. You look at Wanda, the way her head moves slightly, the same side yours does, as if she could feel it.

Wanda already had alerted the rest of the team as soon as she saw what was happening, so she knows you’ll be okay soon, but she had just found you and she can’t help but worry.

You do get put into a worse situation, the man, that was holding you, decided to try and use you as a bargaining chip. Deciding if he hurt you enough Wanda would let him leave. He started constricting your oxygen take, slowly at first, but now it was getting hard to breathe and see. Wanda wasn’t doing much better than you but the man holding you didn’t have to know that. Slowly you slump against the man, he was startled that you were now unconscious and let you go suddenly, Wanda took this as an opportunity to restrain him as well.

The other avengers had just gotten there when you had fallen. Wanda rushed over to you and put her hand on your chest. She relaxed slightly when she saw you were still breathing.

You woke up to bright lights as you opened your eyes slightly. It didn’t look like the normal hospitals that were around you. Your breathing picks up slightly as you remember what happened. You remember men coming in and hurting you but you don’t remember much after.

Wanda looking up and seeing you were awake she makes her way over to you.

“Hey” You turn to look at her, you recognize her from somewhere but you can’t remember where. But holy shit is she beautiful. “Who are you?”

Wanda laughs, “We met at the bank and well, I think I’m your soulmate” She walks closer to you and grabs your hand, and you feel it. You stare dumbfounded at your interlocking hands. “I’m - I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want- This might be too soon I just I don’t know, I was so scared I had just found you and I-“

“No- no, this is exactly what I wanted. I’ve been dreaming of when I’d meet you since I knew what soulmates were. You’re so breathtaking. I-I just I don’t know, uh I don’t know what to do” You look up at her and laugh, “I’m Y/N by the way”

“Wanda, I don’t know really, um I don’t really know how to do this relationship stuff” You squeeze her hand slightly

“Me either, I guess we can figure it out together” You lean up slightly, inviting her to lean closer as well. When she gets close enough you kiss her. Slowly, taking your time, relishing the feeling. Everyone always said that kissing your soulmate was indescribable. The best feeling, something that you crave, they say you love your soulmate the moment your lips first meet.

“I, We should, we should get to know each other first before we say I love you” You stare at her dumbfounded. “You’re at the Avengers compound by the way” You look around and again notice where you are. You look back at Wanda, as if finally recognizing her.

“You’re the, you're the, you’re an Avenger” She laughs at you, “I see you on TV all the time, OH my that’s why you’re hurt all the time” She smiles sheepishly

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that” You squeeze her hand that’s still interlocked with your own.

“I’ll forgive you if you give me another kiss” You grin at her before she laughs and leans forward again.

#wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #wanda maximov x reader #wanda maximov x y/n #wand maximov x you #maximoff #wanda angst #wanda maximoff angst #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff fluf

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inkskinned · 5 years

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my arch nemesis cynthia is, of course, at the bank, because we both were sent like clockwork to pick up the checks of our husbands. she is wearing a lovely long green gown, which i know was on behalf of me, because, as my husband will tell you, our house abhors green and glamour. already the tellers look at each other under their little hats, for they love our tirades, i’m sure, although not more than i hate them.

“oh, is that your knitting?” my arch nemesis cynthia peers her eyes at my hands. “is it some kind of... sock?” everyone knows she and i used to be close before we were married and our husbands, smartly so, have introduced us to the idea of true vengeance.

“it is a scarf,” i say. i want to tell her that when the time comes and the world gets cold it will go over my mouth and i will breathe warm air and it will fill my lungs and i will be able to run around with my love even in the dark night. “it is not,” i say, “over surprising that you should be caught unawares of a scarf,” i say, “as i’m sure enjoying winter festivities are too beneath the handsome qualities your husband prefers.” pompous ass.

the tellers pass each other eyes for now it has started and they are delighted.

my arch nemesis cynthia thrusts out her hand. a white bottle. “rat poison,” she says. “i would expect the whole town knows about your little problem.” stage whisper. “such a shame, my dear.” then she rustles her long green skirts - which i know she wore on behalf of me - and she shimmies herself out of the room like royalty. oh, she floats everywhere she goes, beautiful black hair behind her. the bottle in my palm is cold. i will devise how to get her back starting first thing tomorrow.

the week, as always, is a long week, for there is much to make and do and knit and be. my husband comes home and i love him for who he is; for he never comes home without checking the state of the house up and down. he is the kind who loves his home so completely and sets each room like a stage for a great band to come playing. i am too ashamed to tell him why so many of the rats go missing, only make him a stew the next morning to celebrate. his favorite, although not mine, i’m afraid. plenty left over.

my arch nemesis today - of course - in a green the color of rotting. a bruise is uncarefully covered on her cheekbone, so striking against all of her dainty. her husband would say it was for her ungraceful nature, and i know mine would agree. i strike first, already delighted by my master plan, shoving over our best picnic basket tied with a bow. “i made you and yours a stew,” i say, “for beneath all that you carry” all that horrible wealth of your husband “it seems you’re getting rather skinny.” i can’t resist one last comment. “i am worried you’re about to waste to nothing.”

She plucks it out of my hand. “yes, if it weren’t for you and your husband’s dwindling wealth,” her sarcasm is biting, “i’m sure i will be nothing in, oh, 5 weeks time.” she arches a brow. “so long from now.”

“i am counting the days,” i tell her. her lips purse. the tellers behind me make a choked titter. perhaps, by their estimation, i have won this round quite completely. i go home to my husband smiling. he asks where i have been and i tell him i’ve been at the bank, but he checks anyway because i like to get up to tricks and he doesn’t like to fall for it. it is a good game we play. at night, when he is asleep, i am so in love that i must convince myself to pull the covers over my nose and practice breathing. how silly to wake him up for a young girl’s feelings.

the first week of five: she gives me a solid, ugly ring that requires three knuckles to hold. “i feel so badly for your status, and i must remember to practice charity,” she says. “it such a small thing, but do be careful amongst all that thin pine furnishing of your house, which dents so easily.” my husband appears at the bank’s front door. just checking. so lovely to be picked up by him. at night, in a rage, i try it - beneath the table bends easily. i scuff out the scratch with walnut before my husband can see. i pull the covers over my face in bed and breathe.

the second week: i wear her ugly ring and give her more stew, this time hearty with meat. her dress is a meadow. my heart each time it sees her collapses on itself. she hands me clothes for my husband, since his wealth continues to go missing, and the charity of her heart is so loving. i am so ashamed i bury them far by the old tree, where all my shames go hiding. again, the covers. it, by now, helps me sleep. i have gotten so good at it that i can simply shimmy my shoulders to be perfectly toasty and buried.

the third week: she asks how comes my knitting. i tell her it’s nearly complete. she asks how comes my husband, whom she must know has been ill recently, and who is doing quite badly. i go home to him, shaking. even sick he is a good housekeeper, who comes home examining for dust and dinge so i do not fall behind on my chores. who checks to be sure i spoke to only him and no one more, for fear a man might snatch me. tell me, who else has a man so involved, in this day and age?

the fourth week she is envy green. i shove a whole heaping of stew at her, for now her husband has gotten it. i say it will return him to spirits, she laughs, a sudden, beautiful sound, even in the quiet of a bank. everyone stares. maybe it is the stress that is making her quite improper. i feel the same way. so much is happening and it always seems she knows. she says she heard he has left me nothing in the will, which everyone already knows. she says she doubts either of us can dig upwards from the hole we’re both in. i look at the bruise on her nose. i tell her to mind her own husband, and be careful where she goes.

the fifth week: so final. her, garishly lime green. and i in black, to pick up a check that hardly seems the effort. it will be enough to cover my husband’s funeral. she smiles at me and hands me a silver bottle. she says quietly: now that i am destitute, there is one thing for it all, and everyone would understand quite completely. it would be quiet, and quick, and complete.

it is the night of the new moon, so dark no man can see in it. i receive notice her husband has died, and i am sorry to say i find a terrible joy in it. the air has changed cold. i have left a note asking to be buried in my scarf, the last thing i have made on this earth. i go through each perfect room, but there is nothing else to take with me, for the house has always been his and his alone, and now aches to be gone of him. i would not serve as a good tender for it. having spent so many nights watched carefully, the silly girlish freedom i’d gain would surely set the house ablaze.

i follow her instructions. quick, quiet, complete.

the horrible rustling is what does it. like a million green skirts. and then it is dark, and i am in my own coffin, eerie with pine. my head hurts but i must be quick and quiet. they have listened and buried me with my scarf. i shimmy my shoulders just-so and get it over my face. bring my arms up, ugly ring heavy, and begin to hit as hard as i can, over and over, the thin wood of my husband’s favorite furniture, the cretin. it would be pine, of course - he left me no money to be buried in any nicer recourse.

the wood splits so horribly, and then it is very hard to breathe, harder than under the covers, and i have to remind myself to be patient and continue to dig upwards, while my throat closes and my heart beats so loudly and the whole thing is so heavy it is a universe. the shifting of gravedirt is loud, and loud, and i feel i will be turned into a worm, and i fear everyone has forgotten about me, or i have gotten the timing wrong, or i will really die down here in the dirt and the cold

but then her hand, and my hand, and we are both digging towards each other, and she lifts me so easily from the ground like a plucked turnip and holds me against her, us both panting and muddied. we can only stay like this for so long, here in my pauper grave, and then we are both running to the old tree where we met, and unburying a second thing; my lovely box of shame, and men’s clothes, and all of my husband’s dwindling fortune i have slowly been squirrelling away.

my love and angel cynthia, who has black hair like a curtain and a mind so fast i sometimes am in frank awe at it, who is, even now and dirty and raw: even now the only sun in my life.

like this, i a man in an almost-dawn, and us cleaned by the river, and her smiling so widely, and only a faint bruise on her, and our pasts behind us in ugly garish colors. and her delicate hand and beautiful nose and when i finally get to kiss her it feels like green feels; my favorite color, all warm and nature and sunny grace and grass and lying awake so filled with love it makes you shake.

i hold her, and she holds me, and our future is a love like a dream unburied.

#spilled ink #prose #short story #wlw #if you're confused they were planning this from day 1 #rat poison goes to the rats #rats go into stew.... subtle poisoning #the ending can be read many ways #but always happy

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

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arrière-pensée

— When you start a new job, you never thought you would come face with Most Wanted Ground Zero who decides that you’re going to help him make a point.

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pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, robbery kink, consented noncon, public sex, exhibitionism, degradation, spanking, slight gunplay, sadist bakugou, machoist reader, blow job, character death, murder, blood, gun violence, knife violence

word count: 8,550

a/n: literally fuck me. I super fucking liked this prompt had clearly had too much fun because this was not supposed to be a long fic. anyways, I hope you like the idea of big bad evil bakugou fucking you to make a point. also, just trust me on the details on y/n I make, please. make sure to comment on all fics you enjoy, all authors love them! carefully read the warnings!!!!

kinktober day 4 main kink: robbery kink

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“As for our latest news, the city of Chiba has decided to close the current twelve-month reigning search for the missing victim of the Chiba Bank robberies. However, known criminal known only by his alias Ground Zero who has been on our countries most wanted list on account of robberies, murder, and rape is still on the ru—”

Click.

You frowned as you threw the TV remote onto the bed, unease sitting on your stomach.

Pre-work jitters were a normal thing, right?

You looked at the full-length mirror in front of you, your finger pressed against a black pencil skirt, trailing up to brush against the white silk shirt you wore. Today is a special day, you reminded yourself as you lined closer to the mirror. Your hand grabbing the dark red lipstick you owned and as smoothly as you could, smoothed the cream over your lips.

The first day working at the esteemed Yaoyorozu Banking Inc., the world's most influential and wealthiest bank. Getting an interview at the prestigious bank had been a once in a lifetime opportunity, your incredible resume and references without a doubt getting your foot in the door to simply be a bank teller.

Yes, to simply be a bank teller, you had to know at least three languages (you knew English, Japanese, Mandarin, and Spanish), had to know someone with affiliations to either the Yaoyorozu family or the hiring team (your number one reference was none other than the CEO and Founders daughter), and have a certain intellect (there was an admittance test to even qualify to fill out a job application). It had been a rather challenging admittance for you, especially as they had only been one job opening. Frankly, you think your only reason for winning the spot was due to Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand.

Still, it mattered not in the end because you had the job—no use of trying to figure out just what made you stand out so much.

Pushing away from the mirror, you studied yourself over one last time.

Your outfit was exactly as they required it to be, your pink hair styled appropriately out of your face, and the slight gleam of your pantyhose made you heave a heavy sigh.

You were as ready as you could ever be.

With one final look into the mirror, you tilted your head at the gold-colored contacts you wore, a symbol of the job you held at Yaoyorozu Bankings and thought it made you look like a whole other person. No time to dwell on that, you decided, slipping on your watch and red-bottomed high heels and left your apartment.

It was time to work.

The commute to work was dull if you ignored the way your stomach twisted and turned in the thought of arriving at work. What would the security be like, at the bank, you couldn’t help but wonder? Would there be bulletproof glass? Ten security guards?

All the banks you’ve ever had the pleasure of entering had always been handled with a small waiting room for clients and a five-inch thick bulletproof glass wall. But that had been at smaller, local banks, not anything like where you were about to begin working. Yaoyorozu Banking had several different buildings designated for the different types of jobs located within their name. You did, however, know that the smallest only two-story building was for their in-person bank tellings. That is where you would be working. Two floors for an essential part of their business, and you had no idea what it looked like as you had no account with them, and your interview had taken place at their headquarters.

By the time the bus had pulled up to the stop, you would need to get off of, you could feel the nerves of the upcoming day begin to sit heavily on your bladder. You could feel the eyes of everyone else on the bus staring at you as you exited the vehicle. Everyone knew what this stop was for and had undoubtedly seen the gold contacts when you passed by them.

Each step of your heel against the sidewalk's paved concrete seemed to echo distinctly in your ear. It was rather odd, you noted as you walked toward the bank's building, that despite a large number of employees and patron’s the bank had, it seemed almost deserted. Looking down at the watch on your wrist, you knew immediately that you weren’t running late. As a matter of fact, you would be running precisely on time, showing up to your on-call site fifteen minutes before you were due.

Regardless, you took each stride in your step as powerfully and as in control as you could. Your gaze narrowed, focused, intense as you stared at the revolving crystal clean glass doors. With one last supporting thought about how you were absolutely going to make sure that you would end this day in success, you pushed through.

White marble floors, glossy white walls with black and gold accents met your gaze immediately. Despite the apparent shock of seeing the indoors of this lavish, distinctly rich bank, you continued moving as if unaffected. The clicking of your heels against the floor was the only thing letting you know that you were, in fact, moving.

Twelve men lined the lobby hallway, each tall, bulky with sunglasses and earpieces on. Although you couldn’t see their eyes, you had without a doubt that they were looking at you as you passed them to a set of large oak and gold accented doors.

There, a smiling woman greeted you. Her smile is warm and gentle as her own silver-colored eyes welcome you, and your spine stiffens at the appearance of information that passes through your vision.

Name: Fuwa Mawata Position: Greeter & Inspector.

“Ah, welcome Uzume-chan!” she cheered in greeting, her mascara painted eyes closing in greetings. You said your hello’s, your voice breathy with the shock of this bank's high technological advantages. “I see that this is your first day here, and luckily for you, no one is around, so I may quickly inform you of entrance clearance!”

“T-That sounds perfect!” you admit, your smile feeling just the littlest bit too tight, but your hands held your bag tighter in your grip.

“Wonderful! Well, here at Yaoyorozu’s Banking Inc., we have a strict business protocol for both our clients and our employees! First, as you may or may not know, all of the building's operations take place on the floor above, and due to the clients we have, it's a bit… unorthodox in our approach. We are the only bank with no bulletproof glass between you, the bank tellers, and our customers!”

What now?

“Our clients are so finicky about being treated with such distrust that they’d rather have this approach!” Fuwa laughed as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with such statements. “So, to approach the bank, you must pass by me! But do not worry! We have never, ever within our nearly century-long reign, have ever been robbed or seized before. Our twelve men out there are true experts, and I have the only button to inform the police right here! Everyone, so both clients and employees, must leave their personal belongings here, and I will search you for any potential weapons!”

“I’m not allowed my phone up?” you asked, a bit confused by this rather outlandish set of rules.

“I’m afraid not! You’ll be so busy working the entire time you won’t be needing it. You are allowed to come and retrieve while on lunch since the break room and lunchrooms are down here on the first floor!” Fuwa confirmed, her head nodding in confirmation. “I understand that it can be a bit different, I myself am not yet used to it, but these rules are in place so that every one of our clients and employees can remain safe!”

You fight off the frown that dangerously tries to grow on your face by nodding, handing over your purse to Fuwa, “That makes sense.”

“Glad to know that it isn’t an issue for you, Uzume-chan! Now, if you’ll step past me, I’ll be checking for any concealed weapons, and you will be met with your supervisor as soon as you enter the second floor!”

It takes exactly two seconds for Fuwa to complete her scan of your body. She explained with a wink that her contacts allowed her to find any potentially dangerous weapon on a person's body. “No matter where it might be,” she added with a tilting head and a bright grin. “By the way, I love the watch! It’s so beautiful, it must’ve been expensive!”

“Oh,” you feel your face warm as you gently touch the watch, your finger tapping the watch’s face twelve times while your smile is unparalleled as you think of the man who had gifted you the object. “Thank you, it was a gift.”

With that, you climbed up the stairs as sophisticatedly, brushing a few strands of curly pink hair out of your face as you enter the main floor, and you realize immediately that the quiet of the first floor and outdoors does not reach this floor.

The second floor is loud.

People with their names and occupations flashing within your view walking from table to table, stacks of paper in their arms, arguing, or talking with those around them. It was a sight to behold, indeed. But a voice interrupted your thoughts, and before you could honestly assess the situation at hand, you were whisked away, a detailed explanation of your job and expectations were.

Unexpectedly, Fuwa had been right.

This job had no downtime.

You sat on a leather seat at a desk to handle the clients. Much like old banks out west, your desks were much higher than those you were servicing; most often, you had to look down at them like a mother to a child as you worked.

Your supervisor, who went by the name Togeike Chikuchi, was over your shoulder for about an hour, detailing and correcting your every action until you cleared ten clients entirely on your own. At this moment, she sat at the desk to your left, chatting with her client with a bright sunny smile that you had thought for a moment she was incapable of.

It was 14:23 when you were with a client who was currently wondering if sending her ‘poor niece who lived with her amazing female roommate’ ¥500,000 was enough for a week worth of groceries. Of course, it took everything in you to bite your tongue and ask her if she had ever bought her own groceries before.

“Well, if you’re asking me, I think that’s a perfect amount!” you smile pleasantly, watching as who you’re pretty sure to be a CEO of a rice tycoon company. “If anything, you can always question her if that was enough the next time you speak. Everyone is always so different when it comes to groceries.”

“Ah, I suppose so!�� she laughs good naturally, her arms rising to press a slip of paper with her account information on it on your desk. “I always spend almost—”

She cut off, and for the first time, you didn’t have to wonder why.

There was an echoing, distant sound of four straight bangs.

It seemed to have been heard collectively by the entire second floor because, for a moment, there was a silence that wrapped the whole floor.

Mumbles and murmurs soon flooded the floor, and a frown pressed against your lips as you stared at the staircase. What happened?

“Oh, I bet you that dumb janitor downstairs dropped his vacuum again!” your client huffed, her eyes rolling while you transferred the amount she requested from her account over into her nieces. “He did that the last time I was here too! Except it only caused two loud bangs like that! How immaturely irresponsible of him! Unable to do his job correctly and as a janitor at that? How much lower could he possibly get?”

You, once again, bite your tongue, choosing instead to laugh in faux humor over her rant. The agreeing lie on your tongue moments from being let out when a new sort of movement at the corner of your eye stopped you.

Climbing up from the staircase was a man who took heavy, powerful steps. You were getting used to the way these clients carried themselves. They all tended to stride authoritatively, commandeering all attention to them. Despite their dominative pace, they were almost light on their feet, their steps relatively silent as they walked from corner to corner. But this man who made his way up the stairs was heavy, barbaric, and fierce with every echoing footstep he took.

It was as if the world slowed down as the entire room went to stare at him, and an ice-cold shiver crept down your spine as you took him in.

Ash blond, spiky unruly hair. Splattered red blood covering his exposed arms and neck. A black get-up looked akin to a secret black op team with the black army vest, black tank underneath, black army pants, black combat boots, and strap around his right thigh that seemed to carry two guns and knives. As a matter of fact, his vest also showcased the copious amount of ammunition he had.

It was Ground Zero.

Fear plunged through you as he rose a single hand to the ceiling, a sickening smirk spreading on his face as the world seemed to slow down. Many clients chose to turn to look the second his finger pulled on the trigger.

BANG.

Shrieks erupted through the floor, and you watched as everyone, including yourself, hit the deck. Your body trembled with nervous fear as the gun firing stopped.

“Everybody get the fuck up.”

It was a low voice, gravely, and course with evident past strain. You looked across the way to Togeike, who looked just about as fearful and terrified as you felt.

You didn’t dare to move, and by the looks of it, none of your coworkers did either. There was no panic button on this floor, and the only way to the switch was at Fuwa’s desk. A desk that couldn’t be reached unless passing by the man with black paint smeared across most of his face in a strategic way that rendered him anonymous by all photographic and video evidence.

“I don’t think I fucking stuttered,” Ground Zero sneered, a light, fickle chuckle erupting low and deep in his chest as the sound of scared whimpers and silent sobbing began to pick up around the room. You didn’t need to know who was making those noises; after all, you knew what everyone was already thinking: will I be killed next? There was a loud bang a bit too near to your body, and you couldn’t help but scream in tandem with everyone else on the floor and the distinctive, irreplicable sound of someone choking on their blood. “I said, everyone, get the fuck up.”

Flight or fight were always two instincts you were taught about in school. Two altering, opposite reactions to being placed in stressful situations, but right now, you were in that third, lesser-known option: freezing.

“It’s like you elite bastards are begging to fucking die!” he laughed joyously, and you felt tears push to your eyes as another resounding bang shake through your body, your ears ringing with the noise. The now becoming familiar sound of a body hitting the floor dead and bleeding sending a sickening bubble through your throat.

But you pulled yourself up, your body trembling like a leaf as you stared at the infamous criminal who was merely smirking at the two dead bodies of clients who continued to bleed out on the floor as those around them cried.

“So, even with all the money in the goddamn world, you damn elitist are still damn fucking cry babies!” he cried with unrestrained, unleveled glee and anger. “Oh, this was the perfect place to choose as my final exit from the world.”

Your breath stops when he turns on you, his blood-red eyes locking on yours, and you can feel the hairs on your arm rising in unsettling knowing.

“Aren’t you a pretty looking whore,” he smirked, his hands putting his gun back into its holster, his heavy feet booming as loud as his gunshots as he makes his way towards you. The rest of the clients, especially the one located by your desk, shriek, cowering as he moves. “Tell me, whore, who does a guy gotta fucking talk to to get the money into my account?”

Your throat seamlessly tightened up in your deep fear as he directly addressed you, and you made a choking noise in your horror.

But, it seemed that Ground Zero was not in the mood for your timidness. Because you could see the vein in his temple throb, the sound of him sucking in his teeth, and the cold, humorous chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he grabbed his gun back out of its holster and pressed it centimeters away from between your eyes.

Typically, the clients couldn’t reach you from where they stood, but it was clearly apparent as he neared you that Ground Zero was not typical. He was big, huge, tall, and he quickly reached you.

The heat of the previously fired bullets from the muzzle of the gun radiating off it clearly, licking the skin on your forehead as finally, words tumbled out.

“I just started today, Togeike-san is my supervisor!”

Ground Zero lazily smirked as he followed your thrust out finger at your coworker and supervisor.

A loud choking sound spluttered from Togeike as Ground Zero turned his attention onto her and stalked over in three steps easily. His eyes were sharp, deadly, and cold as he stared at your supervisor, and he reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a black USB.

“Put all the bank's assets onto the account on this drive.”

“W-What if I don’t?” Togeike stammered, her body quivering just the same as yours. But the false sense of confidence only resulted in the gun being placed back between her eyes, only this time, he pressed the hot muzzle against her skin, and she shrieked at her burning skin.

“Try that again, you fucking extra,” Ground Zero hissed, and Togeike sobbed, grabbing the USB with a nod.

“I’ll do it! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

The sound of Togeike sobbing is almost as bad as the intruding smells of iron rusting blood from the dead bodies and the sick smell of the burning flesh on her forehead.

It seems to take forever, you standing there silently, perfectly still as Togeike hooks the hard drive to her computer. You can see that she begins the monetary transfer from the bank's large accounts and reserves onto the account enabled on the hard drive, and you feel numb. Should you be relieved that he would most likely take this once it was done and leave? Scared that he was here on your first day at that? What shit luck…

You concentrated on your hands as time seemed to drag by slowly, your knees still feeling weak, your breathing shallow as the crude smell of drying blood makes your head spin.

But unlike you, you hadn’t raised a single gaze in Ground Zero’s way, a rising sound of voices began to resonate from the floor and opposite side of the room. You blinked rapidly as you looked up.

Four men stood up, their brows furrowed, suits abandoned, and expressions steady and fierce.

“The fuck you think you’re doing standing up, fucking wimps?” Ground Zero gruffed, his body language telling a whole other story from his voice. He was relaxed, unaffected by their challenging forms and fierce glares. “What? Don’t tell me? You think you four in front of me can take me? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. Even with the three behind me who’s easily apart of your fucking idiotic plan, I’ll kill ya all before you can pray to not to be sent to hell!”

“Flatter ourselves?” a man scoffed after getting over the initial shock of their once thought to be secretive plan being exposed without so much as a spec of interest from Ground Zero. “Don’t you get so fucking cocky! We’ll beat your ass and hand you over to the fucking police, you damn bastard!”

Screams erupt throughout the entire room as the seven in cahoots men lunge forward at the dangerous criminal who has set himself back center stage of the second floor.

It’s over before you can blink.

You scream with the masses as five excruciatingly loud bangs go off, and you can barely return your gaze on the fighting men to see the outcome you already know.

There are six bodies on the floor, bleeding out fleetingly as Ground Zero holds the seventh by the neck. Your jaw drops as more blood splatters against Ground Zero’s chest, and you’re none the wiser of the knife buried deep within his throat until the body is falling over, dead, lifeless.

“All the fucking money in the world and none of you were taught fucking manners of a properly functioning brain, hah?” he roared, his lips pulled into a threatening, angry snarl as sobs erupt through the crowds again, and a rolling tingle shoots through your body. “I guess killing everyone just isn’t fucking enough for you all, is it?”

You were unsure of how to even answer that. Your eyes falling over onto Togeike, who was silently crying, her eyes screwed tightly as the meter on the money transfer hits 47%.

“Let me set an example for anyone else who wants to try more bullshit in front of me,” Ground Zero snaps, and you shriek when his bloodied hand tangles into your pink hair and yanks you over the desk.

Crashing onto the floor as ungracefully as one could, your eyes widen and jaw drop in an excruciating, soundless scream as pain shoots through your body. But, it’s not near over yet.

Your hands weakly grab Ground Zero’s wrist, trying to ease the pulsing pain in your body and scalp as he drags you front and center of the second floor. You can’t even understand yourself at this point, sniffling, pathetic pleas to let you go, tears streaming down your face as he throws you, your body hitting the marble floor as you sob for forgiveness.

“Now,” Ground Zero speaks from above you, and your arms have never felt weaker as you press up from the cold, ice floor. You freeze, your body feeling like a tundra as a now all too familiar click of a loaded gun resonates centimeters from your head. You silently sob when a warm muzzle pressed against the back of your head. “The next person to look away from what I’m about to do to my new cum whore, the next person who even fucking thinks of trying some really unfunny shit… her life is on your head.”

The sobs stop with that threat, or did they grow more at the easily implied actions of the corrupt man before you? You couldn’t really tell anymore. Yet slowly, the clients who are sitting in dead men’s blood shakily turn their gaze to you, and you can feel the weight of all their eyes on you. You feel weightless, almost empty.

“Pink hair is for whores, didn’t you know that? That’s why I picked you.” Ground Zero informs you from behind you. The barrel of the gun digs harder, pushing roughly against your head. “Whores are meant to be fucked by fat fucking cocks, so turn around, whore, and suck me off.”

Your breathing returns in spastic, shallow breathes, and you suppress the rising sob in your throat as you turn around on your hands and knees.

Ground Zero stares down at you with expectant eyes, cruel and dark with their crooked want and lust. Your breathing picks up when he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and underwear with only one hand, the other one with the gun never once leaving your head.

“Make sure you all watch her, I’ve never had to kill a bitch while sucking me off, and I wouldn’t want to make this the first time!” Ground Zero laughed, his crimson red eyes glaring at the shamefully gazed clients as he holds his growing cock in his hands. Despite all logic, you stare at his hardening cock with an ever-increasing lust, the tears in your eyes never stopping, but your cunt unwilling to ignore the fact that his cock would feel so good in anyone of your holes. You knew that, and it horrified you. “The fuck you waiting for?” Ground Zero growled, shifting the barrel of the gun to your temple, his eyebrow raised in a taunt. “Suck my fucking cock.”

And despite the growing hiccuping cries in your chest, you can’t stop the way your mouth waters as you shamefully grab onto his cock and press your mouth down on him.

His cock was large, undoubtedly longer than your face, and thicker than what your hand could encompass. Messy dark blond pubes sat motions away from your nose, and veins that ran all over his length rubbed against your tongue. The taste of his slightly sweaty cock made you gag, but the fear of what he would do caused you to snuff it out.

Tears poured limitlessly down your face, your throat and jaw stretching as far as it could as you took him in further and further.

Even with the tears on your cheeks, you did your best to appease him, horrified by the outcome should you not. Your tongue swirled against his girth, trailing the plenty of veins that you could get to. His cock pressed further into your mouth, shoving until it hit the back of your throat, continuing to dive in deeper until the ends of his pubes tickled your nose, and you could feel the head of his cock stretching out your throat. And horrifically, even with the strangled, choked sobs that still continued to pour from your mouth, you were enjoying the way he was fucking your mouth.

You enjoyed the way the cooling barrel on your temple made you quiver with dreadful apprehension. You enjoyed the way his hips rocked into your mouth, most often hitting your gaping jaw. You enjoyed the way the noises of your unwilling audience made you feel dirty, whorish, and shameful. But as his fingers managed to slip into your hollowing cheeks, drool and saliva dripping down your chin in your slobbering heat and shame, you could feel your essence slicking onto your panties.

“Look at how shameless you are!” Ground Zero laughed, his hand that once guided his cock into your mouth, gripping onto your hair and fisting into it. You yelped at the pain, your teeth painfully close to biting his cock. “All these people around watching you suck off the big, bad Ground Zero’s cock, and you aren’t even embarrassed!?”

You made a disagreeing noise, your brows furrowing, your gaze doing everything in its power to avoid your clients and coworkers gaze as Ground Zero began to rock his hips even more powerfully into your mouth. He chuckled, clearly pleased with what was occurring, and he threw the gun back into its holster. With the free hand, he placed it around your throat, squeezing your airway as you choked pathetically against his length and girth.

“I bet you came into work wanting to be fucked today. Wanting to get pressed to the floor and let everyone see your slutty fucking cunt and throat be used.” Ground Zero growled his grip on your throat, tightening even more. “Is that why you came here to work? Hoped I’d show up one day and fuck you to submission in front of everyone?!”

You gagged, the pounding of his cock further and further down your choked throat overwhelming you as the tears of shame quickly became those of fear as the lack of oxygen burned your throat and nose. You tried to breathe, but Ground Zero knew what he was doing and how he was doing it, not allowing you to breathe despite the way your fingers created crescent scars on the back of his thighs.

Too much, too much, too much!

His balls slapped under your chin, and the musk of his skin tainted your tongue, but Ground Zero was only getting started, it seemed. With his hands now grabbing the sides of your head, he began to fuck your throat savagely.

The wet sloppy noises of his driving cock into your throat seemed to echo off the shiny walls and marble floors. Your saliva and drool ruining your silk top and mixing with the blood on the floor.

Your eyes were crossing with the extreme force, your body feeling weightless with your inability to breathe, yet despite all logic, you finally let out a sweet, grateful moan as your nose pressed to his hips.

But that was enough for Ground Zero.

It was a noise that would finish the last nail in your coffin as he held you there to his hips, his cock entire within your throat that tightened and fluttered against his length as you struggled to pull away.

“No use in fighting it now, you fucking whore,” Ground Zero grinned, the expression on his face akin to that of a predator stalking his prey. His voice, ever so naturally loud, filled the room, letting everyone know just what was going on. “They all heard you moan like a slut while getting fucking raped by me. So do me a little favor and get on all fours, I need a place to dump my fucking cum.”

With that, Ground Zero shoved you off his cock and onto your back, and you began to cough and choke desperately. The sour, raunchy scent of the sweat, blood, and gunpowder burning your nostrils as you attempted to steady yourself. You began to cry again at the filthy thought of how you were enjoying the way his cock had been in you, and the way your body craved for more of it.

You didn’t want to admit that you wanted him to fuck you, especially in front of everyone.

But as you were consumed with your at war thoughts, Ground Zero was already impatient.

His feet trapped you between him, and he leaned down to grab your silk shirt.

“W-Wait—!” you shriek as he rips open the shirt, the sound of scattering buttons flying everywhere as your bra is revealed to everyone in the room who is watching.

Silent tears poured down your cheeks as with the destruction of the white silk shirt, a sheer and lacy red bra was exposed to the mass. Today had been a means of celebration, and you had intended on fucking your boyfriend the moment you got home… but that had been something you had kept a secret. Something to be held from the world until it was you and him in a bed. But it was now an object to be seen by everyone, and you bit onto your lower, trembling lip, eyes screwed shut as you tried to look away from the heated territorial look on Ground Zero’s face.

“Oh, look at what we have here?” Ground Zero almost whispered, but his voice still managed to reach every corner of the floor. “You are a little fucking whore, are you not? Came to work actually wearing lingerie! I thought I was just fucking teasing you before, but no! No! Not at all! You do want to be fucked in front of everyone!”

Your sniffling wouldn’t stop as his large, hot, bloodied dried hands grabbed at your bra-clad breasts. He was leaning down over you, you could feel the amused breathing flushing against your collarbone, and you mangled a choke when he kneeled down, trapping you.

“Such an ugly pair of tits,” Ground Zero mocked, his large hands pressing the sides of your breasts together, enhancing your cleavage and fullness of your breasts as you lay on the floor. “I’ll let you in on a secret… all those missing sluts I’ve fucked in previous jobs? Well, I can always tell how good a fuck they’d be just through this part.”

Hissing, you glared at Ground Zero as he slipped his fingers under the fabric, teasing and pulling at your pebbled nipples. His red glare meeting yours, mocking and somehow both hot and cold.

But a shameful, pitch moaned fell from you, your back against all logic arching up into Ground Zero. Soft whines, shaking arms, thrashing legs.

“Would you look at that,” Ground Zero’s sneering tone was back, and you found yourself opening your eyes (somehow missing when you closed them), to see Ground Zero glaring at someone in the crowd. “Looks like you could make a professional slut, whore! That man over there has a fucking boner over watching me rape you and your slutty mouth and feeling up your tits!”

“N-No I don’t!” the man exclaimed as you couldn’t help but meet the accused eyes that were filled with shame, a red blush tainting his cheeks. “Just thinking about when this’ll be fucking over!”

“Oh?”

Ground Zero’s grip grabbed you by the throat, and you panicked as he ripped you up onto your feet and began walking over to where the man was. You stumbled to keep up, unable to find your balance the entire time you walked with him, in awe that this unlawful man could walk determinedly when his pants around his thighs, hard, leaking cock pressing to his vest-clad stomach. But before you could find your balance, Ground Zero threw you back onto the floor, landing centimeters from the client's feet, and you began to cry as your exposed stomach touched the floor.

Ground Zero wasted no time on your noises, straddling your ass, scooping his hands beneath your breasts, and pulling you up.

The client's face went beet red, his bulge in his pants evident as you could only keep your gaze there, unable to raise or turn your head as Ground Zero squeezed your breasts in his hands.

You moaned at the sensation, your mind giving in to the feelings to not cry anymore.

“Tell the whore how much you like her tits,” Ground Zero commanded, his hands kneading and pulling at your mounds of flesh. “Tell her your little microcock wants to fuck her.”

The client had the decency to look offended as he spluttered, “I’M NOT GOING TO TELL HER THAT!”

With his words, silence took over the room, and you trembled in your fear.

“Damn extra?” Ground Zero shouts to Togeike.

“Y-Yes?”

“How much fucking longer?”

“I-It’s at 63%!”

“Wonderful.”

One of Ground Zero’s hands abandoned his manipulation of your breasts, but he still managed to keep you in place with only one hand. He pulled a breast out of the bra, and you whimpered as the client gwuaffed at the sight of your breast, but immediately cut himself off when a cold, heavy metal barrel pressed against your temple.

“Let’s try again,” Ground Zero said with faux cheer. “Tell the whore how much you like her tits, and how your microcock wants to fuck her, or else I’ll kill her right in front of you.” There’s a heavily, curling silence that overwhelms the room before he decides to add one last thing for good measure. “I’ve never fucked a dead body before, and I wouldn’t want to start that now.”

“I-I like her tits,” the man stammered.

“How much?”

“T-They’re… they’re so hot,” the man begins to cry, his body shaking in front of you. “I wish I could b-be fucking her instead!”

“Too bad for that microcock you have, huh?” Ground Zero taunted, pulling the gun from your temple and pointing it straight at the man's crotch. “Show her.”

“W-What?!”

“Show her your cock.”

It seemed to happen so slowly. The man unbuckling his belt with shaky hands, clumsily undoing his pants, and shifting it down his legs, white boxer briefs stained slightly with pre-cum. You looked away when he revealed a cock that looked pathetic to the one you had just sucked, so small, so thin, so discolored.

“You got one fucking ugly ass cock,” Ground Zero laughed.

Then the world picked back up.

The first thing you heard and felt was the tearing of your skirt, and you panicked as Ground Zero dropped your chest onto the cold floor. You whipped your head around to see your work skirt split all the way down the middle, only held together by a few remaining strands by the waistline. And the sheer pantyhose you wore, twisted between his fingers, and completely ripped as his gaze met yours.

“Cute fucking thong.”

You choked at the feeling of cold, soured air hitting your inner thighs that were still wet with your slick, and instinctively, you tried to scramble onto your knees. But it seemed that this was what Ground Zero wanted from you, for the moment you were on your knees, he pressed his hand to the curve of your back and kept you there.

Ass up, back curved, chest down.

“Until the transfer is at 100%, your wet little cunt is mine!” Ground Zero reveled in the information as he couldn’t even bother to pull down your panties before plunging his fingers into your sopping heat.

The shameful pleasure of feeling his fingers deep within your cunt sent you screaming, your back arching even further as his fingers continued to thrust in you. They curled and spread, sending your mind into a spiraling lust as he managed to find all of your sweet spots without so much as breaking a sweat.

“You’re so easy,” Ground Zero groaned, his cock rutting between the curves of your ass as he continued to finger fuck you. “So fucking wet too. I just knew a fucking whore like you couldn’t be getting fucked right at home, that’s why you hoped you’d get fucked by me today!”

Your teeth bit into your forearm, the overwhelming pleasure of his fingers stroking your inner walls, tweaking and moving against your clit, making your thighs tremble with the already forming pressure in your womb.

“Don’t be embarrassed, you little whore,” Ground Zero whispered into your ear, laughing when you shuddered at the feeling of his tongue licking the shell of your ear. “Everyone wants to hear you moan, scream, and cry for the big bad Ground Zero’s cock. Don’t mute yourself, let them hear just how well I’ll fuck you into a puddle of tears and cum.”

You didn’t want them to hear you begging for more. You didn’t want the entire room to know that your cunt was spasming and clenching around his fingers because you liked this. You didn’t want them to know.

“I bet fuckface in front of you really wants to hear it!” Ground Zero laughed, his finger doing light, quick circles against your clit as his other hand brought your attention to the man before you. Sure enough, his cock was throbbing, precum leaking down his length as he shamefully looked at you. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind you fucking yourself as I fuck this stupid cunt.”

But with the building pressure in your stomach. Your toes curling as the soft thumps of his fingers dive in and out of your sopping wet cunt, your body begins to tense up.

“Already ready to cum,” Ground Zero smirked, and you felt your body go rigid when his fingers left your cunt, and was immediately replaced with his large, thick cock.

Having not expected such action, your arms shot out, eyes rolling back as a guilty, wanton scream tore through your throat. He was so big, so thick, so full, stretching you out completely, sending your tight walls into a frenzy as they stretched and tightened around his cock.

Fuck, fuck, “fuck!”

“Oh, she speaks!” Ground Zero laughs, almost a bit deranged as he grabs onto your waist and begins to plow into you. “I wonder to what lengths I can get you to speak! I want to hear you screaming for me, whore.”

It was then that he slammed his hand against your ass cheek, causing you to shriek while your skin throbbed in his wake. It was heavy-handed, the power he held in his hand while never doubted, didn’t make you think it was ever this much. The pleasure curled pain made your knees buckle, a hot pressure bursting in your core, and another loud slap repeated on the same throbbing cheek.

Fisting in your hair, you keened loudly when Ground Zero yanked your head back. The arch in your back was dramatized by this action; your back ached as another heavy slap echoed against your swelling skin. His dense, almost wild breathing hits the shell of your ear, and chills shoot down your spine when he snarls.

“Your cunt is so fucking tight, is whoever this getup for fuck you shitty too? Don’t tell me this fucking extra is the man you fuck in your bed?” he laughs, his foot stamping to the outside of your leg. The new position increases the range and the power of his thrusts, sending your body forward with every squelch bringing thrust. “I bet you’d like it if your stupid cock piece was here to watch how a real fucking man fucks, huh? You fucking would—” his hand comes down to wrap around your waist, pinching and tugging at your clit that’s thrumming with impending orgasm. Ignoring your growing pleads for more— “You like being an example to everyone in this fucking shit room of how to be fucked correctly! I bet you’re actually liking the way they’re judging you and your tight, wet cunt.”

The next powerful thrust that has his balls smacking your skin nearly sends you tumbling over at the strength and power behind it. Your arms buckle under you, the weight and struggle to keep yourself upright was a challenge as Ground Zero abused your clit and cunt.

“Answer me, fucking whore.”

There was no stopping Ground Zero’s heavy hand against your pert ass, and you could not think of anything but how your cunt throbbed for the man behind you. Your sobs of pain had long ago become those of pleasure, and you could feel the raised prints of his hands on your sore cheeks. It was true; it delighted you.

“Y-Yes, I like being fucked by you!” you finally break crying, your body trembling in your excitement and need for more. “I like them watching as you fuck me! You fuck me so good!”

“Glad you could finally admit it because your cunt is so fucking wet right now I’m sure everyone else already knew,” he sneers while he rubs circles against your heated skin. “You’re trembling with excitement as you try telling me you don’t want me to fuck you. I can see you choking back your cries of pleasure, the fuck you take me for? Do you want me to leave you without an orgasm?”

“N-No!” you sob pathetically, arms pathetically stretching behind you to keep him thrusting faster into you. “D-Don’t leave me until I-I cum!”

Your words were loud, letting everyone know just how much you wanted this, just enough for the man before you to groan as he came, and you thanked Ground Zero as you trembled like a leaf before him. His upper lip pulled back into a smirk as he let go of your hair, letting your head drop back onto the floor, and his fingers go and pinch your nether lips, and you cried loudly.

“I know you can fucking scream louder than that. I want the entire fucking world to know who’s fucking you right now.”

The words were honey to your ear, and you shifted in an attempt to ease the growing lust between your legs.

Slap.

“Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Please, Ground Zero, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you babble, your tongue falling from your mouths as you pant like a bitch in heat, your body convulsing and shaking with need and heightening lust.

Your mind reeled as Ground Zero continued his conquest against your cunt. You could barely count the number of times he drilled his cock straight into your heat, the tip of his cock pressing into your cervix over and over. The added sensation of his fingers manipulating your clit, and shoving into your mouth to tug on your tongue as you began to grow too loud made you dizzy. Your ass and thighs were undoubtedly bright red and in the air, back arched further than you had ever gone, and saliva and tears seeping onto the marble floor.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he cheers as he repositions the angle in which he’s driving into you, and your ragged moans fill the area at the need of more. He continued fucking you, and while feeling finally returned to your abused ass, your hips finally began to buck against his commanding hips, trying to get the echoing slaps to grew even louder. “Such a greedy little slut.”

Gritting your teeth, you continued pushing against him, craving more heat, power, and pain.

“Is this not good enough for you?” Ground Zero chuckles, but there’s no light humor to his laughter. “Good.”

At that phrase, Ground Zero slams into you with the power and force you had yet to experience. Causing you to howl in your throbbing lust, your mind more a second snapping back out of its haze as you feel his cock twitch within you. Your breathing is harsh as you try to look at Ground Zero, finally trying to take a glance at how he looked. You wondered if he was as unhinged as you felt, as savage as you imagined with his lustful red eyes.

“Where is it at?” Ground Zero barked over at Togeike.

“I-It’s at 97%!” she stammered, shame dripping from her voice, and you had half a mind to wonder if they were all turned on too.

Maybe they were jealous of the fat cock claiming you, and you mewl in the thought, your back bristling as you slammed back onto his drilling cock. You wanted more from him, craved more from him. The coil in your belly still yet to be undone, but you were not going to let it snap anytime soon.

“Gotta fucking make this little slut cum soon then, huh?” Ground Zero grinned, and you felt his teeth bare into the back of your neck in a flash of throbbing, burning pain.

You cried.

The angle and power behind these growing sloppy thrusts were different than what you were used to. It was deranged almost, your body shifting with each thrust, nearly toppling over as Ground Zero claimed you with his teeth and his cock. With each hypnotizing slam of his hips, ringing moans of pleasures ripped from your throat, and you brought your arms as best you could to his waist to keep him there.

Sweat dripped down Ground Zero’s neck, his hands gripping your bruised and battered ass like some type of life support, and the squelching noises of your slamming sex were making your body weak.

“Please — fuck — do that! Do that again, please!” you screamed when a vein in his cock dragged against your pulsating, puffy walls, at the same time he pushed against your cervix.

“Such—” thrust— “A—” thrust— “Fucking—” thrust— “Whore!” thrust! “Who do you fucking belong to?!”

“Y-You, Ground Zero!” you scream, your hips buck against his slamming hips. It was so raw, so rough, and you were enjoying every passing second. “I belong to you! I’m your fucking whore, please fill me with your cum! Cum in me, please cum in me!”

Ground Zero preens at your praise, all while he continues to fuck you roughly. He was in his zone, his concentration like steel as he pounded into you again and again. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed against his penetrating cock, and the heated pressure now spilling over.

His cock twitched within you. It knocked the breath out of you; his fingers twisted into your hair.

“Fucking cum with me,” he demands, jerking your head back towards him again, and you sob as your legs tremble against his increasing power.

You feel your eyes cross, screaming out his name as your walls clamp down fiercely against his length, and you orgasm roughly, your body shaking and spasming uncontrollably as you scream his name. Ground Zero curses loudly, slamming into you one last time with the power and tenacity of an army as he lets out a string of curses, and you moan, knowing that he came in you.

“Such a good slut,” Ground Zero grins as you can feel your eyes fluttering shut, physical and mental exhaustion now catching up with you. “Sleep now, I’m not done with you.”

You couldn’t gather the energy to speak back, your world blacking out with the sounds of sobs, screams, and more gunshots.

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You wake up in a car.

The warm, gentle wind caressing your face as the world is quiet. It's calm, pleasant, pleasing. Your pink wig is on your knees, slightly ruined with blood, sweat, tears, and drool.

You sigh, your body throbbing with different pain as you look to your right at who’s driving.

It’s Ground Zero, or as you know him: Bakugou Katsuki.

His arms are covered now, the old black op outfit changed for a pair of black slacks and a red button-down shirt. You would have no idea he was the man who stormed into Yaoyorozu Bankings earlier that day.

“Good morning,” you sigh, reaching against the seat to press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Bakugou looks at you with a smirk, reaching towards you for a real kiss as he continues to drive. You can tell you’re in comfortable clothes, ointment on any potentially worrisome wounds he had inflicted on you while wrapped up in your twisted fantasy of yours.

“Nice to see you up,” he gruffs, his voice rough from his overuse in the bank.

“Did we get it?” you ask, head pressing to his shoulder, and with a chuckle, he raised the black USB.

“Damn fucking right we did, y/n.”

“Perfect.”

It goes without saying that despite the sheer brilliance of Bakugou’s work as Ground Zero, he would have never pulled off such crimes without you. His pretty, small girlfriend, who always played a victim of his lust at his operations just for good measure. It was a fun life both of you lived.

You looked at the expensive Cartier watch on your wrist, a beautiful gift he had gotten you after your first successive robbery. It had also been programmed for you to communicate with Bakugou on how many guards there were on the floor.

“I love you.”

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arrière-pensée: a concealed thought or intention; an ulterior motive.

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tags in comments, theres too many of you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #bakugou katsuki x reader

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pocket-luv101 · 3 years

Text

Spell of the Lion || Chapter 1

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side), Tetsono (side) Characters: Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: While hiking up a mountain, Mahiru falls into a river and he travels to the past. He meets Kuro and warns him of an ambush. The castle believes Mahiru is a fortune teller and forces him to accompany them in battle. Kuro is assigned to protect him. Mahiru works with Kuro to return to his own time. (KuroMahi, Time Travel AU)

(Ch.1) ||

Mahiru followed the mountain trail and he occasionally checked his map so he wouldn’t lose his way. He liked to hike but this would be the first time he attempted to climb the mountains of Scotland. He lived in Japan and he flew to the country to watch his friend’s piano recital. While his friend was busy with rehearsals, he explored the countryside. He studied various languages in college so he was able to speak with the locals if he needed help.

He heard of a fortress located near the top of the mountain. Over a thousand years ago, a powerful family ruled the land and they had seven warriors who guarded them. Mahiru turned the page of his map to a photo of the castle. Beneath the image was a tapestry featuring the seven warriors. He was surprised by how familiar they appeared and he wanted to see the tapestry in person.

The sound of running water caught his attention and he was confused for a moment. His map didn’t show a lake or another body of water in the mountain. Curiosity got the better of Mahiru and he walked off the trail to follow the sound echoing throughout the mountain. The woods next to the main path was crowded with trees and thick shrubbery. He pushed aside branches and placed his hand on a tree trunk for balance on the uneven ground.

Mahiru stepped out of the bushes and he found a stream running down the mountain. The water was clear and he could see small fish swimming inside. He was surprised by how pure the water was compared to other lakes he saw on his other hiking trips. He took off his backpack and he rubbed his sore shoulder. The stream wasn’t drawn on the map but it appeared safe enough for him to rest on the riverbank.

“I should take pictures for souvenirs and bring them back to make postcards.” Mahiru spoke his thoughts out loud. He wondered if he could convince his friends to join him on another hike so he could show them the peaceful stream. He was a photographer and he appreciated the simple beauty of nature. With the camera on his phone, he took a quick photograph. The quality on his phone didn’t compare to his professional camera but he thought the memories captured in the image were more important.

After the long hike, he was tired and his foot felt a little sore. He slipped off his shoes and he sat on the edge of the stream. He sighed contently as he dipped his feet into the shallow water and enjoyed the cool sensation. Mahiru took out the lunch he packed for his backpack and he unwrapped his sandwich. A duck swam towards him and he pulled out a leaf of lettuce to feed it.

The duck nibbled away at the lettuce and Mahiru hoped it would stay long enough for him to take another photo. He watched the duck in the corner of his eyes as he rummaged through his backpack for his camera. It swam towards the bank across from him but Mahiru thought he would still be able to take a photo of the animal at the distance.

Mahiru pointed his camera towards the other side of the stream and he was surprised to see a group of men through the lens. What caught his attention was their strange clothes. They wore tunics and belted plaids as if they were highlanders and Mahiru assumed they were role players. They left their weapons with the horses and sat on the riverbank. He wondered whether they were locals and they would be able to give him directions to the castle. He lifted his hand to wave to them and catch their attention. “Hello?”

His voice barely left his lips before the scene in front of him became chaos. Men in armour leapt out of the bushes behind the men and ambushed them. It quickly became clear to Mahiru that they weren’t simple cosplayers with fake swords. A knight stabbed through a man and the shrill cry of metal was so loud that it reached him across the lake. The others attempted to defend themselves but it was clear that they weren’t prepared for a fight. His mind was racing to make sense of the scene before him.

Fear gripped him and it caused his body to become tense. He wanted to help them but he didn’t know what a simple photographer like him could do. Mahiru scrambled with his phone to call the police for help. Another loud clash of swords turned his attention back to the ground and he saw a man with light blue hair fighting a knight. In the chaos, he became disarmed and his sword flew into the water. The man couldn’t fight without his weapon and he was left cornered against the water.

Mahiru couldn’t explain why but the sound of the sword striking the water pulled him out of his shock. He dropped his phone and he jumped into the water. While he had never been in a fight before, he thought he could find the man’s sword and return it to him. He desperately prayed that he would find it before the man and his friends were injured. He feared to think of the other possibilities.

Despite his determination, it was nearly impossible for him to hold his eyes open in the water. His chest felt as if it were burning from the pressure of holding his breath. Mahiru searched the bottom of the stream for the sword but it seemingly vanished. He was certain that he saw it fall into the spot a few moments before. The sword should be too heavy for the waves to take it downstream as well.

He was taken by surprise when he was suddenly pulled back by a strong arm around his waist. Mahiru accidentally swallowed water as he gasped. It was difficult to know if one of the highlanders or the knights was the person who held him. He dreaded what he would see once they broke through the water’s surface. No matter the result of the ambush, there would surely be casualty for both groups.

His clothes were soaked and it caused the air to feel like needles once he was on land again. He coughed out the water from his lungs and the adrenaline slowly left his body. A hand lightly patted his back and the warm touch helped him breathe easier. He sat on the ground and he hugged his knees to his chest for warmth. He looked around him, expecting to see the bloody aftermath of an ambush.

The highlanders surrounded him yet he couldn’t see the knights he saw earlier. There wasn’t any sign of the fight either. Mahiru turned towards the man who pulled him out of the water and he recognized his light blue hair. He gripped his arm. “Are you okay? How were you able to fight off that knight without your sword? I wasn’t able to find it in the lake. Was anyone else hurt in the ambush?”

“What ambush?” Kuro’s brows furrowed at the man’s strange behaviour. He didn’t recognize the clothes he wore and the patterns on his coat didn’t belong to a noble family. He was also suspicious at how the man had suddenly appeared in the water. Despite the strange aspects of the man’s appearance, the concern in his voice was genuine.

Mahiru had to wonder if everything he saw earlier was simply his imagination. He slowly explained the events he saw in an attempt to find a hint of reason for them. “I swear I saw knights attack you. It was terrible. As soon as you put down your weapons and let your horses drink from the stream, they jumped out of the bushes to attack everyone.”

“Alec has already scouted the area and we’re the only ones in the forest.” Hyde pointed out. Kuro understood why his brother would be suspicious of the man’s claim that they would be attacked by a group of knights. Yet, something in his brown eyes drew Kuro to believe him. They were far to0 open and expressive to be lying. He scanned the bushes over Mahiru’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed when he saw the glint of metal among the leaves.

Kuro placed his hand on Mahiru’s shoulder and he leaned closer to him so he would be the only one to hear him. “I believe you. I need you to trust me as well and stay still. Don’t say another word.”

He slipped out his dagger from his boot and he didn’t take his eyes off the bushes. Kuro felt Mahiru tense beneath his hand and he gently squeezed his shoulder. He hoped he understood that he wouldn’t hurt him. If Mahiru reacted to the dagger, the knight hidden in the bushes would know that he could see him. He didn’t take his eyes off the bushes and he waited for a sign of movement.

He moved so quickly that Mahiru didn’t see him throw the dagger. With his other hand, Kuro pulled him into his chest so he wouldn’t be hurt. He heard a yell from the bushes and he knew that Mahiru had told them the truth about the ambush. Kuro jumped to his feet and he drew his sword. His siblings immediately did the same to fight the knights who leapt out of the bushes.

Kuro didn’t immediately try to fight them. He looked down at Mahiru with a thousand questions. Without his warning, he might’ve lost his family in an ambush. He let go of him and he placed him behind him, where he wouldn’t be hurt. “You don’t have a weapon so you should hide.”

“Wait,” Mahiru called to him before he could go. “Don’t fight near the water. One of them disarmed you and you lost your sword in the water. Be careful. I tried to jump into the stream to save it and it was impossible.”

“That was the reason why you jumped into the water? Go hide.” Kuro unclipped his belted plaid and he draped the large woolen cloth over Mahiru. The plaid kept him warm despite how his clothes were soaked through. Mahiru had saved their lives yet Kuro couldn’t help but think he would be troublesome.

“The king must’ve sent knights to ambush us and put more pressure on Misono to surrender his land. Without his strongest warrior, he’ll have less leverage to refuse his demands.” JeJe said after the fight was over. They restrained the men and tied them to a tree. They wanted to discuss the ambush before they returned to the castle and reported to Misono. Their conversation turned to Mahiru and how he was able to warn them about the ambush. “What should we do with him?”

“Can we trust him? He knew about the ambush and he might’ve been working with them. His warning could be a trick to make us trust him.” The suspicion in Hugh’s glare made Mahiru flinch slightly. “We shouldn’t trust him. The best thing to do is to take him prisoner and question him later. He might have information on the King and his plans.”

“When we searched him for weapons, we didn’t find any or the crest of the king. Even if he was posing as a simple peasant, he would carry something to identify himself to the knights. His clothes are strange and they’re made from a strange material. He could be from a distant land.” Hyde pointed out. “He knew about the attack yet he didn’t arm himself with anything to defend himself.”

Throughout their conversation, Mahiru had been silent. He was certain that they would deem him insane after he explained how he knew about the knights. He looked back to the men and he had to question his own eyes. They were the same warriors he saw on the tapestry. However, the tapestry was made centuries in the past and it was impossible for them to be alive.

Mahiru had travelled to the past.

His first thought was that he needed to return to his own time. He didn’t know how he was able to time travel though. Then, he saw the knights in the corner of his eyes and his worry quickly turned to how he could survive in the past. Mahiru couldn’t wield a weapon to defend himself and he didn’t have anyone he could turn to for help.

“Who are you?” Kuro was the first one to speak with him directly.

“My name is Mahiru Shirota. I can’t explain how I knew about the ambush but I promise that I’m not working with those men. I was hiking up the mountain and I decided to take a break on the other side of the stream.” He told him. When he looked up at Kuro, their gaze met and he felt calmer despite the confusing situation. “I saw you across the stream and this… vision came to me. You were being ambushed and I couldn’t sit there watching. Thinking simply, I had to help you.”

“A vision? Are you a fortune teller?” People were more superstitious in the past and Mahiru realized they believed he had powers. He didn’t predict how the simple misunderstanding could spiral into a complicated storm. He gasped when Alec gripped his arm. “We’re taking you back to our laird. With your visions, our country could win any war.”

“I can’t help you with a war. The only thing I want is to return home. Let go of me!” Mahiru tried to pull his arm out of his hold and he only tightened his hand around him. He was relieved when the man released him and he opened his eyes. Standing between them was Kuro. He had pushed Alec away from him and forced him to let go of his wrist.

“This is troublesome.” Kuro muttered but he continued to stand in front of him and kept Alec from approaching him again. “It’s late and I’m tired from fighting. We should return to the castle before the gate is raised and we’ll be forced to sleep outside. You can return to your village.”

“It’s difficult for me to go back.” Mahiru admitted and he chewed on his lower lip slightly. Until he found a way to return to his time, he needed a place to stay. He stared at Kuro and he wondered if he should trust him. “I don’t have anywhere I can go. Can I stay with you? I’ll help with the chores and cooking so I won’t be a burden.”

“You can come with us to the castle but I can’t promise that our laird will allow you to stay.” Kuro thought Mahiru appeared similar to a lost cat with his large, brown eyes. He decided to help him.

Mahiru sat in front of the stone fireplace and he watched the fire flicker. They arrived at the castle near midnight and they could have an audience with the laird to discuss the events of the afternoon. He was grateful that they allowed him to stay the night. He was given a small room and he could hear the guards in the hallway. While they were kind enough to give him a room, he could sense their suspicion towards him.

“What am I going to do?” Mahiru asked in the silent room. Whether he travelled to the past through science or magic, it would be difficult for him to recreate the scenario to return to the future. The only thing he could do was survive until he found the answer. He pulled the large belted plaid around him together and he debated over his options.

The castle would protect him if they thought he had visions of the future but they’d quickly turn against him the moment he learned he couldn’t. Mahiru had camped with his uncle a few times so he knew the basics of fishing and surviving. He wouldn’t find his answers alone in the forest though. “Maybe I can find a job in the castle and they won’t try to use me like an oracle.”

There was a knock on the door and Mahiru wondered who could be visiting him at such a late hour. He only hoped that it wasn’t Alec who believed he was a fortune teller. Hesitantly, he answered the door. Mahiru only opened the door enough for him to peer into the hall and see who it was. He was relieved to find Kuro standing in front of him. He had protected him during the battle.

“Sorry for waking you up in the middle of the night. I need my tartan.” Kuro nodded to the cloth Mahiru wore. “I must wear my family’s colours during our audience with the laird tomorrow. Traditions are troublesome but my brother will lecture me if I show up without my plaid.”

“Can I return your plaid tomorrow morning? It’s the only dry thing I have at the moment.” Mahiru nodded towards his wet clothes that were drying over the fireplace. He blushed and he pulled the belted plaid around him more. The cloth was the size of a blanket and the fabric reached his ankles even after he wrapped it around himself a few times. He couldn’t help but notice how tall Kuro was.

Mahiru glanced back to him and he noticed how his own blush was reflected on Kuro’s face. He didn’t expect to see him make such a shy and uncertain expression and he relaxed slightly. “I’m glad that you’re here, Kuro. I would like to ask you about your laird before I meet him in the morning. If I know more about the castle, I can decide what I should do.”

He stepped back and he held the door open for Kuro to enter. After a moment of hesitation, he followed him into the room and he sat next to him on the warm rug. Kuro kept a small distance between them. He was cautious of most people because he needed to fight for his survival since he was a child. His family was poor and he would accept unsavory jobs to feed his siblings. Despite that, he decided to trust Mahiru.

“I’m not from this land and I don’t know how I came here. My uncle is probably worried sick that I suddenly disappeared and… Everything is confusing.” Mahiru thought of his family in the future and his chest tightened around his heart. His uncle had adopted him when he was young and they were closer than family. “What if I never see my uncle and friends again?”

“You don’t remember how you arrived here? Did you lose your memories?” His claim was outlandish but he didn’t appear to be lying. He thought of how he first saw him fall into the water and he wondered if that led to him losing his memories. Kuro watched Mahiru’s expression and how the golden glow of the fire danced over his cheeks.

“It’s hard to explain.” Mahiru sighed. He hugged his legs to his chest and he rested his forehead on his knees. “What kind of person is the laird of this castle? Should I stay?”

His eyes didn’t hide his emotions and his warmth drew Kuro to him. “I’m not from the mountains either. My family was poor so we travelled from castle to castle for work. Most lords were cruel men who cared for nothing but their own blood. Misono is the first ruler who treated us like people and we have worked with him for five years now. You’re safe here.”

“Safe.” Mahiru echoed the word and he felt a weight fall off his shoulders. He lifted his face from his knee and he gave Kuro a soft smile. “Thank you for talking with me. I feel a little better now. Hopefully, Misono will allow me to be a chef or housecleaner rather than predicting future battles. I’m a pacifist.”

“We have that in common.” Kuro smiled for the first time during their conversation and Mahiru was surprised by how it softened his face. He was handsome with his unique features. His hair reminded him of moonlight. Mahiru questioned how he was able to have such light hair before dye was invented. “If only we lived in a time that allows us the choice.”

“The world is complicated and there will always be problems to fix. But things will improve as long as we persevere.” Mahiru reassured him and he shifted closer to him. He saw Kuro’s hand laying on the ground and he placed his fingers over his hand. “I can see a future where this country is peaceful and you won’t have to fight a war for land.”

“You’re a fortune teller so I hope that vision comes true soon.” Kuro slipped out a dagger from his boot and he laid it in front of Mahiru. “You didn’t have shoes or a weapon with you. We’ll have to make shoes for you later but take this dagger for now.”

“I’ll only take it if it means we’re friends now.” Mahiru held out his pinky to Kuro. He appeared confused by the gesture and he realized he didn’t know what it meant. He smiled at him and he wrapped his pinky around his. “Where I’m from, wrapping our fingers together symbolizes a promise. This is our promise to be friends.”

#servamp #kuromahi #sloth pair #servamp kuro #mahiru shirota #fanfiction

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 3 years

Text

Summary: Bucky’s waiting for the other shoe to drop while he lives a life he didn’t think he deserved in Romania. Pairing: Bucky x Reader Word Count: 4785 (oops?) Warnings: Some angst? Canon-level violence. Implied smut. Creative licensing. Takes place towards the beginning of CA:CW. A/N: I have been working on this for a couple of months, at least, and one time while working on it, Lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid came on. It just clicked in my head, the connection between the song and the story ... I’m honestly not sure anyone else will get that connection, but it was strong enough for me, I had to go with it for the title. A little nervous since I haven’t posted in a while and this is one of those things that means a lot to me, but fingers crossed at least one other person loves it, too! Happy Reading :)

A chilly, autumn breeze blew in through the open balcony door, pulling her from a comfortable sleep. She rolled to her back and reached for him but only found the edge of the mattress. Frowning, she forced herself to get up and search for him.

He was on the balcony, looking out over the street below. His dark brown hair was blowing in the same breeze that had pulled her from sleep. His back muscles were tense as he surveyed the city, making her wish she could take away his worries, as many as they were. She smoothed a hand over his back before wrapping her arms around him, kissing his back where she leaned.

“Bună dimineața,” she greeted. “Te gandești la mine?”

He smiled and covered her hand with his. “Good morning, beautiful. I’m always thinking of you.”

Her smile grew and she moved to his side, lifting her head as a silent request for a kiss. He obliged her, taking her face in his hands, selfishly delighting in her shiver when the cool metal of his left hand touched her face.

“You should let me warm you up,” he teased against her lips, his hands sliding down to her hips.

Y/N giggled softly. “I have to go to work, Dom. Anything you want me to bring home from the market?”

“We need vegetables,” he told her, following her into the apartment, checking the cupboards and the fridge while she did her morning business and brushed her teeth. She called over her shoulder some things they could plan for supper.

Dominik returned with the things she would need to pick up if she wanted various options when she came home while she changed her clothes for her work at the market. She worked her hair into a braid then applied some mascara and eyeliner before throwing her belongings into the small bag she brought with her when she stayed at his place.

“Okay, I think I’m ready. Will you have coffee with me before I leave?”

He nodded and offered oatmeal with her coffee, but she declined. While Dominik brewed the coffee, she sat at one end of the counter that doubled as his stove. He set a chipped coffee cup in front of her and stole a kiss before pulling a cup down from the cupboard for himself.

“Why don’t we stay at your place tonight?” he suggested. “Tomorrow is your early morning at the cafe — you need to sleep better than you do here.”

She pressed her lips in a thin line while he poured her coffee. “I sleep fine here.”

“You toss and turn more than you know, Y/N. I’m a light sleeper, I know, even when you don’t. I see how tired you are in the mornings.”

His warm hand caressed her face; she pulled it away but laced her fingers through his. “Until you’re ready to share a home with me, Dominik, I’m happy and willing to go between both of our homes. I love being part of your home, whenever you’ll let me.”

He kissed her again. “You’re going to be part of my home for a long time to come. I know I don’t have a lot to offer you, but whatever I do have, you know it’s yours.”

“Then we’ll stay here tonight.”

“Dragă, we’re staying at your place tonight. I’ll even pick you up from work and we’ll walk together.”

She ceded, finishing off her coffee before kissing him and reaching for her bag. Dominik took it from her though, handing his coat to her in place of the bag.

“It’s cold and your sweater isn’t enough to keep you warm. I’ll bring your bag when I come get you.”

With a grateful smile, she went up on tiptoe to kiss him. “I can’t wait to be done with work and back with you.”

“Me either,” he smiled. “Be careful walking to the market, please.”

She nodded and promised that she would be extra careful. “I have a very important date tonight.”

He nodded. “Yes, you do.”

After stealing one more kiss, she pushed her arms into his coat, put her keys in one of the pockets, and let herself out of the apartment.

He watched from the open balcony door and made sure that she made it across the street safely. As she always did when she left his place for work, she stopped on the opposite corner and blew him a kiss. Bucky smiled and put his hand over his heart; he had lost count over the last months how many small tokens of affection he had stored there to remember when loving her wasn’t an option anymore.

After all, Bucky Barnes was anything but stupid. He was living the dream right now, under an alias, with an under-the-table construction job, a shit apartment, and constantly looking over his shoulder — okay, maybe that wasn’t the dream, but it was about as close as a rogue supersoldier could get, Bucky figured. Y/N was far more than he deserved and not someone he expected to be able to keep in his life.

Especially considering that feeling of dread that had been plaguing him the last few days. It was as though the core of the earth itself was shaking with trepidation at what was to come next.

You’re safe, Dominik.

Her voice echoed in Bucky’s mind; it was a sentiment he almost believed, one she had said to him over and over after nightmares, when he was a little too on edge. She didn’t know the whole truth, only knew that he had come from somewhere to which he never wished to return — in conversation, memory, or otherwise. Y/N accepted that he didn’t want to talk about it and let it go at that. She would tell him again that he was safe in the present, and, despite the alias she knew him by, sometimes, Bucky believed her. Of course, he would never be safe, not really — and neither would Y/N, so long as she was with him.

Bucky filled a thermos with what was left of the coffee and made way for the construction site where he was currently working. As he erected frames for new walls, he kept his eyes on what was going on around him. Hyper-vigilant was his everyday state of being but now the trait had been intensified by that core-shaking trepidation.

“Hey, Dom,” one of his co-workers called out, “the way you’re looking around today, should we be expecting the police for you? What was your crime?”

Bucky laughed off the teasing. “Waiting for them to come and get you, Ion.”

The other man joined in the laughter, and the teasing continued throughout the day as their work continued. When the end of the work day came, Bucky punched his card and walked with purpose toward Y/N’s coffee shop in the middle of the market. He could be tense and on edge around her and she wouldn’t comment on it, would only move around him until he was ready to let her close.

And, at this moment, he wanted to pull her as close as possible and never let her go.

When the day was done, Y/N helped her waitstaff clean up the small cafe, counted down the drawer, and put the bank deposit envelope safely in her pocket. She was just locking up the place when Bucky came round the corner.

“Ah, my handsome man,” she grinned, kissing him sweetly. “How was your day?”

Bucky shrugged. “It was fine — I was building wall frames today. I like that better than digging trenches to run wire or set foundation.”

She smiled at him. “Maybe someday, you can build a house for us.”

“Maybe, beautiful. Do you need to go to the bank?”

She nodded, and so they walked hand in hand through the town until they reached the bank. Bucky waited outside while she made her deposit. While waiting on the teller, she glanced outside at him. The small movements of his head giving away his hyper-vigilance. She had seen him like this before and was hopeful that a calm evening, just the two of them, would help him to relax.

With her receipt safely in her pocket, she exited the bank and slipped her hand into his. He startled but recovered quickly, giving her an apologetic half-smile.

“You’re safe, Dominik.”

He squeezed her hand. “I know. Just the old demons coming to haunt me, I suppose. What shall we have for supper?”

She shrugged. “Whatever sounds good to you.”

They made a few stops around the market to pick up some things for supper. Y/N was friendly and talkative with all of the vendors, keeping their attention on her and not on his nervous state. He carried the bag of groceries in one hand and held tight to hers with the other, leading them toward her place. When they reached the corner though, he squeezed her hand and tugged her toward his apartment building.

“I thought you wanted to stay at my place? I don’t mind either way, but —”

Bucky nodded. “Let me just show you something, then we’ll go to your place. Fast, I promise.”

With a single nod, she agreed. He led her across the street and into his building, up the many flights of stairs to his place. After unlocking the door, he set the groceries on the counter, then tapped on a few places around the wooden floor with his boot before beckoning her over.

“I want you to count the number of steps it takes you to get from the door to me.”

Y/N raised her brow but did as he asked. She started out with her strides too long; she was overthinking the task. Bucky sent her back to the door and had her try it again. She counted as she walked, until the toes of her shoes met the toes of his boots.

“How many?”

“Doisprezece. Twelve steps.”

He nodded. “Okay. You have to remember that number. From the front door to right here, twelve steps. If something happens to me, if my past catches up and I tell you to run — if you have to run, promise me you will come here first.”

“I don’t like this, Dom,” Y/N frowned, turning away. He caught her by the hand, bringing her back with a firm but gentle hold. “You’re scaring me.”

“I know that,” he whispered, looking down at their joined hands, “but nothing scares me more than leaving you with no way out, no way to take care of yourself. Under the floorboards, if you ever need it, there are two packs — mine is black, yours is blue. Very similar, but it’s important that you grab the right one. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. Her whole body was shaking with fear now — it was the only time she had ever considered pressing him for more information about his past. With the information he needed to tell her out in the open, Bucky pulled her to his chest and apologized for scaring her.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

Bucky showered while she took a short nap. Though Y/N had asked him to wake her when he was out, he couldn’t stop himself from taking up the space next to her on the bed and watching her sleep for a few minutes.

His intention had not been to scare her when they stopped at his apartment, but he wanted her to be ready for anything. Would he tell her the truth, given the opportunity? Bucky wasn’t so sure about that, but only for fear of what she might think of him if she knew everything. The ultimate factor in deciding to only tell her what she needed to know, however, was the idea of anyone torturing her for information about him. The very thought of it made his insides twist and boiled the blood in his veins.

At the moment, though, he felt peaceful. How could he not when she was there next to him, hugging the pillow and lost in a dreamland where everything was safe and normal. Where he wasn’t anyone but Dominik; a world where Bucky Barnes and the Winter Solider didn’t exist.

“Dragă,” he whispered, running his flesh hand through her hair. “Do you want me to make dinner? You can sleep longer.”

Y/N yawned before blinking the sleep away. With a ghost of a smile, she snuggled closer to him. “Mmm, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Last time you cooked, you nearly started a fire. I’ll cook, you relax. You’ve been building houses all day.”

“And you’ve been on your feet, cooking and serving people,” he reminded her.

“And,” she started, kissing his cheek before sitting up and stretching a little, “I don’t want you to burn my apartment down. C’mon with me, you can help.”

Bucky chuckled as she stretched again, her tummy showing a little between the hem of her shirt and the top of her pants. He licked his lips, wishing they could put off supper a little longer. The rumbles in his stomach wouldn’t allow it, though, so he dutifully followed her into the kitchen, happily accepting the task of chopping vegetables.

“I was thinking,” she began as she slid a pan of pork chops into the oven, “maybe you and I should get away. Only for a few days. We don’t have to go anywhere crazy … maybe find a little place on the Greek coast, spend some time in the sun and on the beach.”

He pursed his lips. “Why do you want to get away?”

Y/N frowned and stood next to him. She gently took the knife from his hand and pushed his arm a little so he would turn to face her. When his eyes didn't meet hers, her frown deepened.

“Hey, look at me. Please.”

Bucky did as she requested; there was no frustration or anger in his eyes, only sadness. She went up on her toes to kiss him, making sure to hold his gaze the whole time.

“I don’t want to get away from you. I don’t want to get away from our life here. You’ve been tense for a while now, Dom — more tense than I’ve seen you before. I thought getting out of Romania, getting away on our own for a while, maybe it would help you relax. If you don’t want to go, we won’t go.”

“You seemed excited — it’s not that I don't want to get away with you. It’s not a good time at work, and I don’t want to disappoint you.” Every new lie he told her cut Bucky a little deeper. Staying in one place under an alias was tough enough; traveling meant putting himself on the grid. He couldn’t risk that, for either of them.

Y/N gave him a small smile. “You could never disappoint me.”

If you only knew … He had to stop thinking this way. He had her love now, no point in sabotaging the relationship. Before she could return to the stove to check the pork chops, Bucky pulled her back to him, a little harder than he meant to do.

“Sorry,” he winced. “Why don’t we look at some trips later, for a couple of months from now? Give us something to look forward to — maybe work will slow down by then. We can save a little more and really enjoy ourselves while we’re there.”

His compromise brought a real smile to her face. She reached up to his stubbled cheeks. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really?”

She squealed and kissed him again, thanking him for meeting her halfway. She didn’t linger on the subject as they continued preparing the meal together. Bucky appreciated that about Y/N — if she felt she had to push a boundary, she never lingered in that push. She made him better, made him want to be better.

Made him want to be anyone other than a supersoldier with a past he wasn’t proud of and for which he would never forgive himself.

Despite the lingering concern that his past was catching up with him, Bucky kept his spirits high for her sake. They chatted happily over supper, bantered flirtatiously while doing the dishes together, and, by the time the leftovers were put away, Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off of her anymore. His hands were on her hips as he kissed her softly and gently picked her up, setting her on the counter.

“Still hungry, my love?” Y/N teased. His kiss was soft, but she knew that look in his eye all too well.

Bucky nodded, taking her face in his hands and kissing her again, this time making his purpose clear. He always wanted her, to be truthful, but today the feeling was stronger. It had started with seeing her exposed stomach before supper and had only intensified since.

Her hands were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth. Bucky’s heart was racing; he would never get enough of her. Could never get enough of her.

“Take me to bed, Dom,” she whispered against his lips.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to lift her carefully from the counter and into his arms. She held tight to him, whispering words of love and eternal promises in his ear as he carried her to her bed. He dropped her onto the mattress before discarding his shirt, then crawled onto the bed over her. He ran his vibranium fingers over her jawline and kissed the tip of her nose. Her eyes shone up at him, a smile playing on her lips.

“What is it?”

Bucky drew in a breath. “I love you, Y/N. You know that, right? You’re the only one … it’s always been you, dragă.”

Her arms went around him, pulling him to nuzzle the crook of her. “It will always be you.”

For the rest of the night, Bucky didn’t think about his past, didn’t think about HYDRA, didn’t think about what was coming at him next; he thought only of her.

Days passed. Bucky and Y/N grew closer; he was always on edge but found his calm in her. She continued to live life as though nothing could hurt them — after all, she knew no better. With the exception of the backpacks under Bucky’s floorboards, he hadn’t given her any indication that trouble was on the horizon.

They were in his apartment that morning, struggling to get out of bed, dress, and go to their respective jobs. She was giggling at something he said, and Bucky’s smile showed his delight in her happiness.

He took in a deep breath and held her a little tighter. “Call in to the cafe today. They’ll survive without you.”

She looked at him, brow raised with surprise. “And you’ll call in to the work site today, too? The man who hasn’t had a day off since I met him?”

Bucky smiled. “I want to spend the whole day with you. Please?”

Y/N was unable to resist. “All right. But you’re out of fruit — I’ll stay home if you’ll go down to the market for fruit.”

Bucky pretended to think about, but the decision had already been made, really. He dressed for the market, she pulled on his t-shirt from the night before and got to work making coffee. Before he left, Bucky put a hand at the small of her back and hooked a finger under her chin.

“Don’t miss me too much,” he teased.

Y/N grinned into the kiss she pressed against his lips. “I always miss you when you’re not around, Dominik. Don’t be gone long.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you,” she returned in a whisper before kissing him again.

The kisses last for several more seconds, until the coffee started to flow. Bucky smiled against her lips, squeezing her side gently, and promised to hurry back. He turned back at the door.

“Anything specific you want, beautiful?”

She thought for a moment while she secured her hair in a ponytail. “Mmm, plums. Yummy, ripe plums.”

“Plums,” Bucky smiled.

The door shut and locked behind him, and Y/N went back to pouring herself a cup of coffee. She settled back on the mattress with a book she had slowly been working her way through, pulling her legs up to rest the book on as she sipped her coffee.

The lock on the front door clicked a few times as someone worked to open the door. The knob jiggled … Y/N set her book to the side and stood very slowly, careful not to make any noise. Dominik wouldn’t struggle with the door like that. He had a key to her house, a key to his place, and a couple of keys for work. She had seen him work the lock before, almost without looking.

Whoever was at the door was not Dominik.

Y/N’s favorite fruit vendor was open, so Bucky beelined for the stand as soon as he was in the market area. The plums were bright and fresh; he smiled to himself, knowing how happy Y/N would be with such a simple selection. He checked with the vendor that the plums were ripe, and selected six from the bunch. He paid for his selection and started the walk back to the back to the apartment.

There was a strange buzz about the market today. He had been so intent on pleasing his girl, he hadn’t noticed it when he first arrived.

Stupid, letting your guard down for even a moment, he chastised himself.

Frowning, he looked around and tried to make sense of the unease that seemed to be surrounding every citizen and the market like a fog. He caught the eye of the man running the newspaper stand across the way, so he detoured away from his walk home to check the paper the man was looking at between glances at Bucky.

Winter Soldier Wanted for Bombing in Vienna.

Bucky’s heart dropped to his feet. If this was already in the papers, then at least one agency would be after him — maybe had already found him by now. Knew where he lived, where he was working …

Shit. Knew where he lived. He had left Y/N alone, vulnerable. Leaving the newspaper and the plums where they were already set and nearly ran back to the apartment.

From her hiding spot in the bathroom, Y/N could see the uniformed man with a shield walk cautiously through the apartment. She winced as he approached the hot coffee in the pot; it gave away that someone had been in the apartment recently. She held her breath, wondering if he maybe knew that someone was still here.

The man approached the fridge and picked up the notebook Dominik kept there — one Y/N had not even ventured to look at in her time with him. Before the man could open the notebook, the bathroom door pushed open a few more centimeters. Y/N clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the surprised gasp that escaped her throat.

Dominik was standing there — she had not even heard him come in the apartment. His brow raised with question, she nodded. I’m okay. He held a finger to his lips, and Y/N nodded again. She wasn’t going to make a noise so long as she could help it. He turned away, pulling the door almost closed behind him.

“Do you know me?”

Y/N knew enough English to make sense of the conversation, but she frowned at other man’s words. Why in the world would Dominik know him?

Several breaths passed before Dominik replied. “You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

His English was so clear, it surprised Y/N. It sounded so natural, so … native. Dominik was from Romania though, just like she was. A million questions swirled in her mind and only continued as the conversation did.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore.”

You’re safe, Dom. You’re safe. The nerves evident in her boyfriend’s voice made her long to rush out of that bathroom and wrap her arms around him, saying the words she reserved for his most anxious moments.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now, and they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

“That’s smart. Good strategy.”

Dominik, stop! She wanted to shout at him for even implying that his death could be a better way to handle things. Heavy footsteps coming up the stairs of the apartment building caught her attention — was this going to get worse? Would either of them make it out alive?

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

Buck? Who the hell was Buck? Y/N got the feeling this wasn’t some strange American pal-around term. But his name was Dominik … wasn’t it?

“It always ends in a fight.”

Dominik’s voice was right outside the bathroom now, and she couldn’t spot him from where she was crouched. The two men exchanged a few more statements, and then the glass of the window near the balcony crashed and shattered before Y/N heard a small explosion. She retreated into the shower stall, terrified of what the sounds that followed could mean.

Objects crashed around the apartment as pounding noises warned of intruders outside the door. Y/N kept her hands hard over her mouth to keep herself from screaming, even as frightened tears flowed from her eyes and over her hands. She was terrified for her own life, but more for Dominik being in the midst of all the chaos.

She heard the groan of a man before he crashed through the bathroom door. She scrambled into the far corner of the shower stall, furthest away from him and the now open view of the bathroom, but the man didn’t move. Her breathing was coming in short, steady beats as she contemplated her next move.

Motion near the door caught her attention. Her eyes met Dominik’s for a split, too-short second. She saw love, she saw fear, she saw regret and apology. With a single nod, again confirming that she was all right, Dominik stepped away from the bathroom and pushed the fight out into the hallway.

She waited a good ten minutes to be sure that she was safe, even when all sounds stopped. The man who had crashed into the bathroom came back to consciousness, not bothering to check his surroundings before he rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs of the building.

Rushing out of the bathroom herself, she pulled on a pair of jeans and her boots, trading out the oversized shirt of Dominik’s for one of her own before donning a hoodie. She shoved Dom’s shirt into her bag, collected everything that was hers from the apartment, and shoved that into her bag, too. She made for the front door, and then she remembered.

She started at one as she counted her steps from the door to collect the backpack he had made her promise to go back for.

… Zece, unsprezece, doisprezece. Twelve steps, though the hole in the floor gave away the location. She reached down and pulled out the backpack, pushing her arms through the straps before shouldering her duffle and hurrying out of Dominik’s apartment for the last time.

As Bucky knelt on the ground, hands behind his head and waiting for the handcuffs to be locked around his wrists, he thought of Y/N. He wondered if she had made it out of the apartment, if she had remembered to take the backpack with her. If she had, he wondered what her reaction would be when she read the note he had left in there, paperclipped to a copy of his file — one that told his entire history. He was not the man she believed him to be, but the lie had created happiness for both of them. Bucky took comfort in that, at least, despite the fact that his lie had given her a front row seat to only a glimpse of the danger his past could bring to them.

But, for a short while, Bucky had felt safe. He had felt loved and felt like someone wanted to keep him close without wanting to harm him.

You’re safe, Bucky. You’re safe.

A slightly imagined memory, but one Bucky would hold onto for whatever came next in his dark, terrifying life.

AllOfTheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @gifted-burnout @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @averyrogers83 @jennmurawski13 @connie326 @disastersoldierbucky

#marvel #fanfiction #bucky barnes #reader insert #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #this was supposed to be for fluff bingo 2020 and buckvember 2020 #oops #finally finished it!

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minaslittleone · 3 years

Text

Fission & Fusion (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Summary: How did the refined and proper Wilhemina Venable end up working for two coked-up tech bros out of the back of a van?

An origin story of sorts, dedicated to the amazing @lucyintheskywithxanax who has developed such a beautiful and nuanced depiction of Mina. This was inspired by her incredible story "And I failed to climb the mountain".

Word count: ~2700

The hours after that were fuzzy. After storming out of her parents house with little more than the bare essentials and no intention of returning Wilhemina didn't really have much of a plan. She had never fantasized about running away as a child, she hadn't even been brave enough to rebel vicariously and yet here she was, with no plan and no where to go. And terrified.

But Wilhemina was nothing if not practical so she sequestered all of those doubts and anxieties down into the deepest corners of her brain to be dealt with later, she told herself. Really to be dealt with never.

Practically speaking, money was her first concern. She knew that her mother's threat to cut her off had not been idle, but she also hoped that her mother would continue to underestimate her long enough that she would be able to clear the remaining funds out of her account before her mother froze it. Her pride raged against the idea of taking the idea of taking the money religiously placed into her "allowance" once a month by her father, hating how spoiled that made her sound and wanting to be free of any lingering ties to her parents. She would have gladly traded every last dime for any other monthly ritual with her father, for anything with him really. But she was a casualty of her parents' failing marriage, the only thing that they hated more than each other was the idea of acknowledging that their marriage had long since fallen apart. Her father avoided the house like the plague, and her by extension, throwing himself deeper and deeper into his professional life to mask the failure of his personal one. And so their relationship had become almost completely transactional, her father attempting to atone for his absence by providing her with everything she could ever dream of, save for the one thing she truly wanted - his affection. But as much as she hated the money and everything it represented, she really wasn't left with much of a choice.

That was how she found herself standing in front of a bank teller at 1:30pm on a Wednesday afternoon, lying through her teeth and praying that her voice wasn't shaking as much as her hands. Exactly how she had got there she wasn't sure - a bus? Surely she hadn't walked this far - she was completely focused on getting what money she could and getting out.

The process was certainly made easier by the fact that she had been coming to this branch since her father had opened the account on her sixteenth birthday. And maybe for once in her life her twisted frame would be an asset - it was difficult to forget a girl her age with flaming red hair and a cane.

So she lied. She told the teller that she was using the money to put towards a car but that her parents were unfortunately too busy to accompany her. That part wasn't even really a lie, her parents were always too busy. Either way the teller didn't seem to see anything unusual about depositing the entire $5000 balance into Wilhemina's hand, before politely wishing her a pleasant day.

She had thought she would feel safer with the money in hand, feel like she had more control over the situation. In fact all it did was make her realise how vulnerable she was. How she would never be able to defend herself if someone decided they wanted to take it from her. Maybe her mother had been right, maybe she really was too broken and useless to survive on her own.

She could feel her heart racing. She had to find somewhere to stay. Find somewhere that she could get off the street. Maybe then she would feel safer. Maybe.

Except she didn't know how long she would need to make that $5000 last. She had no job and had effectively forfeited her degree the minute she walked out her parents' front door. Any future prospects she had were tied to their connections anyway. Oh god, what was she going to do? She had no experience and no qualifications, and any jobs that would have been open to her without those were made impossible by her twisted spine. She wouldn't have been able to stand for long enough to finish a shift as a waitress, let alone carry much whilst also maneuvering her cane.

So she would have to make the money last. At least until she managed to come up with a better plan. Which is how she found herself unpacking her meagre possessions into a battered shell of a room in a run down hotel that offered rooms by the hour. As she eased herself down onto the bed, finally allowing her back some respite after hours on her feet, she reasoned that this was the best choice for now. And she would think of something, this was only temporary.

But it hurt. The adrenaline from her triumphant exit earlier that morning was long gone and now she was left with the painful reality of what life on her own would look like. At the moment it consisted of a sea of mismatched floral patterned fabrics, a green melamine kitchenette and far too many questionable stains.

She felt like she was suffocating, that the battered walls with their pealing wallpaper were steadily encroaching on her, squeezing the last ounces of calm and confidence out of her by force. She had to get out, had to keep moving, had to keep busy lest the reality of her situation catch up to her and drown her in its melancholy.

She burst from the room, shaking fingers struggling clumsily against the lock. She had to get away, to be anywhere but here. Away from the stale smelling room with the pealing wallpaper. Away from the lumpy bed swathed in garish floral covers of questionable cleanliness. Away from the suffocating reminder of how alone she was.

It shouldn't have surprised her that she would end up back in the college library, it's where she spent most of her time any way, finding any excuse she could not to go home. It was quiet and it was safe. Between the warm, dim lighting and the earthy smell of the old wooden shelves and the books themselves Wilhemina finally began to calm. She could feel the tension to funnel out of her trembling fingers, feel heart finally stop racing and draw her first real breath in hours.

She didn't know how long she sat there, not really seeing or hearing the world around her, just being, adjusting. Letting her body and mind begin to come to terms with her situation. Start to reset her parameters and realise that she wasn't going home tonight, that there wasn't a home to go anymore. Perhaps there never had been, not in the ways that mattered.

She was drawn from her haze by the gentle but insistent whispering of her name that indicated that this wasn't the first time the owner had tried to rouse her. As her vision cleared she was met with the kind, if not slightly concerned countenance of her adviser, Professor Thompson.

"Is everything alright, Wilhemina?" She could only nod dumbly in response. "I missed you in class this morning" the older woman added. "I know you said had a specialist appointment and might be late, but I got worried when you never showed up. Did everything go ok?" Wilhemina couldn't find the words to answer, couldn't find a way to explain how her life had been pulled out from under her in the preceding few hours. Her mouth guppied in response, producing several sounds that could have been the start of ideas but nothing intelligible.

Professor Thompson's brow furrowed. Over the years that she had known Wilhemina Venable she had always been impressed by her tenacity. For all this young woman had endured, she had refused to let it define her. She was always the first present in class, sitting front and centre, attention never wavering, even on the days Professor Thompson could see the tell tale signs of pain breaking through her indifferent facade. The tension in her brow and jaw, the twitch of her lips and narrowing of her eyes at each spasm, the shifting in her seat in a desperate effort to find some level of comfort. There was a hardness, a determination in the eyes of that girl which said she refused to give up which was notably absent now, replaced by a glazed, foggy expression that made Professor Thompson's heart hurt.

"Wilhemina," she tried again, "would it be easier if we discussed this in my office?" The redhead's eyes rolled up to meet hers almost drunkenly, obviously still not entirely processing the world around her. She managed a small nod, vacant eyes focusing somewhere in the middle distance. "Here, let me take your bag" she offered, hands floating just beyond Wilhemina's shoulders as the redhead hoisted herself to her feet, swaying slightly as she found some semblance of equilibrium.

Professor Thompson couldn't help but bring a hand to gently cup Wilhemina's upper arm, causing the younger woman to finally meet her gaze. Oh and didn't it just break her heart, the pleading terrified desperation she found in those deep brown eyes. "Come on, dear" she coaxed, "this way."

Wilhemina felt herself start to come back into her own body as she sat in Professor Thompson's office, old worn leather chair beneath her and warm cup of sweetened tea pressed into her trembling hands.

Professor Thompson noticed the change as well. "Easy, dear" she cautioned, as Wilhemina's shaking hands tried to raise the warm mug to her lips. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes" Wilhemina managed to rasp.

Professor Thompson reached out her hand to rest on Wilhemina's knee, rubbing slow comforting circles. "Do you think you can me what happened? Was it something at your appointment? Do you need another surgery?"

"No" Wilhemina whispered, teeth worrying her bottom lip before lifting her eyes to the older woman, who's warm gaze encouraged her to continue. "The surgeon doesn't want to do anything, doesn't think it's necessary to do anything. My mother on the other hand is not satisfied and won't be until I look *normal*"

"I'm sure she just wants the best for you" the older woman tried.

"She wants me to stop being an embarrassment. She flat out told the surgeon she doesn't care about my pain, she only wants him to fix how hideous I look." It was happening again, Wilhemina realised, the years of repressed pain and frustration spewing out of her unbidden. "The surgeon stopped recommending procedures when I was eighteen because they weren't likely to help but my mother kept insisting because I looked so hideous she couldn't stand it. She put me through years of pain because I was so ugly and she was so ashamed of me." Her voiced cracked as the tears she had tried so hard contain broke free down her cheeks.

"She was trying to do it again" Wilhemina choked. "She was trying to convince him to operate again and I finally told her no."

"And how did she take that?" Professor Thompson asked, almost fearing the answer. Wilhemina let out a self-depricating laugh through her tears, rolling her eyes. "Wilhemina," she added urgently, gently squeezing her knee to get her attention, "she didn't hurt you, did she?"

Wilhemina stopped at that. "Not physically, no." A beat of understanding passed between the two women before Wilhemina continued. "She threw me out, cut me off, told me I was completely on my own unless I agree to have the surgery. Told me I can kiss my degree goodbye." The older woman gasped. "I told her she could have it, I was done with her controlling my life."

Professor Thompson reached out to take Wilhemina's hands, squeezing them in her own. "That was so incredibly brave." Wilhemina let out a wry chuckle "You don't think I'm completely mad?" Another warm squeeze of her hands. "Absolutely not. I think you are so strong."

Wilhemina raised her eyes again to meet those of her professor, searching them for the signs of a lie. Finding none she felt her chin begin to tremble as she fought against the tears.

She lost. The tears came bubbling out of her against her will. Tears for the years of pain she had endured, both physical and emotional, at her mother's hands. Tears for the little girl who spent years in pain trying to convince her parents that it wasn't all in her head. For her childhood that had been stolen from her. For the little girl alone in a hospital, who's parents were far too busy to visit, who was left to rely on nurses for comfort and support. For the twenty four year old woman who had just lost everything.

She curled in on herself as much as her twisted spine would allow, rocking rhythmically backwards and forwards, trying in vain to offer herself some comfort. She felt the chair next to her dip and then she was being cradled in her advisors arms - how embarassing. But try as she might she couldn't quiet the hysterical sobs.

Eventually pulled herself out of the older womans arms, trying to regain some level of dignity. Professor Thompson gave her hands one last squeeze as she let her go.

"We will find a solution to all of this" she assured "but for now all of that can wait. You need to eat and you need to sleep. You must be exhausted" Wilhemina nodded, still frantically pawing at her tear-stained cheeks. There was no point hiding anymore, not after her earlier display.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Professor Thompson asked. "You're welcome to my spare room if not"

"No it's fine" Wilhemina replied, glad to avoid imposing on her professor further. "I have a hotel room."

"Ok I'll drive you" Wilhemina tried valiantly to rebuff Professor Thompson's kindness, but the older woman would not be dissuaded. And once Wilhemina realised how dark it had gotten she was secretly grateful.

As the car came to a stop in front what currently passed for Wilhemina's lodgings, Professor Thompson took her hand once more. "After work tomorrow" she pressed "I am picking you up and you are having dinner with me. It will give us a chance to come up with a plan for what happens next. I refuse to see someone as smart and driven as you are, Wilhemina, be sabotaged by negligent parenting. We will figure this out."

Wilhemina couldn't even bring herself to try and rebuff such kindness, for how her heart ached for it. Instead all she could manage was a watery "okay" and tremulous smile. As she walked back to her room she felt lighter than she had all day, tension finally beginning to drain from her body like water trickling down her arms and plummeting from her fingertips.

Exhaustion quickly rose to fill vacancy making her limbs heavy and fingers clumsy. Almost there, she told herself as she struggled with foreign keychain, not much longer. Just inside the door and then you can rest. But try as she might her exhausted mind could not make sense of the lock nor could it co-ordinate her trembling fingers well enough to keep hold of the keys which fell limply to the concrete just beyond her door.

It was as if the universe was laughing at her, she thought, as she gingerly squatted down, bending her legs to compensate for her immobilised spine. After all the humiliation she had endured today she could not be allowed to rest without at least one more reminder of her inadequacy. So fucking useless, the voice in ear chided, so fucking stupid. Hurry up and pick up the god damn keys and open the door like a normal, functional human being. Can you manage that much at least?

And maybe she could have managed it had the hand she extended to reach for her keys not been firmly crushed into the concrete and pulled away from her by a steal-capped boot, upsetting her precarious equilibrium and sending her sprawling face first into the concrete.

"Now, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

A/N: Ok, so number one - I'm sorry (ducks). I promise I won't hurt her too much. This part wasn't even in my original plan but then the angsty little plot demons took over and here we are. Number two - for those of you who are interested I wrote Professor Thompson with Prof. Stromwell (Holland's character from legally blonde) in mind because I think she is exactly the type of tough but caring person that baby Mina would be drawn to. But also because I'm dying to see Sarah and Holland work on a project together, so this was my own vicarious little head cannon.

#sarah paulson #wilhemina venable #lucyintheskywithxanax #mina #baby mina

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bibybuck · 3 years

Text

in a car with a beautiful boy

fandom: 9-1-1

pairing: Buck/Eddie

rating: teen and up

word count: 4.3k words

summary: Buck crashed into his life, brighter than a meteorite, lighting up everything around Eddie. Life suddenly made sense. It made sense before, with Shannon and especially with Christopher, but it’s always been a little bit off-kilter, like someone forgot to remove the lens from the camera. Then Buck happened."

Chris has a birthday party to attend an hour and a half away. Buck volunteers to go with Eddie and by the time they get home, their life will have forever changed.

for @santiagosnart

inspired by and title from the quote below!

[read on ao3]

or under the cut!

“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for.”

Richard Siken

Christopher has a birthday party in San Jacinto. A fellow kid with CP, one of his best friends he made over the past couple of years. And Eddie is supposed to stay in San Jacinto for the duration of the party, but he has errands to run back home. So he drops Chris off, before heading back the same way a mere ten minutes later.

He’s used to long days, exhaustion and always being on the move. But driving an hour and a half in Los Angeles traffic, after two 12-hour shifts and a 28-hour shift covering for the B team, is just the cherry on the sundae. So while he waits at the bank, he texts Buck.

Eddie

I’m so tired… would I be a bad father if I took Chris to Abuela’s so I can have a good night’s sleep?

Buck

I think that’s what a sane father would do do you still need to head back?

Eddie

yeah in a couple of hours currently at the bank so this will take like five years

After that, Buck goes radio silent. He’s probably fallen asleep and honestly? Eddie doesn’t blame him in the slightest. If he could, Eddie would be in bed, too.

(He’d prefer to be in Buck’s bed, but those are thoughts he won’t think about while queuing at the bank.)

20 minutes later, and after he’s moved up a whole of 2 places in the line, there’s a tap on his shoulder. He thinks maybe it’s an old man wanting to jump the queue and he’s not ready for an argument. But he turns and sees none other than Buck.

“What the hell? What are you doing here?”

“Well I can’t have you drive for 3 hours on your own, can I?”

Eddie’s love for Buck grows immensely after that single sentence, something he didn’t know was possible.

He’s come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with Buck a while ago. At first, it terrified him. The world he knew, the world where he’s straight, turned upside down in the blink of an eye. Buck crashed into his life, brighter than a meteorite, lighting up everything around Eddie. Life suddenly made sense. It made sense before, with Shannon and especially with Christopher, but it’s always been a little bit off-kilter, like someone forgot to remove the lens from the camera.

Then Buck happened. The world straightened (ha!) and Eddie realised the reason it was tilted because there was a part of himself that he didn’t understand. One look at Buck and Eddie knew he was attracted to men as well, even though he didn’t understand how he could go all those years without realising.

It’s been Buck all along. When the world is crazy, when the people are losing their shit, Buck’s there. Like a tether that holds Eddie back from floating away.

So moments like this, when Buck acts kind and selfless, only make Eddie realise how much he loves him. And it doesn’t scare him anymore. It used to; he didn’t want to jeopardise the friendship he has with Buck or the relationship Buck and Chris have. He vowed to protect those, even if it gives him a broken heart. But he knows that sometimes, there’s a love so big, so overpowering that you have to gamble and risk everything, no matter the consequences. He knows that probably they could work things out. They managed to figure out a way past the lawsuit and all the other fights.

“Eddie, the line’s moving,” Buck leans in, whispering in Eddie’s ear. Eddie feels Buck’s hot breath on the side of his neck and hot damn. If they weren’t in a public place, Eddie would be turning to rip Buck’s clothes off, consequences be damned.

“Uh, thanks.”

After another 20 minutes, the bank is sorted. While Eddie talks to the teller, Buck goes to grab coffee for them. They meet back at the car.

“One latte with two pumps of mocha for Edmundo, and one Midnight Mint Mocha Frappuccino for Evan.”

Eddie makes an ‘ew’ face. “Please never call yourself Evan again.”

Buck blushes. “Yeah, it felt weird,” he says quietly, before extending his hand forward. Eddie looks at him confused. “The keys.”

“What, why?”

“Cause I’m driving?”

“Why?”

“Because you went to San Jacinto so technically you’ve been up for longer than I have. Plus, I’m younger.”

Eddie blinks at him and he has to restrain himself from lunging forward and kissing the sweet life out of Buck.

“Rude, but thanks.”

They get in, with Buck driving and pull out into the afternoon traffic. For a couple of minutes, apart from upbeat music Buck chooses, they sit in relative silence, but it’s a silence Eddie’s comfortable in.

“How’d you know where I was?” Eddie asks when they go up to the I-10.

Buck gives him a look as if he’s waiting for the punchline. “I-I-I know you. Besides, you’ve complained so much about other tellers because no one understands you like Elena or what her name does.”

Eddie nods. Yep, now that rings a bell. Still, the fact that Buck remembers something trivial warms his heart.

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course.”

Buck looks at him. He has this faint smile playing on his lips, but when his eyes focus on Eddie, it grows a little wider. His face softens. Then he catches himself, clears his throat and turns his attention back to the traffic.

Eddie wishes Buck kept staring because then his own staring wouldn’t be that out of place. And he wants to keep staring at Buck because he is the most exquisite human being.

God, Eddie is really stupidly in love with this boy.

Their trip to San Jacinto is uneventful. They talk about work, about Chris, about what’s going on in their lives. (Well… Mostly. Eddie doesn’t tell Buck about the most burning thing ever. Not just yet, even though he’s made a promise to himself that one of these days, he’ll tell him.) They talk about Maddie and the baby and just how excited Buck is to be an uncle.

“Do you want kids?” Eddie asks without even thinking, which makes Buck’s ears and cheeks turn crimson red. “You don’t have to answer that, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, uh… Yeah, I think… I mean I don’t…” Buck says, fumbling his way through an answer. “Yeah, I do. I love kids, man. I’ve always wanted to have kids but I just… I guess I haven’t found…” Buck looks at Eddie for a second. His eyes burn their way through Eddie’s soul, but then his gaze is gone. “I guess I need to grow up a bit, first.”

“I mean I’ve seen you with Chris, and man, he loves you.” Eddie needs to shut up and like right now. “You’re great with kids and you’ll be great with your own one day.”

Buck looks at him again, his cheeks still burning. “Yeah?”

“Of course.”

Eddie desperately wants to tell him that when Buck’s not around for whatever reason, Chris asks after him. Sometimes he wants Buck to tell him a bedtime story, or he wants Buck to make him breakfast. But he’s not around then. Eddie wants him to be and by the looks of it, Chris does too. Eddie wants Buck to be around 24/7, he wants him in their space, making it his as well.

They go back to discussing work and the pranks Chim’s been playing on an unsuspecting Bobby. Eddie finds out that Buck’s been helping Chim, which further confirms his Golden Retrieverness.

Buck wants to wait in the car while Eddie gets Chris.

“Don’t be stupid, he’ll be over the moon to see you,” Eddie tells Buck. Buck, still behind the wheel, runs his finger on the dashboard while chewing on his lip. “What?”

“I just…” Buck throws his hand up in the air. “I just don’t want to barge in.”

“What? Why’d you think you’d be barging in?”

“Cause it’s… It’s just…” He sighs.

“Buck, come on. You’ve never hesitated like this.”

They look at each other. Buck, his hands gripping the wheel, tightening his fist around it, knuckles going white. Eddie, outside the car, leaning against the frame, poking his head through the open door. The moment hangs in the air, as if there’s something neither of them wants to talk about or maybe they don’t even know they should be talking about.

“It’s about earlier. It made me realise that… You know what, nevermind, it's stupid. Go, get your son.”

Eddie furrows his brows. He doesn’t understand Buck’s sudden hesitation. He’s always been happy to help out with Chris. He found Carla, he picks Chris up from school when Eddie can’t, even takes him for days out.

So he gets back in the car, slamming the door behind him.

“What’s this about, Buck? Chris wants you here, you know that.”

“I know, it’s just… It’s stupid.”

Eddie turns towards him as much as the tight space lets him. “Go on, spit it out.”

“Fine.” Buck moves in his seat too. “Earlier we were talking about kids and I don’t know, it’s just got to me. You and Chris, you’re a family and… I just don’t see where I fit in the picture.”

“Buck… Come on, don’t say that.” Eddie hesitantly puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Chris loves you. He misses you when you’re not there to help him with the Lego. He sometimes wanders into the garage and asks when you’ll take him skateboarding next. He wants you there. I want you there.”

“I just feel like I’m always crashing the party, like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”

“You definitely haven’t.” Eddie gives Buck’s shoulder a squeeze. “We both love it when you’re around. Chris was excited to come to this party but he’ll be happier seeing you.”

Buck looks at Eddie. Seemingly, his eyes are a bit shinier than before. He weakly nods then his usual Buck smile returns. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Inside, there are children running around. Chris is one of them, laughing, playing with the other kids. CP has taken so much away from him but also given him so much. When he sees Eddie, he grins at him, then his eyes land on Buck. He squeals and starts running toward them. He dodges Eddie’s hug and runs straight to Buck. Buck picks him up, giving him a big hug. His and Eddie’s eyes meet and Eddie gives him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“Hey, bud,” Eddie says to his son when it’s his turn to pick him up. “How was the party?”

“It was good! We had cake, we went into the ball pit and we even had cotton candy!”

“Oh wow, sounds like you had a great time!” From the corner of his eyes, he sees a woman waving him over. “I’m gonna talk to Micah’s mom, okay? Stay here with Buck and tell him about that cool dino book we’ve been reading!”

Eddie makes his way over to her, dodging several kids on the way.

“Eddie! Hi!” Lisa says, with her overly enthusiastic voice that he just can’t get used to.

“Hi Lisa, thank you for inviting Chris to the party. He’s had a wonderful time.”

“Oh, of course! Micah keeps talking about him all the time. We should do that sleepover one time like we’ve talked about.”

“Definitely! I think it’d be good for both kids.”

She nods, her eyes wandering over to Chris and Buck. “Oh, who’s he? I haven’t seen him before!”

“It’s Buck, we work together.”

“Do you know if he’s got a special lady friend?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he feels his cheeks heating up. Lisa’s not wasting any seconds. “Uh…”

Lisa blinks at him and then it’s her time to blush. “Oh, sorry, is he your boyfriend? I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, not boyfriend,” Eddie says quickly. Too quickly.

“Really? I mean I was getting… You know what nevermind.” She gives him an apologetic smile.

Eddie really shouldn’t push it. But he does. “You were getting…?”

“I got a vibe from you just now. I have been flirting with you, you know. So have other single moms. I mean… Look at you. But nothing. We thought it was because of your divorce from Shannon, but then you waltzed in here with him…”

“Oh,” is all Eddie can say. This is a very uncomfortable conversation and he’d like to leave.

“I’m just talking silly things, gosh. Look at me, I’m making a fool of myself.”

“No, that’s… I mean you weren’t 100% wrong. There is a vibe.”

“Hmm.” She narrows her eyes. “Well, alright. Glad Chris enjoyed the party! Do let me know about that sleepover.”

“Will do, thanks, Lisa.”

He slowly makes his way back to Buck and Chris. Eddie’s head is full of chaos. He really didn’t realise he was being flirted at. He wasn’t exactly paying attention — he didn’t need to. His mind has been occupied with Buck. And if his pining is so obvious to a stranger who barely saw Eddie and Buck together, how obvious can it be to Chim? To Hen? To Bobby, who seems to know about everything, but never says anything?

How obvious is Eddie’s pining to Buck?

It makes Eddie dizzy. It’s not that he wants to hide it. He doesn’t want to bury it. But Chris has lost so much: his grandparents, his home where he grew up. Then Eddie’s and Shannon’s divorce happened. He can’t even think about giving Chris more heartache. Eddie wasn’t there at first. He doesn’t want Chris to lose Buck.

“You okay?” Buck asks quietly when Eddie sits in a chair next to Chris.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He gives a faint smile to Buck. “Ready to go, bud?”

“I’m tired,” Chris whines.

“I know. Come on, I’ll carry you.” Eddie stands then leans down to pick Chris up, but Chris is not budging. “If you want your bed, you need to move.”

“I want Buck.”

Eddie and Buck share a look. Eddie silently asks him if it’s okay, but Buck is already picking Chris up. Eddie follows them, carrying Chris’s crutches.

If he could pinpoint a moment, where he knew he was so fucking desperately in love with Buck, Eddie would say that this is it. Buck, carrying Chris to the car, holding him like he is the most precious thing ever. Chris has his head on Buck’s shoulder and he’s smiling dreamily because this is just the best conclusion to the perfect day ever. And Eddie is losing his mind because this is the life he wants to have.

So he decides, he’ll tell Buck later tonight. Consequences be damned.

As soon as Buck puts Chris down in the car, Chris is out for the count. Buck puts his seatbelt on and presses a quick kiss on his forehead.

“He really is tired, then,” Buck says. There’s faint redness in his cheeks and Eddie wonders if it’s because Buck is overthinking the fact he’s crossed a line. He hasn’t. “Not even the crazy amount of sugar can keep him awake.”

“No.” Eddie stifles a yawn. “When we’re home, can I get some food into you? That’s the least I can do for coming on this trip.”

“Can we get takeout, though? No offence, but you look like you’re ready to drop dead from exhaustion.”

Eddie nods. Buck really is the most caring person ever. He’s been so good to Chris, yeah, but to Eddie as well. “Sure, let’s go.”

Buck is driving again. Eddie didn’t even have to ask, Buck was already going to sit behind the wheel. He pulls out the parking spot, before heading back towards Los Angeles.

They barely talk for the majority of the road trip. Sometimes they point out idiot drivers or talk about work or life, but there are no big discussions. Sometimes, Buck will drum on the wheel with his fingers, as if he’s trying to say something. But he doesn’t. And Eddie’s deep in thought, writing the perfect speech in his head.

He knows that it probably doesn’t exist. The best he can do is to tell the truth and speak from his heart. He hates how cliche it sounds, but they both deserve some transparency. He’s determined to make this work, no matter what the outcome will be.

“You okay?” Buck asks quietly when they’re only minutes away from home.

“Hm? Yeah, of course. Just tired.”

“Yeah. I think I’ll sleep for the next three days.”

“Mm, sounds like a plan.”

Buck drums on the wheel again. Then a minute later he says, “Sure you okay? Other than the exhaustion.”

Eddie knows that this is it. Buck is probably giving him an opening, but giving his non-existent big speech in the car just feels weird.

“Yeah, why?”

Buck shrugs. “You’re just quiet.”

“Well, you’re not exactly a chatterbox either.”

They look at each other for a second, then Buck laughs quietly. “Right, you’re right. I don’t know, I guess I’m still thinking about that conversation we had earlier.” Buck looks into the rearview mirror, right at Chris who’s still dead asleep in the backseat. “Chris is really lucky to have you. You’re raising a good kid.”

“Well, it’s not all me.”

Buck nods. “Yeah, no, of course, Shannon’s done a good job as well.”

Eddie looks at him and feels that this is it. “I meant you.” Buck turns to look at him in confusion. “Buck, you’ve helped out more times than I can count. You’re there for me and for Chris and we’re just… We’re just so grateful.”

Eddie will forever remember the moments that follow. Silence falls on the car, but it’s a different kind. It’s not one that you’re desperate to fill in with noise, but one that’s serene. There are no words needed and why would they be needed anyway? Eddie knows Buck and Buck knows Eddie, but it goes beyond that. It’s a deep connection, formed by camaraderie, saving each other many times. Formed by friendship, by trust. Formed by love. There’s a quiet understanding between them. Eddie doesn’t know what it is or how it comes to be. It’s just the way they’re looking at each other, the way the moment holds, the atmosphere in the car. But it’s there and it’s so palpable. Everything just suddenly makes sense, even more so than before. The world has not only returned to its normal axis, but it’s now locked in.

Eddie is looking at Buck. He’s never looked away and he doesn’t want to. He feels like this is the first time he sees him: strong jaw, scars that haven’t healed properly, stubble he wants to touch. As if the mist has vanished and Buck is clearly visible now. Raw and beautiful and Eddie’s heart aches.

Buck’s looking right back at him. Buck’s eyes drop for a second, then he slowly extends his hand forwards, hesitantly putting it on Eddie’s which is just resting on his thigh. The callouses on Buck’s hand help to ground Eddie.

Buck smiles shyly and whispers, as if he doesn’t want to break that precious silence, “I love you.”

Eddie’s not jumping up and down. He’s overjoyed to be hearing those words, yeah, but after that moment they just had, he knew that this is happening. He doesn’t know why he knew, but it just made sense as if finally the last puzzle piece made it into its rightful place.

“I love you too.”

There’s faint redness in Buck’s cheeks again. “No, I meant…”

“I did too,” Eddie reassures him, then he’s determined to say those few words first. “I’m in love with you. Evan Buckley. I’ve been in love with you for a very long time.”

He feels so free now, so liberated to be able to say that.

“Oh, Eddie…” Buck’s hand gives Eddie’s a small squeeze. “I love you so fucking much. God, I want to scream it.”

Eddie chuckles. “Maybe don’t, you really don’t want to deal with a grumpy Chris.”

Buck looks at him again, then at Chris, then back at Eddie. “I do. That’s all I want to do forever.”

Buck has to look back at the road if they want to survive this journey, but Eddie wants to keep Buck’s gaze just a little bit longer.

Eddie looks out the window. This isn’t their neighbour, but Buck’s. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going home? I figured you can survive a five-minute drive home.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can survive five minutes without you. Not now that I can say ‘I love you’ to you.”

“Oh, fuck, Eddie…” Buck reaches over and laces their fingers together. “You’re killing me.”

“Not my goal, but go on, drive us home. My place, this time.”

Ten minutes later (thanks LA traffic), Buck pulls into Eddie’s driveway, just as Chris is waking up.

“Hey, bud, we’re home,” Eddie says, turning around to his son.

“Is Buck staying over?” Chris asks while rubbing his eyes.

“Uh,” Buck says, but Eddie quickly jumps in.

“We’re gonna get some food, you hungry?” To this, Chris just shakes his head. “Alright, shower, teeth, and bed.”

“But daaaad, I’m too tired!”

This time, Eddie will let it slide. “Alright, brush your teeth and bed.”

They all get out, making their way towards the house. Inside, Buck and Eddie go to the kitchen, Chris goes to the bathroom.

“I’m surprised he isn’t jumping on his bed after all that sugar,” Buck says.

“So am I. I guess he had loads of fun in the ball pit.”

Eddie goes to grab two beers. He hands one to Buck. He also doesn’t know why he’s feeling so awkward suddenly. They got over the most difficult part and it was fine. More than fine.

Eddie is about to open his mouth, when Chris yells, “Buck!”

Both Eddie and Buck run to the bathroom. Chris is not there and panic hits Eddie in the chest. But then they look across the hall and see Chris sitting on his bed, already wearing pyjamas.

“Chris, you scared us,” Buck says, dramatically putting his hand over his heart. “I don’t know if I’ll survive this.”

This sends Chris giggling. Eddie walks over to his son and presses a kiss on the top of his head. “You okay, buddy?”

“Dad, can Buck read my bedtime story?”

Eddie looks at Buck. Buck nods and goes to Chris’s bookcase. “What do you want to read?”

Eddie decides to leave Chris and Buck to their own devices. He feels like this is a time just for the two of them. “I’ll order us some food,” he says to Buck quietly.

Before he leaves, he watches Buck climb next to Chris, the book already open in his hand. Buck gives him one last look before he starts reading.

Eddie goes back to the kitchen, quickly ordering some burgers. He orders Chris some as well, knowing full well that he will wake up in about two hours saying that he’s hungry. He always does.

Once it’s done, he leans against the counters, sipping on his beer. Would it be this easy? To have this life? To have Chris and Buck? Because this is what Eddie wants. Today, tomorrow, forever.

What he and Shannon had was good — then it wasn’t. But they had Chris, and he wouldn’t change the past for anything. He doesn’t know what this is. He doesn’t know if it’ll last with Buck. He hopes that it will. He’s learnt from his past mistakes and he’ll put everything into making it work. He wants to keep this going, whatever this may be.

And he knows that if (when) they tell Christopher, that little boy will be over the moon. Chris loves his dad, but he loves Buck just as much. And lucky for Eddie and Chris, Buck loves them.

“He’s out,” Buck says quietly, as he walks into the kitchen. “Took me shorter than expected.”

Eddie doesn’t know where it comes from, but he has an urge to say something. “I know we haven’t had a discussion about us, but… I know how much you love Chris and we love you too. You’re a part of the family and I think you have been for a long time but it took me a minute to catch up. I know this is too soon and I’m not expecting an answer now. We don’t even know if we’ll work out, but if we do, I want you to know that you have the option of becoming Chris’s dad. Officially. ‘Cause, you do act like it and he looks at you as if you were his dad, too. I just want you to know that it’s there for the future.”

Buck freezes for a moment as he processes it, then he lunges forward, kissing Eddie. His hands cup Eddie’s jaw as Eddie puts his fingers in Buck’s hair.

The kiss… It’s passion. It’s anger. It’s lust. It’s desire. It’s need, want, belonging, hope, home. It’s past, present, future. It’s everything. It’s love.

#911 #buddie #911 fox #911 on fox #buck #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #buddie fic #911 fic #evan buckley #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #mine #this time for the proper link!#(i hope)

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