#BUT I HAVE A LOFT BED. ARE YOU SEEING THE ISSUE.

[beegswaz]

guys ill Be real i dont know how Much longer i can stay silly.

[loulovingho]

Make It Ours

aka the one where Tommy asks Buck to move in

It started a little ridiculously. Buck didn't usually decorate his place for Halloween, but in his excitement over Bobby being back he'd gotten way too much for the firehouse and had a lot left over. So he took some paper bats home and hung them from his ceiling.

That should have been the end of it.

“We've got enough candy for a small army, I'm sure,” Buck said, resting his head on Tommy's chest, a hand softly rubbing over his pec.

“We don't really have any kids that come out to Harbor. A few of the kids whose parents are on shift will stop by, but that's about it.”

“Were you a Halloween fan growing up?” Buck asked, chills running up his spine as Tommy's fingers massaged his scalp.

“Oh yeah. We didn't really have the money to afford costumes, but I'd make stuff from old sheets or clothes that didn't fit me anymore. There was one year where-” Tommy stopped suddenly, and Buck looked up at him to see him staring out over the loft. “Are your bats animatronic?” he asked.

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Tommy nodded his head in their direction. “They're moving.”

“Oh,” Buck glanced back briefly. “Probably the air coming on. Makes them swing sometimes.”

Tommy halfway settled back into the bed, but it didn't last very long, because soon enough one of those “decorations” started flying directly into the bedroom. Then there was another, and another.

“Evan, you have bats!” Tommy exclaimed.

“I- oh my God, I have bats!”

Ironically, Tommy did not love all things that flew. Buck had known this since they went to the zoo two months into their relationship and ventured into the butterfly exhibit. That's when he saw Tommy dripping with sweat, barely taking a breath and clutching Buck's hand until he asked what was wrong.

And now, watching a 6'2 man made mostly out of muscle race to put on a shirt and shorts, foregoing underwear completely, so he could duck out of the loft with a yelp was truly fascinating.

The fact that he only stopped briefly to give Buck a kiss and tell him to grab his things and meet him at his place was the icing on the cake.

That man was inside me twenty minutes ago, Buck thought, a baby bat swooping above him. He felt nothing but pride.

Within an hour, he was bringing a suitcase and work duffel into Tommy's place. Tommy, on his part, had emptied him two extra drawers to go along with the one he already had there. He'd made space for him in the bathroom as well, and cleared a section of the kitchen counter because, “I figured you'd bring some of your cooking stuff with you.”

He wasn't wrong.

It took a few weeks for the bat issue to be resolved, due to the fact that Buck's landlord was out of town and no one else seemed to know what to do.

Once the place had been cleared of the bats, it took extra time for Buck to be able to air out his place and clean the droppings that had been so graciously left behind.

It didn't help that he had a pretty busy schedule, taking extra shifts before he knew he'd have a bat problem.

Eventually, Buck ran out of reasons to keep himself at Tommy's place.

One morning, as he got ready for his 24 and Tommy got ready for his 48, he decided it was time. “I think my place is now free and clear of everything the bats left behind,” he said, pouring coffee into Tommy's travel mug, then swapping it out for his own. “I'll be able to pick up all my stuff after my shift and get out of your hair.”

“Hm," Tommy hummed. "You should just move in here." It was so nonchalant it sounded the same as when he ordered his usual from the taco bar down the street.

Buck froze mid pour. “I- I should what?”

“Move in with me,” he repeated with a shrug, “if you want.” He walked over to Buck and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Think about it, Babe. I gotta go. Love you.”

“Yeah, I- I... I love you too.”

Tommy grabbed his mug off the counter and headed out the door, leaving Buck feeling like a deer in headlights.

Part of him wanted to chase Tommy out the door and ask, “How dare you ask so casually?!” The other part was eternally grateful Tommy exited briskly and gave him time to think it over.

Because, wasn't it too soon? He'd only ever done this moving in together thing one other time, and that wasn't exactly for a good reason.

They'd only said I love you for the last couple months. The words still sounded new, still made his heart swell every time they came out of Tommy's mouth. Still blushed when he said it back.

And did Tommy actually mean it? He did have a dry sense of humor that was sometimes easy to miss. Maybe this was one of those times. It was just a joke and he was meant to brush it off with a laugh.

He wasn't sure how long he actually stood there with a half filled mug of coffee in front of him, but eventually his phone dinged and pulled him out of his thoughts.

Stop panicking. Yes, I meant it. Seriously, just think about it.

Buck rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile that rose on his face.

Hate you. Be safe.

He only had to wait a few seconds for a reply.

Love you too. You be safer.

*****

“I'm kind of freaking out,” Buck said as Maddie grabbed her lunch from the fridge.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“Tommy asked me to move in with him.”

She paused briefly, eyebrows going up as she stood at the counter. “Really?”

“Yeah, yeah. Wh- Why really? You think it's too soon, don't you? It's too soon. That's what I thought when he asked, well suggested is more like it. He suggested I move in, and then told me to think about it, and then he left for work and then I left for work. And he told me not to panic and that he actually meant it, but-”

“Buck, I didn't mean anything by my really,” she interrupted, reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Honestly, I figured that was gonna happen once you stayed with him during the whole bat thing.”

“Really?” he asked, surprised. “I- I mean, you did?”

“You already spend more time at his place than your own. The bats were taken care of, what, almost a week ago?”

“Yeah.”

“And how many nights have you stayed at your place since then?”

“Well... Well, I had to work a couple of those days,” he tried to reason, “and then it made more sense to go to his place because we wanted to see each other but we were both tired from work.”

“You don't have to explain yourself, Buck,” she assured him. “I'm only saying it's not actually all that surprising.”

When Buck didn't look any more relieved than when he'd come into the call center, Maddie continued, “Have you made a pro/con list?”

He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and laid it on the countertop for Maddie to take. “Of course I did.”

She picked it up and read it over. “Great butt is number three? Did not need to know that.”

“It- It's a very detailed list,” he replied seriously.

“I can see that,” she agreed. “Although I can't help but notice there are no actual cons on this list.” She slid the paper back to him.

“That's why I'm freaking out.”

“Is this a bi crisis?” Josh asked, walking into the break room. “Because, if so, I feel like I should be involved. Also, I've been listening and I have something to say. May I?”

Buck nodded his head, resting his hands on the countertop. “Please. I- I could use all the help I can get.”

“Great. First of all, why are you trying to talk yourself out of it?”

“Because... Because, seven months ago I didn't even know I was bi, and then there was Tommy. And it's been great. He's funny, and kind, and he listens, and he's so hot-"

"Okay," Maddie waved for him to move on.

"Even when we argued, you know, we stuck around and worked it out. It's the healthiest relationship I've ever been in. It's the happiest relationship I've ever been in.”

“God, this sounds awful,” Josh deadpanned.

“Yeah, listen, Buck, if you don't want him I'll take him,” Maddie added with a smile. “I don't think Howie would mind.”

Buck grinned. “I'm just saying, it all seems so fast. I keep trying to think of reasons to say no, or wait a few more months, but I- I can't.”

“Okay, maybe you can't think of a reason to say no, because there's no good reason to say no,” Josh replied. “How's it been staying with him while the bats took over your place?”

“It's... It's been great. I thought there would be a big adjustment, but there really wasn't. He hasn't seemed bothered by my stuff being there, and it's been nice having someone to, ya know, come home to,” he added, a blush rising on his cheeks.

“Have you had any of the big conversations yet?” Maddie asked. “You know, kids, marriage, stuff like that?”

“Mhm. We agree on everything.”

Josh glanced at Maddie before replying. “I really don't see the problem here, Buck.”

“You don't think it's too soon?”

“I think,” Josh sighed. “I think life is really short, which you probably know better than anybody. And if Tommy makes you as happy as it sounds like he does, then you're the only one stopping you from that happiness.”

Buck rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a deep breath. “Sometimes, I still feel like a fraud,” he admitted. “Like it all came too easy. You know, I- I've heard how rough it was for Tommy to come out and all the crap he went through for years. I figure out I like guys and get a boyfriend in the same day, six months later he's asking me to move in and I can picture my entire life with him.”

“I think that's your brain messing with you,” Josh said. “Because to me, it sounds like you've had thirty-three years of searching for something that feels real, and good, and settled. And you've found it with Tommy.”

Maddie nodded. “I agree. He's good to you, Evan. Everyone can see you two love each other. I can honestly say I've never seen you happier or more sure of yourself. You don't need to doubt that. You need to let yourself have a win.”

A smile started to grow on Buck's face. He was pretty sure he'd already made up his mind, but there was still one thing that worried him. “What if it doesn't work out?”

“Then you do the opposite of what you're about to do,” Josh answered simply, “and you move back out.”

*****

Tommy already knew Buck was at his place before he got inside. The giant Jeep in his driveway was always a dead giveaway.

Half of him expected Buck's things to be neatly packed up by the door, ready to move back into his loft until his lease was officially up.

The other half expected him to be sitting on the couch with a downcast look on his face that said I'm not ready to move in with you without having to actually say it.

What he didn't expect was the door to swing back on him due to it slamming into boxes.

Once he managed to hold the door open and scoot inside, he looked around at well over twenty boxes that were littered around the entryway of his place, leading into the living room.

“Evan?” he called out, a smile already on his face.

“Here!” he exclaimed, exiting Tommy's bedroom and hurrying down the hall. “Here, I'm here! So-” Buck paused briefly to give Tommy a peck on the lips, then continued through the maze of boxes as he headed for the kitchen, Tommy following behind. “This isn't everything, obviously, but I don't actually think I'll be bringing all that much from my place. The bats pooped on a lot. Like, a whole lot. Plus, I like your furniture. The kitchen will have to have some new appliances, but I already ordered what the bats, you know, pooped on. You need to let me know what appliances have a family history for you- if that's a thing- before I throw them out. Some of this stuff is, well, it's terrible. Why don't you sharpen your knives, Tommy? Mind blowing. I know the boxes are kinda a mess, but I didn't want to unpack without you because that feels like me just taking over, ya know, and I don't wanna-”

Buck was stopped by Tommy grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him in close. He wrapped his arms around Buck's waist, and Buck's arms rested over Tommy's shoulders.

“I'm guessing this is a yes to moving in?” Tommy asked, nose scrunching up in a smile.

Buck let out a deep breath, grinning back. “Yes. It- It's a yes.”

“You didn't freak out too much?”

“I didn't freak out at all,” Buck protested weakly.

“Evan.”

“Okay, I freaked out a little,” he replied, ducking his head, “but not for the reasons you think.”

Tommy tilted Buck's chin so their eyes met. “What reasons?”

“I... The fact there wasn't a reason to say no. I- I freaked because it felt like it should feel too soon, but it didn't. It doesn't. It feels right.”

That's when Tommy leaned in for a kiss far less chaste than the one Buck had given him when he opened the door.

“Do we have to start unpacking tonight?” Tommy asked when they parted, resting their foreheads against one another.

Buck shook his head. He brought his hands to the nape of Tommy's neck and drew him in again, his tongue parting Tommy's lips. Clumsily, they began making their way toward their bedroom without letting one another go.

“Maybe we could work on christening the place then?” Tommy suggested, his nose brushing up against Buck's cheek. “For good luck or whatever.”

“Mmm,” Buck moaned, grabbing at the hem of Tommy's shirt and pulling it over his head quickly, tossing it on top of a box. “You have the best ideas, roomie.”

Tommy snorted at that, his head tossing back in laughter. “God, I love you.”

Somehow, they managed to make it to the bedroom, and Buck gently pushed Tommy down before crawling over him, leaning down to whisper against his lips, “I love you too.”

[kinardsevan]

the rhythm of your heartbeat

The first time it happens, Tommy wasn’t even supposed to be there. He’s coming off from a twenty-four-hour shift and Evan’s been sick for four days with the flu. Initially, they had avoided one another because of the illness. Still, Tommy had decided midway through his shift that he couldn’t go another day without seeing his boyfriend, which is how he found himself tiptoeing into Evan’s loft at eleven PM. 

The apartment is fairly dark, and mostly silent except for some ambient sound coming from the TV in the loft. He toes his shoes off at the door and then heads up the stairs, walking up them as quietly as possible. As he comes to the top of them, he can see Evan curled up facing towards the stairs, snoring softly. He drops his work duffel near the side which he’s claimed as his. 

He ducks into the ensuite bathroom and slips out of his clothes, dropping them into the hamper. They spend enough time between each other’s places at this point that all the laundry gets washed together. Granted, there have been a few items Evan conveniently fails to return, but Tommy’s not complaining. 

He slips back into the bedroom in just his briefs and stops at the dresser Evan recently invested in. The younger man has enough clothing and other accessories to take over his entire closet, and when sleepovers started becoming more common, he wanted Tommy to have space as well, leading to said purchase. 

The fresh laundry is still in the basket on top of it, and Tommy pushes a few things around before pulling out a clean t-shirt and sweats, both of which Evan has commandeered for himself in the last round of laundry. He slips into the clean clothes before walking back around the bed and sliding into it. Evan doesn’t stir, but still lets out a soft sigh, as though he’s aware of Tommy’s presence then. 

He’s midway through a news article on wildfires in Australia when it starts. At first, it’s just a few twitches, which leads him to card his fingers through Evan’s hair as he has on so many nights before. However, instead of that calming him down, it seems to only exacerbate the issue. Instead of settling, he starts to thrash in the blankets and begins clawing at his throat. 

“Evan,” he murmurs, setting his phone aside and sliding down on the bed as he shakes his shoulder. “It’s a nightmare, baby.” He pulls gently at Evan’s hands to keep him from hurting himself while his other hand remains in his hair, still trying to calm him. He’s babbling incoherently, but Tommy can hear the panic rising in his voice. Tommy shakes him again, this time a bit more firmly. Evan’s hand shoots up, but Tommy catches him by the wrist before he can hit him. “Evan.”

His eyes flutter open and he glances at Tommy, and then his wrist in Tommy’s grip. Tommy smiles solemnly at him, releasing his grip on his arm. 

“Hi,” he says softly as Evan reorients. “You’re okay. You’re awake now.” 

It takes a minute for Evan to collect himself, and then he’s curling himself into Tommy as a strangled cough escapes him. 

“Hey,” Tommy cooes, wrapping his arm underneath Evan. “It was a nightmare. It’s okay.” 

Evan shakes his head as he stays curled up in Tommy’s sizeable arms. 

“It was the lightning strike,” Evan murmurs, his voice shaking. 

Tommy shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything. He’s certainly had his brushes with death, but never to the point where his heart has actually stopped beating. 

“I got you,” Tommy murmurs, pressing his lips into Evan’s hair. 

—

The second time it happens, it’s the one time of year when California gets hit with rain, and it’s been coming down in LA for well over a week. They’re both coming off a shift and Tommy has planned a weekend at home for them. He’s first to get off and their schedules haven’t lined up in days, so he pulls out all the stops. He orders in from the Italian restaurant they had their disastrous first date at, but has since become one of their favorite spots. He also has fresh flowers delivered, Evan’s favorite movie queued for after dinner, and if he’s really feeling energetic…the bathtub jacuzzi is freshly cleaned. 

But things do not start well. When Evan arrives, he’s on the razor’s edge of a panic attack, having had another lightning strike be the 118’s last call of the night. Plans get rearranged and instead of dinner and a movie with the option for a bath to end the night, the bath starts the evening…with Tommy outside of it. And it’s not like he cares that much; it matters more to him that Evan is okay than it does that they bathe together. 

After the bath, though, Evan is clearly spent both physically and mentally. Tommy decides to table their evening for the next night, and after tucking Evan in, he proceeds to clean up everything he had laid out for their date night. 

It’s as he’s coming out of the shower across from his room that he hears him. He’s crying in his sleep; no, actually, he’s damn near wailing. That same panicked tone has wrapped itself all the way around his throat and he’s kicking and clawing out of the blankets like the bed is trying to take him alive. 

Tommy storms across the hall in nothing more than a towel, water still dripping out of his hair, and practically yanks the blankets off of Evan as he stammers “Wake up, baby. Wake up, wake up, wake up.” 

Because this time it’s fucking terrifying. 

He’s shaking his shoulders with a vigor he’s previously only used on unconscious victims on a call, and he barely manages to catch Evan’s fist as it comes flying out towards him this time. Evan damn-near jackknifes in the bed as his eyes shoot open, his most recent panicked breath still caught in his throat. When his eyes finally meet Tommy’s, there are tears in them. 

“S-sorry,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to the bed. “N-nightmare.” 

Tommy shakes his head as he reaches up and wipes the tears from his own face before pulling Evan into him. They cling to each other as though letting go might end either one of them. 

“That was a night terror,” Tommy replies, his voice gravelly. He turns his head towards Evan’s, burying his face in his hair as he kisses his temple. Evan shifts his head a moment later, resting his cheek against Tommy’s shoulder as his breathing evens out. They sit in silence for a beat, Tommy rocking them gently back and forth

“So tired,” Evan murmurs after a few minutes, his voice laced with sleep. 

Tommy nods, kissing the back of his head. “I know, baby. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.” 

—

The third time it happens, they had passed out in Tommy’s bed after a movie date following two long shifts. Tommy is woken from a dead sleep from Evan jerking underneath him, trying to get away from whatever it is that’s scaring him. They’re spooned together, but Evan has already escalated from twitching to jerking by the time Tommy is awake enough to realize what’s going on. 

“I don’t want to,” Evan whines, and it’s the first time Tommy’s heard him say something intelligible in these night terrors. He rolls his boyfriend onto his back, still trying to shake the sleep from his own head as he tries to wake him. 

“Come on, baby,” he states, still weary. “Wake up.” 

“Don't go. I'm coming,” Evan whimpers. His hands shoot out and Tommy catches them, pushing them aside as he continues to shake Evan by his shoulders. Still, he’s not responding. And just like last time, he’s becoming more frantic by the second. 

“Please.” The sound of his voice makes Tommy feel like someone is physically breaking him into pieces the the sheer begging in his tone. His own throat is tight, watching the man he loves struggle like this and not even be conscious and capable of stopping it. 

“Damn it. Evan, wake up,” he growls, his throat burning with tears that are threatening to fall. Evan’s fist flies up, and this time, Tommy isn’t quick enough. The punch lands on his jaw, but the connection also wakes Evan, and when his eyes open, Tommy is looking down at him with his hand on his face where Evan has just struck. 

“Oh god,” Evan mutters. He’s only half-awake, and yet entirely aware of what’s just happened. “Tommy, I’m-…I’m s-so sorry.” He slides off the bed and backs himself towards the wall before sliding down against it, his eyes darting around the room. 

Tommy frowns, stroking his jaw a few more times before he stands and circles the bed to Evan’s side. He sits down on the floor next to him and slips his hands behind Evan, around his waist. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs softly, pulling the younger man into his lap. As he does, Evan curls into him, and for someone the same height as him and maybe 50 pounds lighter, Evan has never felt so small to him. 

Tommy slips his left hand between both of Evan’s, up towards his face until he has his jaw in his hands. He turns Evan’s face towards him, presses their foreheads together. 

“My jaw isn’t made of glass,” he murmurs as Evan rocks back and forth in his lap. Evan nods, but he won’t open his eyes, even as tears slip out of them. 

“Oh babe,” Tommy murmurs softly. 

For a while, they stay in that position. He doesn’t push Evan to talk, or ask unneeded questions. They sit in silence as Tommy lets Evan process. Still, when he can tell the tears have stopped, and Evan’s breathing has returned to normal, he has to ask. 

“What’s the nightmare about?” 

Evan rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder, traces his thumbs over the veins on the back of Tommy’s hand where he’s holding in between both of his own. 

“The lightning strike,” he replies. “But I’m at the top of the ladder, and I look down, and you’re standing there, telling me to come down. And when I try to, that’s when the lightning hits. I try to get to you, but I can’t move. And when I finally can again, you’re gone.” 

Tommy takes a deep breath, fully aware of why that would be so upsetting, even just from his side of the story. He’s thanked every diety under the sun since he day he realized he was falling in love with Evan Buckley that the man didn’t stay dead after that lightning strike because he can’t imagine a version of his life that doesn’t have Evan in it. 

“Look at me,” he murmurs softly, bumping his nose up against Evan’s forehead. The younger man lifts his head, catches Tommy’s eyes. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he tells him softly. “At this point, you’re stuck with me, come thunder or lightning, rain or shine.” 

Evan lets out an audible sigh and closes his eyes, leaning into Tommy. There are more tears threatening to fall, but he breathes through them as he pulls Tommy’s hand into his chest, placing it over his heart before wrapping both of his arms around it. Underneath his grip, Tommy can feel the thumping of Evan’s heartbeat, and its a feeling he’s grateful for. More than that, it’s a feeling he can’t imagine having ever previously lived without. 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

NOBODY'S SON, NOBODY'S DAUGHTER (VI)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER VII

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 7.0k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking & stalking behavior, creepy men, talks of death, weapons, toxic modeling standards, food issues, dead animals, talks about gore, symptoms & descriptions of dissociation, scars and mentions of intense medical procedures, etc. (Series 18+)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you. 

Nikto stands in the bathroom connected to the library—at the very end of that train car-like set-up of your loft rooms. His fingers move to the straps of his Kevlar, peeling them off as the loud tearing sounds echo in his ears. 

He can hear you stumbling about in your room, too. Getting ready for bed. Blinking, Nikto grunts as he thinks over your comment from when you first showed him around. He hadn’t been able to get it out of his head since you’d said it. 

Well, I guess brain damage will do that to you.

The man’s vest is taken off, hitting the floor in a heap. Next follows the clips of his thigh holster, and the belt buckle in the loops of his pants. Each joins the pile with a slap of material. 

“Brain damage,” Nikto grunts. 

It wasn’t something he should be worrying about—in fact, it was at the very bottom of the long list of things that even mattered. First was your safety, then the identity of this pathetic individual who was infatuated with you. But it stuck with him nonetheless. 

He’d never had to look after someone with this affliction before. The stumbling; the shakiness. But he’d gone through worse. Yet, at the same time, it was far larger than just his assignment. In his own way, Nikto was…appreciative that you seemed to at least listen to him most of the time. And you were easy to talk to. 

There was a sort of kinship there, as well. In broken things. Maybe that was why he felt himself growing to you.

Striped down to nothing but his mask, the Russian glimpses himself in the mirror and stills. He was always struck by it. 

How something could be so brutally ugly.

Scars ran so tightly over his skin that it was indented like a fissure in the earth. Pieces boldly sliced away and chunks missing. The muscled bulge of his stomach was cut up—thighs with such horrors as cigarette burns and the remnants of tattoos that were carved away like hog’s flesh. That’s what he was, Nikto knew. A hog tied to the ceiling and ready to be butchered. 

He looked at himself now like he was through the lens of a movie, like the ones he would watch as a child—it was far away from him, the edges blurred as his reflection shifted; another being entirely. 

A hand comes up—his hand—and it presses into the material of his mask, large fingers shifting over black coloring as the pale blue of his eyes stares back. None of it felt real. Nikto’s head tilts, but he does not feel the bones in his neck move, only the acknowledgment that they had to have. 

The dark ink of the tattoo over his back peaks itself into existence, the starting of obsidian over his shoulders. Nikto shifts his top half as if seeing it for the first time, unblinking eyes taking in the visage of a snarling bear locking gazes with him. At the side of his left shoulder, the sigil of his old unit burnt his skin. 

“New,” he utters, voice tiny and hoarse. “Gotten after.”

He already knew that…why was he repeating it like he had forgotten sitting in that tattoo shop’s chair? Nikto’s eyes clenched shut, hand coming back up to his masked head and pressing over it. 

He was not beautiful, and no one would ever call him such. He didn’t want them to because it would always be a lie.

With a low growl, his fingers grip his mask and rip it off of his head. 

The thing slaps against the marble of the counter, hitting with a hard clack of the coated synthetic fiber, sliding over the top until it hits the toothbrush cup and causes it to fall on its side. 

Nikto can only stare at the person in the reflection as the sounds swirl in his ears—a world away. 

There’s so little of him left that he recognizes that it scares him. 

Grinding his jaw, Nikto’s pale eyes slip down the length of the damage. His dark hair is cut close to his head, strong bones in his nose and brow above the deep sockets of his eyes—the glare of black and blue bags gives way to his lack of sleep. The wideness of his cheeks leads to a sharp chin; a square face overall. 

But the marks. 

The hyperpigmentation.

Half of a Glasgow Smile peels the flesh back like a tear in paper, and a line is sliced staring at his right ear and curving in a half-circle down to his jaw. Into his hairline, three ragged cuts that had been very badly cauterized to stop him from bleeding out, the hair never able to grow back properly. His neck is the same—a red scar the size of his forearm wrapping from behind and crossing it, little slivers breaking out like a tributary. 

He still wasn’t sure how he survived that one, but then again he hadn’t in the long run.

Nikto’s heart had stopped after all.

There’s a knocking at the door, and the man flinches violently—head twitching to the side. 

“Nikto?” Your voice is muffled by the wooden barrier, and the Russian’s breath is ragged before he blinks away the distance in his expression. “...Are you alright in there?” 

He clears his throat, feet shifting over the plush purple rug you had on the floor as his fingers twitch with tight nerves. But your voice distracts him, fractured brain slowly coming back into focus. 

“We are fine,” his voice is harder than he intends. More snappy. 

Nikto’s eyes find your shadow under the bottom of the door, your feet moving and re-setting as they usually do. He sees you pause. 

“Alright,” your voice calls. “If you need anything, just ask me.”

He watches you stand there for a few seconds longer before your shadow moves back and disappears. Torn ears twitch to your receding weight, eyes beady like a feral dog’s. 

Nikto’s bare body is frozen until he finds himself moving to turn on the water to the hottest setting, stepping into the stream with a hiss and a snap of teeth at the burn. He only turns it hotter. Thinking. Wondering. 

Brain damage.

—

“I can never see color,” you say into the air bluntly, watching the man tie his shoes. He freezes. “Just thought you should know.”

Your eyes see Nikto blink, a silent moment passing between you two before he looks up slowly, brows pulled in and lids crinkled. 

“...Что?” 

Something swirls in his vision, a deep intrigue and another that’s harder to name. Hidden. Kept under lock.

“I can never see color,” your voice reiterates, trying to put on a show that the only reason you were saying this was because you wanted to—a sign of trust. 

In reality, it was a stepping point. 

A small test even if you felt your face heating—growing hotter by the second. “Same accident that caused my brain damage.” You smile softly, motioning a hand to your head. “Even if I find my soulmate, I won’t be able to tell. Weird, huh?”

It was two hours after your phone call with Yaromir and Galina, and there wasn’t much to dwell on from the two. You’d talked about DNA, Sergi, and why no one was taking your claims seriously. 

All they chose to tell you was that they needed more to build a case off of. Galina was still trying to get DNA samples, and without that or a large break that gave you any idea about who could do this, you were in the dark. All they had was a partial fingerprint on one of the plastic bags. 

Excuses were all you got by the very frustrating end, and your hope had dwindled on every pause over the line, your phone on the coffee table and Nikto watching silently as he placed breakfast in front of you with a firm hand. He’d been quiet today, even more so than usual. You’d even given him more tea last night, though the cup was once more washed and set back by morning. 

And he was stiff too. Tense. 

Today, you made a firm decision to go back to AMA—not because of your shift. You had no intention of staying in that building even if you knew you should; this was a quick visit. You needed to discuss a large gap in your schedule with the CEO, one that had only shown up in the small hours of this morning. 

You really hoped the explanation wasn’t because you were being fried.  

Nikto is still, watching every beat of your pulse and how your fingers play with themselves in front of you. His chest is frozen, eyes unblinking as the paleness of them is similar to a knife’s edge. In your internal fight, you hadn't noticed how long he’d just been watching you…dead to the world of the living. His gaze was so intense once you did realize, that you cleared your throat softly as an awkward uncomfortableness built on your expression. 

Perhaps today wasn't the best time to test your theory.

The man’s fingers twitch, he stands up to his full height, and then moves into the elevator without a single sound. 

Your heart gets stuck in your throat, blinking as you make a confused noise. 

“Nikto?” You turn after him. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Calling, your feet shift over the rug of your entrance, seeing the void of white as he stands with his hands behind his back and his covered face diligently forward. No words. “I thought we were past the whole lack of speaking thing?”

A chill moves up your spine slowly, and it’s enough to hide away the reason you’d mentioned your affliction in the first place. He was…so stiff again. Enough so that you partially wondered how this person could be the same that had cooked you dinner last night and barked his feral laugh into the chilled air. 

What had changed in one night?

Nikto’s eyes were more of a void than the blackness of his Kevlar. 

Apprehensiveness growing, you move and grasp at your jacket with a twist to your lips, slipping it on softly. No sentences being spoken, you shift into the elevator and stay to the far left of him, taking out your keys from your purse and slipping them into the metal. 

With a jolt, the thing begins moving slowly. 

“Y’know,” you awkwardly laugh. “It would be nice if you responded. I just told you something important to me. I mean,” your anxiety makes you backtrack with a very fake laugh, eyes glancing to the side. He hadn’t moved; was just staring at the space ahead of him. “It’s obviously none of your business,” you wave a small hand, being sly in your word choice. “But I want to be transparent with you about everything going on, especially with how I don’t know if you see color or not. It’s a disadvantage on my part and I—”

“I see color.” Is the monotone, dead response.

I know that. 

“Oh. Good,” you try to smile shakily, hand jerking as it hangs at your side with a low simmer of a pounding pulse. A shimmer of excitement runs through your spine. “That’s good, Nikto, I’m glad that you do. So, if you don’t mind me asking, who’s your s—”

A low growl. “I do not want to.” 

Tension overtakes the small area and your wide eyes stare unabashedly in shock. All eagerness utterly ceases to exist. 

“Excuse me?” You push out your utter confusion, shoulders moving higher.

Surely he didn’t mean he doesn’t want the gift of seeing color. 

No one would ever say something like that. Ever. Even those who’ve gone through Soulmate Psychosis have never stated they didn't want to see the shades and hues of the leaves—the sky or the earth. How the clouds looked when the sun was getting low. Purples and blues, colors you’d only ever be able to try and understand knowing that it would be impossible.

And what did this mean for you? You’d been banking off a confession, but this wasn’t the kind you’d expected.

“It is useless to me,” Nikto avoids your gaze. “Неуместный.”

“I have to disagree,” you stutter, slightly shifting your body to tilt his way. The crafted plan in your head is thrown to the wind. “Nikto, we’re talking about color here. Soulmates. The…the person you’re supposed to be destined to be with—how can you say that? Don’t you remember how the world looked when it was all black and white?”

A low snarl echoes, pale eyes jerking your way as a head snaps. 

“Достаточно!” You suck in a fast breath as the elevator dings, both of you arriving at the ground floor, doors rolling back to the open lobby. “We do not need you speaking to us on such things.” Nikto moves forward, your nose almost bumping into his chestpiece as the scent of rotten wood infects you. Your body takes down a swift breath, head snapping up to watch. “You know nothing!” His face is right above yours, looming, nearly bending your spine over. “Spoiled girl with pretty face—thinks she knows what she wants, yes?” The Russian scoffs, speaking low as your hands clench at the assumption. “Keep this to yourself.”

He turns and stalks away with a hostile grunt, leaving you blankly staring at where his face used to be, the image of his Kevlar mask burning in the back of your mind. A knife of hurt gradually takes place between your ribs, breeding until your lungs are ruthless in its clutch. 

This wasn’t what you had expected.

Nikto glares at Isaak, who had watched with wide eyes and a loose jaw, and not moments later, the doorman quickly averts his gaze to stare at nothing on his desk. The Russian’s pulse is roaring inside of his breast, mind troubled. 

Brain damage. Can’t see color. 

Halfway to the parked car, Nikto’s mind returns to him and he slams his fast feet to a stop. Blinking, as if something in him had changed at that moment, a second of confusion leaked into his hidden expression as he said nothing. Waiting. 

At the small, hesitant movement of shaky feet coming closer, his shoulders slowly tense. 

You come up behind Nikto and shift past, taking the car door in your hand and opening it. Moving inside, you close the barrier to the chilled outside morning with a definitive slam. Darkness, for a moment, enshrouds you. 

Face unyielding and pulled with guilt, you get a small queasiness in your stomach as the seconds pass in the vehicle. 

Maybe you’d been too forward, but Nikto’s response had been…well, explosive. And his comments about color? Who in their right mind would say that? 

“That makes no sense,” you whisper, hand coming up and rubbing at the scar on the back of your head. The one you dreamed would disappear in the small hours of the night as a teenager, remembering the beep of hospital machines and the plastic taste of the tube shoved down your throat. 

Doesn’t want to see color? Your mouth sucks down a shaky breath. I’d trade anything for only three seconds.

The world outside of the windows is gray as Nikto pops the driver's side door open, bending low with a grunt before sitting into the seat. He doesn’t apologize as he shoves the keys into the ignition—starting the engine. The car rumbles to life. 

Maybe you’d been too forward.

“You think?” You whisper to yourself under your breath, tearing your eyes away from the Russian man, grabbing and clicking in your seatbelt. 

Socially, you had grace—were used to carrying it to those horrible parties and events. But talking about more personal matters was another thing entirely from work-life. From designer clothes and when they came out, shoes, and makeup. Sex and alcohol. Everyone at AMA speaks with vanity, and you were included. You knew you were beautiful, you’d been told and retold with every pluck from your eyebrows and spread of lipstick over your mouth; ruthless petting like a cat or a doll—there was never any doubt about that. 

You could speak beauty, but you can’t speak about real love. Call you hopeless, but that was really all you ever wanted. 

Love. Romance. Care and concern. It was addictive to you in every sense—and you just kept coming back for a hit of what you couldn’t have. You’d warned yourself after Yefim, but it hadn’t even taken a month before you had found another man to fixate on; the body of the previous stuck still in your nightmares.

But there was that sliver of something in your gut every time you stared at Nikto; something that didn’t add up. You weren’t deterred—weren’t put off. There was something deeper there that you just had to get to the bottom of first. 

There had to be something he wasn’t telling you about why he can see color.

“If I upset you,” you ease out, tongue like lead and your eyes stuck outside the moving vehicle. Your hands tighten over your seatbelt in small intervals, for a moment mute of what to say. “I’m sorry, Nikto. I was just curious, I won’t pry into your personal matters again; you have my word. Just like talking about your mask.” 

“Good,” Nikto’s hands flex over the wheel. It’s all he says, and even then it’s curt. 

Small-like, you mutter, “Also…thanks for breakfast.”

It had been a small and incredibly healthy—buckwheat porridge. You’d eaten the entire thing with fruit on top and never even glanced at the yogurt in your fridge. The man’s eyes had been sneaking glances the entire time you had brought the spoon back to your mouth, but you weren’t sure if it was to make sure you were liking it, or if you were eating in general. 

It was his job to hover, though. 

Nikto doesn’t respond to your thanks, but his shoulders slightly loosen a bit, eyes blinking from the view of the mirror. 

With a sigh, you keep your mouth shut and sit in silence for the rest of the ride, pulling at loose threads from your jacket pocket. Your fingers tap something firm from the inside, and you pause, blinking down at the dark fabric. 

Your brows furrow, but whatever’s inside will have to wait, because Nikto pulls up to the sidewalk and parks the car with a huff. Like before, he opens your door when he’s outside. 

“Your investigators will come for any package,” he explains as you shuffle and stand, fixing the collar of your coat and glancing his way. It’s like he hadn’t just snapped at you minutes ago—that numb sheet was over his head once more. “You will not take them.”

There seems to be a moment where he waits for confirmation, raising a brow into the cold air that you can only partially see. 

You clear your throat and look away down the street. 

“Sure,” you say. 

…Had he really called me spoiled?

Nikto glares at you, jaw clenching under his mask. He looks you up and down quickly without moving his head, skin tight and scars pulling. Your words in the elevator had… aggravated him, even if he can’t pinpoint why. 

You were messing with his head—and that is an already very broken thing. Yet…your questions weren’t pointless. He knew you’d ask them sooner or later, like a fox to a trap, it was only a matter of time. 

He should have expected this, and while cruelty is his nature, he can’t be that to you. The Russian had snapped too violently in the lobby, and it wasn’t your fault. Even with moments of relative calm, he knew that to be fact. But Nikto was a brooding creature—he picked only between missions and guns to be his avatars. Emotions were a loser’s game, and he would not lose at anything so long as he was living. Nikto was a bloody victor holding the remnants of a fresh kill. Nikto was as much a bear as the one printed on his back.

Pale eyes close, a low snarl stuck in the back of his throat. 

You blink at the arm that gets held out to you. 

“Grab it,” the man doesn’t give away anything; his eyes are ahead and his voice is low like your ability to understand his sudden change.

Every five minutes this Russian was switching between anger and relative tolerance of you. Your brows lightly rise on your forehead, wrinkles forming on your flesh.

Your quivering hand raises and slots itself through his left arm softly, head tilting. 

“As much as I appreciate it,” you speak as he helps you up the curb with a firm pull, side-eyeing you. “I can manage. I’ll ask if I can’t.” A tentative smile. “Last-minute mascara is most of what I trust you with besides the food.”

“There will be less of the former in our future.” He grunts as you shut the door behind you. “We have no plans to do such things.”

“You said that about cooking,” you tease, falling back into seamless flirting, trying to get the man who had cooked you supper back into his skin. “I didn’t know you’d be such an attentive roommate.”

Those light orbs stay pinned to you for a long moment, twisting in like a knife with only a glint in the circles of his blackened pupils. 

There’s a click of the car locking, and the Russian is all but dragging you forward. Chuckling under your breath, you follow as well as you’re able through the front, feet only stumbling for a moment before you can lean your weight to the side and rely on Nikto to keep you straight. It helps, you admit, though he’s a bit more stiff than Aly.  

Your hand rests on his bicep, fingers moving to spread over the hard material and sensing the sinews of his flesh writhe at the action. Nikto huffs under his breath, rolling his shoulders to dispel tension.

Your scent is wafting into his nose like he’d put his head into a tank of ambrosia—your perfume addling his senses, shaming him like a venomous snake being held by a dove.

By an angel. 

“Останови это.” 

You blink and turn to him, humming. “What was that, Nikto?”

The man is tense again, eyes snapping about as he pushes at the front door to AMA, your own nerves becoming apparent, yet, having your distraction here to pull you away from that. 

“Nothing,” he monotones. “Where are we going.”

“Upstairs,” you sigh, walking past the front desk as the women look on in confusion when you don’t stop by. They hadn’t expected you to come in, apparently. It was your job. As you pass pictures and paintings in the hallways, you slowly begin to speak. 

“What color is that one,” your finger points to the frame on the far left. It was a dark shade that moved into a lighter one—Ombré.

Nikto’s feet slow, his attention moving from ahead of you to the side for a fast flash. Gruffly, and feeling his chest tighten at the sensation of you freely touching him above the corrupted flesh, he responds in a clipped fashion. “Blue and Green.”

You hum lowly. “Light blue?”

“Нет. Light green to dark blue.” 

“Oh.” You tilt your head at it as you pass, peeking over your shoulder.  It wasn’t like you could really understand that, but…a small smile pulled at your lips as you turned back forward.

Nikto blinks at it from the corner of his vision, narrowing his eyelids momentarily like a wolf. 

“... We do not understand the fascination with it,” he grumbles. “Color.”

“I don’t want to upset you,” your head shakes. “We don’t have to talk about it—”

“I do not like losing my temper at pointless discussion.” You’re interrupted, and you feel your lips part not at the behavior, but the tone at which he takes. A strange firmness that bleeds into conviction. “It was an…error in my judgments.”

It’s only when you steer him lightly to the right hallway to the elevator that your lips move into a smirk, leaning into him even more. Nikto’s eyes flash with surprise, darting down. 

“Was that an apology, Big Guy?”

“No,” he scowls under his mask, but his body is gaining heat to it. “An observation of character.”

“I think you just apologized to me and don’t know how to admit it,” you move your face close to his just as he had to you in the penthouse, nose brushing the canvas of the lower half of his face covering. You hear his breath hitch, his large frame going still and yet not pulling away. Your matching feet continue to move. 

He seems to lean closer, even, or was that just a trick of the light? 

Your lips release a chuckle, your face begins to burn and your veins pump oxytocin that Aly would be intrigued to learn about. 

You pull back after a bit too much staring into his eyes, saying breathlessly, “I’m more flattered that you think I’m pretty, Nikto.”

His large sigh is all you hear, hand releasing his arm for a moment to push the elevator’s button to the top floor of the building, chuckling under your breath. 

Nikto grumbles but responds with nothing more than a twitch of his fingers when your heat leaves him, motioning his arm again when you come back over. The sudden lapse in your pressured fingers made his spine straighten.

Kliment Fedorov’s office floor is large—very large. It takes up the entire top of the building and his influence seeps down to the very bottom like blackened oil. You’d been here before, as well as seen it from video calls, and while you could have talked to your manager about the gap in your schedule, the fact was that the man was quitting on you. 

Dead birds in plastic bags were a bit too much.

It left you only able to go to the top for any clarification until a new manager could be hired. 

“When we’re in there,” you comment to Nikto, hand going back to touch him. The Russian blinks slowly, fighting how his body wants to sag. “It’s probably best if you don’t speak, okay?” 

Pale eyes narrow, head tilting to the side.

You sigh at the movement, placating him with an explanation. “It’s not that I don’t trust your judgment, but Mr. Fedorov is,” your voice trails off. “He’s very lofty if you get what I mean.”

“Lofty?” Nikto prompts as the elevator continues to move upwards. He seems confused by the word in English. 

Your free hand raises and gestures vaguely before you twist your lips and end on a simple, “Arrogant.” 

“Ah, да,” the large man utters. “I am not a stranger to such, yes?” 

It’s strange how the two of you can just slip past the small arguments that pop up—or, more of the one-sided breaking points and the prodding comments. His words didn’t bother you, and that was different; if your mother had snapped like that, it would be a different story entirely even if you, ultimately, would have let it pass like the rest. 

“Do you really think I’m spoiled?” 

But you did tend to linger on things. 

Before there’s an answer from Nikto, who grunts under his breath, the main door opens with a small ding. Sharing a glance, you shake your head with a quirk of your lips and walk out with a tiny pull at his arm. 

You lean and whisper, “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

Nikto doesn’t like how his heart constricts like there’s a vice around it—eyes snapping back. He holds back a flinch.

From there it’s checking in with the secretary and being waved in by her hand, already talking to someone else on the phone and typing away on her computer. You hum under your breath, and Nikto feels your hand jerk. He glances over as the doors get closer, calmed down at least for now. 

“You are worried.”

“Only a little,” you mutter, brushing down your jacket, feeling that bulge of something in the pocket. 

“Do not be.” The masked man looks forward after studying the layout of the floor—where the emergency exit was and the most efficient places to take cover. 

Easy for you to say, you huff. Nikto had a very stiff way of comforting people. 

And then you’re knocking on the door, and a voice is telling you both to enter.

—

“Lovely Seraph!” The CEO’s bald head is as shiny as you remember it, and those fly-like eyes are beady enough to make it seem like they move through you instead of at you. “Welcome, come, sit!” 

A hand is waved from behind a large mahogany desk, a round face nodding quickly as you smile although it’s not entirely real.

“Mr. Fedorov,” your voice is light and airy—a fake tone of elegance. It comes easily. “It’s so good to see you again. I hope everything is well?”

“Ah,” he laughs, Nikto helping to guide you along even if the room is sparsely decorated beyond potted plants and a large rug. “It is going well, my dear. Very well.” 

Eyes slip down your body, past your modest clothes. Something moves behind Fedorov’s expression, shifting. Nikto is a firm brick beside you, only letting you leave when the chair is in front of you. You slide him a thankful glance and slip away, grasping the side of the seat and moving into it with little trouble. 

“My dear, I hadn’t expected to see you in last year’s collection.” You blink, eyes darting down to stare at the shirt you wear—it isn’t anything fancy or eye-catching. But it was expensive. 

“Oh,” stuttering a moment, you try to play off a suddenly tight laugh. “M-my apologies, Sir. It must have slipped my mind this morning—”

“I will send the newest to you, don’t fret,” Fedorov smirks. “We can’t have one of our best ladies wearing rags.” 

A spike of anger levels itself at your throat like a knife, and Nikto, who had moved like a shadow to stand at the far wall with his hands behind his back, feels his pupils constrict. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you clear your throat lightly, looking to your guard quickly. “I don’t need any more presents, Sir, I promise.”

“Nonsense.” Kliment dismisses you, splaying his hands from where they rest on the desk. “You’ll enjoy them. Very nice collection this year. My gift to you for your success here.” You shrivel in at his next comment. “Your last photoshoot was…just exquisite, my Dear. Those white tones look heavenly on you.” 

Swallowing down saliva slowly, you shift your thighs and let your arms circle your waist, feeling naked as gray eyes move your frame. 

But you can’t say anything. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you push out tinily. Nikto’s temper flares from across the room, eyes sparking up in a deep display of rage. He goes to take a step forward, not even knowing what he’s going to do, but, as if sensing this, your eyes snap over and you level him with a mute command. 

Nikto’s boots still, the heel only half raised. 

You twitch your head in a fraction of a shake, and he’s settling back to the wall with a glare and a hard clench to his hands. A growl is trapped in his esophagus, and you’re surprised that Kliment hasn’t gone up in flames because of it. 

“Of course!” Fedorov laughs. “I personally arranged your schedule. I know what’s best, hm?” 

“I was here to ask about that, actually,” you try to move the subject on, feeling dirty as Nikto silently fumes. “The gap starting in two days? I’m sorry, but I wasn’t sure what that meant and I wanted to come in personally and ask.”

Fedorov’s expression sours, scowling. “Those investigators. Messing with my work—won’t let you come in, Seraph, see. Horrible people think we can’t put up with silly little boxes and mail.”

You shakily take an inhalation and chuckle, lips twisting down and eyes dead still. 

Silly little boxes. What would he do if he got a box full of dead birds or a bomb? Then again, he never would—he’d have someone else open it for him.

The CEO continues with his hand moving to grab papers from his side, sliding them to you slowly as you look down at the material with curious eyes, seeing shiny gray signatures and large looping words. The realization is as rapid as a knife to the neck.

Party invitations.

Your heart drops, bones like steel inside of your flesh. The room is suddenly far too small.

Not this again. Fuck no, not this. 

“I took the liberty of confirming your attendance since you can no longer be here all the time—you’ll be doing,” fly-eyes glint. “... crowdfunding, if you will. You remember what to do. You used to be our best seller for investments.” 

“Sir…I,” you fight the bile in your throat, the world swirling. Not again. I tried so hard to get out of it. Fedorov doesn’t care.

“It will also get you out of the main city spotlight!” He smiles. “I’ve emailed you the bookings and hotels—clothes to be sent.” Arrogant lines on his face. “The dresses.”

Fedorov smiles as you stare blankly, lips slightly parted; your fingers curl in to try and stop the shaking. 

“But!” You flinch at the loud exclamation, and this time, Nikto does take a step forward, hand brushing his Beretta without your knowledge. “That’s all I have for you today. The two days you have to yourself to pack and get ready, yes?”

What could you say to this?

You can’t say you won’t do it—you’d be out of a job and out of a stable income. Your mother would only say it was your fault, and that would be the extent of her help; with the stalker…you had to admit being away was the best, but doing parties again…

It made you want to shrivel up and die.

“If that’s what you think is best, Sir.” Fedorov shakes his head, chuckling and sending a layered smile that peels his skin. 

“I do. I know what the company needs—and what it needs is you, my lovely Seraph. Our angel from the heavens,” he smirks vilely. “Sending us down precious money instead of bread. You’ll do well away from the building for a while. Let things cool down, you see.” 

And thus it’s settled with a meaningful look and a passage of papers, your quivering hands taking them up, not missing this time, and trying not to strangle them in your palm. 

“Thank you, Sir,” you whisper, not at all thankful. Your mind already runs to times and dates—small talk and comments about your ailments. The explosion and the stalker are going to be hot topics. You would be mobbed. 

But that was exactly what the man wanted. 

“Quickly now, go home,” Fedorov motions. “Be safe—remember to limit your food, Seraph.” A glance is sent to your stomach. “Have you been following your diet?”

“We need to leave,” Nikto speaks up in a sharp bark. “Сейчас.” 

You see the CEO look over quickly as if forgetting someone else was here when looking at you. His face moves into a hard sneer at the sight of the large man. 

“And who is this?” 

“Nikto,” you explain quickly. “He’s my—”

“Yes, Girl, I know who he is.” Kliment’s voice is low. “Keep him on a tighter leash. Dismissed.” 

You nearly stumble when getting out of the chair. 

A hand grabs at the small of your back, pushing you forward quickly, though not unkindly. Nikto’s face is rigid under his mask, lines hard and eyes narrowed. Over his shoulder, he throws a heated glance at the man at the desk, but all he does is smirk like a crocodile. If he were any lesser, he’d have no problem getting into Kliment’s face—Nikto knew the man would pose no challenge to him, he couldn’t even shine a light. 

“Nikto,” you utter, putting a hand to his side. 

The Russian re-focuses, attention returning. 

Your feet skid, shoes slipping at the force he guides you along until you’re back out the door and walking back to the secretary. “Slow down.”

Immediately, Nikto’s hands leave you, and you come to a swift stop with a deep breath in your mouth. Hands out, you shake them for a moment and try to calm your heart. 

“Thank you,” you say under your breath, hand moving to rub the back of your skull. “You, uh,” trying to lighten the suffocating air, you blink at his chest. “But I told you not to speak.”

“What was that?” He growls. “You let people speak like that to you?” 

“It’s not that serious.” It wasn’t anything he could change. “He’s arrogant, I told you.”

“He’s—”

“Why do you care,” you stare at him, suddenly defensive. “It’s my job—just like yours, I can’t lose it.”

Pale eyes sizzle. “That is different.”

You laugh despite yourself. “It’s really not.” Shaking your head, you brush past him slowly, gaining back your senses. “Even if I want it to be, this is all I’ve got going for me.”

Shadows walk beside you, keeping a close eye as the secretary doesn’t look up from her work as you both pass. “It is causing you to be stalked, Whelp. It is not sane to stay.”

You’re silent at that, taking Nikto’s tactic of steel lips and a dead stare ahead. 

Beauty was all you had. He could never understand that.

“We have two days.” Uttering in the elevator, you sigh. “Even if I don’t like it—it’ll get us away from AMA. That’s the most important part, and one that even I can’t argue with.”

You don’t want to go to the parties. Not even an ounce of you was eager for it. For what was expected. 

Nikto’s hands go to grasp the top of his vest’s collar, hanging as he thinks. The Russian can’t snap at you for that, it was true. Getting away was good, but it meant he had to memorize more floor plans and re-learn routines. No matter, he could adapt if it came to that. 

He hums to himself, blinking. 

“Very well. That I agree with.” Nikto pauses. “But I do not like that man. Like…” he snarls, “bald snake.”

A shocked snort exits you, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. Silence settles for a bit between you two as you process everything. Your teeth bite at your lip, leaning toward him delicately.

“...I was thinking frog.”

Nikto’s eyes spark, looking down at you from behind the black smudge of his sockets. 

“That is better.” He comments. “Да. Frog.” You both lock eyes and you feel your lips pull in a small smile, your face losing a sliver of that fear that moves in your DNA as of late. The truth comes out as vulnerability.

“...Do you think it’ll work?” Your question makes him stare, head tilting. 

“What?”

“Leaving.” The elevator nears the ground floor. “Do you think it’ll stop him?”

Nikto had said he would never lie to you. 

“I do not know,” he speaks slowly, feet shuffling as his shoulders roll. “Do you?”

“I don’t know if I need to worry about the stalker more,” you chuff without any amusement, “or the parties I have to go to.”

Curiosity moves in his pale orbs, swirling at your confession to him. Nikto stores it for later, humming as the door opens and he moves—sticking out an arm that you easily loop with your own. 

He walks slower, now, lips open as he hesitates for a moment. As your face is far away, expression open to the world, the Russian eases out, “I do not think you are spoiled, yes? I should not have said such things about your character. Do not apologize to me for it.” 

“Everyone loves apologies, Nikto,” you joke even as your heart swells—heat coming up your neck. “It’s human nature to believe you’re not in the wrong. There’s no need to—”

“I do not like when you apologize. So do not.” He walks you forward. “Stand your ground. Speak freely.” 

“That usually hurts people’s feelings,” you state in an utterance. 

It’s a good while before Nikto answers you, and when he does you glance over to find his eyes already looking at you—but the makeup is wrong, it isn’t as dead as they always seem to be. 

They were nearly soft if that was even possible. Hidden behind a half-lidded layer of darkness. You blink, feet almost stumbling as you lean into his arm. 

Tell me, your mind begs this beast. This monster who never shows a sliver of his face—who holds scars more numerous than you can even imagine. You don’t even know why you want him, and that scares you. Tell me I’m yours. 

“Then those people are not worthy if they can not handle the truth,” Nikto grumbles, shifting his head away. 

The connection is broken.

You focus on the way you hold his arm as you both walk past the front desk, taking the weight and heat of it in little by little until you have to hold back a shiver. Even stretching your fingers, you couldn’t grab around the entire thing—much like it would be fruitless to try with his thighs. Even his waist would be difficult. 

So consumed in the thoughts of Nikto, slowly taking you over, you both walk past the front desk swiftly. 

Only when you see the flash of a square object do you begin to slow—Nikto was having none of it.

“Do not.” His arm shifts out of yours, and you startle before his limb loops your waist, nearly stapling you to his side. 

“I didn’t even move to it,” you huff, looking up at him, frown over your lips. 

“You were thinking it,” he grumbles, pale eyes sliding like water over your face. “Stay.”

“Woof, woof,” you sarcastically utter. 

You can feel the tension in him—in you. 

And then you push open the front door, and the box is left on the counter without another glance.

TAGS:

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[st4rbwrry]

SMITTEN ☆ eren yeager.

★ 𖥻 synopsis. being cuffed to the bed was the last thing eren expected on your date night home.

‍     ‍ ☆. warnings — 3.5k nsfw, pwp, lowercase intended, fem!reader, she/her pronouns, black coded, girly girl reader, mechanic!eren, bondage, established relationship, riding, switch!reader, switch!eren, eren’s sensitive, chubby!reader, readers needy, male oral, finger sucking, eren is fussy, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, kissing, mutual praise, voice kink, vulgar language, edging, pet names ex. mamas. baby. princess. daddy. minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated! <3

“baby. . . you're in so much fuckin’ trouble when i get outta these.”

eren knows how much you love him. how much you appreciate him, care for him, wanna be with him for the rest of your life. the matching ‘till death’ tattoos imprinted on the inner corner of your ring fingers proving so. he makes sure you're always taken care of financially, mentally, and even physically. works from sunrise to sunset, praises you with kisses all over your precious face for making him a meal every day. buys you whatever your heart desires. runs you bubble baths when you aren't feeling well. gives you full body massages which usually leads to him burying his face between your plush thighs. eren loves you. eren needs you. without you he isn't sane. you complete him. so because he treats you like a queen, it's only right that he receives king treatment.

while eren made his way home to you, the only person he wanted to see after a tiring, stressful day with customers who complained about their cars to him and loud-mouthed, gossipy employees at his auto shop . . . he was surprised to see that you set up a romantic atmosphere. eren is greeted with a soft, neat kiss to his pouty lips. his biceps tensing as he wraps both arms around your body in a tight bear-hug, giggling as he lifts you off the ground.

you've got scented candles lit around the loft with ceiling high windows, a bottle of stella rose black and a classic meal of creamy mafaldine tuscan chicken pasta prepared. strawberry cheesecake in the fridge for desert. eren’s eyes soften, picking you up and carrying you to the dining table to eat your meal, not before showering you with more kisses and a hundred thank you's.

you enjoy your meal under the moonlight, sipping wine and having deep conversations which you envied because there's always something the two of you can talk about without getting fussy. debates, political topics, wellness, issues with each other. remaining mature since you have the best communication. you wanted to let him know that he's been so understanding, so attentive to your needs and you felt like you needed to do more to show him you want him to feel secure. that this is a forever love and you don't take him for-granted, not for a second.

“baby, never think that you don't do enough for me. i make the decision to cater to you and i have no issue in doing so. you deserve this lifestyle. being in my presence is all i could ever ask of you. i pray everyday that i don't fuck up what we have. you're my girl.”

and immediately, you're taking the air from his lungs when you pull him close with your arms lazily thrown over his shoulders while you kiss him deeply. madly in love. it's a scary thing sometimes. and it's crazy how such a sweet moment turned into a salacious act like this. after finishing a film in the living room cuddled up with your pets, a cat for you and a dog for him, you tell eren you have one more surprise. standing to your feet with a cheeky smile, holding both hands out for him to grab. eren is curious, raising his brows before standing to his full height, towering over your figure and it never fails to make your skin heat up.

“don't pull no scary shit,” eren runs a tatted hand through his long hair before holding yours.

“shush, i promise it's not that.”

eren can't see you biting your sanrio themed acrylics with excitement, too busy staring at your bare ass underneath that slutty slip you have on. he recognizes it, in fact. an old piece by victoria's secret you've been searching on depop for like a madwoman. it's a mesh coquette cherry colored slip dress with a ruffled trim tulle skirt and damn did you wear it so good, the slip hugging your curves just right. his mouth waters, instinctively smacking your ass as you step into your shared bedroom.

before you could speak, as you turn to him he's already pulling you in by your waist, using his foot to kick the door closed so the kids wouldn't interrupt. they liked to jump on the bed mid-fuck a lot. you try not to melt in his hold, his lips gliding with yours, molding your ass in his hand, moaning from your taste.

“er—”

“who said you could look this fuckin’ good, unh?” swatting your ass again, the force knocks you closer into his chest, face burning when you feel his dick thickening in his jeans against your tummy. print evident.

“it's all for you, ‘ren,” chewing your lips with a smile, you give him a quick peck before releasing his hands from your ass. “but first, i need you to take your clothes off.”

“ooo,” he sings. “you feed me some good ass food, get all touchy and cuddly, and now you tryna fuck me?” eren tongues his inner cheek with a smirk. “nasty.”

“shut up and strip.”

“yes ma'am,” eren hums, still giving you those flirty green eyes as he stretches his arms behind himself to tug at his stained white tshirt, usually getting his clothes dirty when working. he still manages to smell so good though. a mix of musk with his daily cologne and body wash. you'll never forget the time when he came home one day, car grease on his hands nearly turning them black. hair messy and a dangerous look in his eye when he caught you in the kitchen with an apron baking a pie. bending you over the sink, hiking your pink sundress up on your waist and holding you still as he fucked you hard. rough hands groping every inch of your aching body. keeping you balanced by your forearms he held back while he ground his cock deep into you, expletives spewing, sweat coating his forehead, and nutting copious amounts of cum. point is, you love when he's fresh off of work. makes the thrill all the more inviting.

jeans come next. and that's when he takes his time, eyeing you as he torturously drags the zipper down before dragging the black fabric down his muscular thighs, dick bulging in his tommy hilfiger briefs. commentary ensues. “gonna kiss it for me?”

you shake your finger at him, a tiny tsk following. “don't ruin the surprise, keep going. wanna see you.”

“i feel like i'm being filmed, there better not be a camera,” he rolls his eyes, finally discarding every clothing piece on his body, your legs clenching tighter together where you stood as he moans when his dick hits his tummy. the tip is drenching precum it's almost inhumane. you needed to lick that up real soon.

“you wanna be?” you question, serious.

eren deadpans. “be for real.”

“you can wear a mask!” you protest, actually enjoying the idea. “mhm, you'd look so good with a balaclava on.”

“no.”

sucking your teeth, you continue with your plan, walking towards the closet to find a little box with his gift inside. holding the black and red compartment, you face him with a cheshire cat grin. “get on the bed and lay on your back.”

eren’s too horny to argue right now, still anxious about what you're planning, but does what you say nonetheless. naked, heavy, tall figure dipping the bed with black satin sheets and pillows as he sits up against the headboard, tucking some strands of hair behind his ear, wrinkling his pierced nose. “i don't like you.”

“you will in a minute. close your eyes. no peaking or i'm going to bed and your gonna have to fuck your hand instead.”

flaring his nostrils, he closes his eyes. you try your best to be silent with your present, removing the lid to take out the baby pink fuzzy handcuffs you ordered a few days ago. thinking this would be the perfect time to put them to use. he's quiet, leaning his head back when he feels you climb on top of him, stifling a breath when the mesh from your slip grazes the head of his dick. beyond sensitive. taking one of his wrists, you unclasp one cuff and chain him to it, eren’s eyes shooting open before you restrain him to the headboard completely.

“no fuckin’ way,” eren licks his lips as he shakes his head, a menacing glare in his eyes as you sit on his abdomen and keen in achievement. “baby. . . you're in so much fuckin’ trouble when i get outta these.”

“why? scared i'll slut you the fuck out, baby?” a sadistic smile casts your face, eren nearly trembling from your words. what exactly did you have in mind? he had no idea. but he's kind of . . . amused? aroused mostly. it's rare when you tap into your dominant side. loving to be his pretty little submissive.

“if you wanted to bounce on my dick so bad you could've been straightforward.”

“mhm, this is more fun. i get you all to myself. i can do whatever i want. promise it's all for you. just wanna make you feel good, daddy,” you suck on your lip and press your weight down on him, trailing your hands up his chest to his tatted neck, eyes drifting low and moaning from how good the view was. he's truly an ethereal man.

“g’na fuck me empty, princess?” his voice drops an octave, knowing what that does to you. the way his voice summons you to do things will never make sense.

“till your shooting blanks,” you grin.

“well, if that's the case,” eren ponders, inching his face closer to yours, accepting his fate and playing your fantasy. "then put that pussy where it belongs, princess.”

it's not in his position to make orders, so ignoring him, you scoot backwards so his angry dick is in your face and your ass is arched into the air for presentation. “wanna suck it first,” you mumble, delicately wrapping both of your soft hands around the vein protruding, throbbing weapon. just the right thickness to make it impossible to fully engulf it in your throat.

eren spreads his legs, and the act is so sexy yet desperate. hissing as you watched you intently through his long lashes, your lips hovering over the leaking tip before taking it gently into the warmth of your mouth. suckling it like your favorite flavored lollipop.

“goddamn, baby,” he stretches out his arms as a force of habit, ready to hold either side of your face so he can work his pretty cock in nice and easy. but he's irked the minute the chains clink on his wrist, remembering he's bound. he sighs out, fixing to say something until you remove one hand off his cock and massage his balls while taking him further down your mouth. working both hands simultaneously. saliva building, bubbles forming the quicker you bob your head and stroke his dick.

“yea, stroke it while you suck it. mm,” eren's eyes are scrolling back, thighs twitching as he lightly moves his hips as you gag and suck. releasing him with a wet pop, maintaining eye contact as you slick your puffy lips along the sides of his cock, darting your tongue out and moaning deeply. your ass moves in the air as if you're getting fucked from the back, rolling and rocking back. pussy sluice in your thin thong, needing him now more than ever. one more thing though, and it's his damn favorite.

“wait, baby. don't . . .” a gasp flees from his agape mouth as you nudge his balls with your tongue before sucking one of them into your mouth, keeping your rhythm stroking mostly the tip, spreading your fingers languidly, sticky with his precum and your spit. you know that's his sensitive area, the breaths leaving him frantic. you can feel the blood rushing in his cock, rotating your hand and sucking the heavy sack as the whimpers that vibrate in your throat travel to him.

“f-fuck, { name }. g’na cum. keep goin’.” the chains clank along the headboard as he struggles, spreading his legs even wider, his tummy sinking in as he buried his head into the pillow behind him. the ball in his neck protruding and you watch him, so in love, so intrigued . . . you stop. and he whines, which is the last thing you expected to hear from him. it's so needy that it makes your clit throb even harder.

“fuck!” he curses angrily, groaning with pain and pleasure stirring inside. his dick jumping for attention. “don't fuckin’ tease me baby, or i swear to god i'll fuck you sore.”

“yea, whatever,” you giggle, purposely pissing him off further. “you mad, daddy?” you pout, tone teasing. reclaiming your position previously as you hover above him, his jaw clenching, black painted nails balling into fists.

“you know i'm fuckin’ mad. stop playing, { name }.”

he's got a lot to say but he shuts up the instant you tug your lace thong to the side and reach behind yourself to sink slowly onto the tip. both hands lay flat on his stomach as you ease down, eren mumbling ‘slow, slow’ as you sink halfway down before riding back up. your nails dig into his skin briefly, the relief you receive maddening. it's such an easy fix when he's available. eyelids squeezed shut as you accommodate his size, the fire in your chest blazing.

“oh my god,” you suck on your lips, face screwed once you pick your pace, rising and dropping your ass effortlessly, like a mystical creature. your hips move like waves, grinding slow to feel him reach that spot within you, moaning and tossing your head to the side.

“so fuckin’ wet, baby. listen to you. listen,” eren’s eyebrows are knitted, jaw unlocked, completely entranced by the way you move, the two of you panting heavily, listening to your slick coat his dick lewdly. ass clapping onto his thighs you lean back to grab onto with one hand to balance yourself. cupping a handful of your tits and whimpering as you fuck him quicker.

“unh, if you could see what i see, baby,” eren chokes, rocking his waist with yours to heighten your pleasure. it felt so good to take control. “you look s’ good when you fuck me.”

“love how you feel inside me,” your juices drip down his balls and onto the sheets, squealing as you lean forward to angle your faces together, his hands reaching far enough to graze your hair and cheekbone. focusing on the look in your eyes as you steady yourself on the tips of your toes before slamming your ass down harder, the two of you gasping in sync. “fill me so fuckin’ good, baby.”

eren thinks it's so ironic how your lettered necklace dangles over his face, making a noise he's never made before, focusing on the silver swaying. now he gets how you feel when his chain swings over your face when he fucks a dent into the mattress shaping your silhouette. he's succumbing to you willingly, breath hitching from the euphoric roll and dip of your thick hips, wishing so badly he had access to grip and grind you down on his dick harder.

this position weakens you both, your knees buckling and his waist twitching. your voice quakes and you cum without warning him, flopping onto his chest as your hips stirred lazily. eren’s close yet again, can feel it but can't get to where he needs to be without you. he needed you to move.

“c’mon, princess. fuck me, lemme cum,” he sounds incredibly submissive, that whiny tone partaking his usual asshole demeanor. it was such a turn on seeing his face switching from grumpy to ‘please baby fuck me’. eyes low and seductive. begging sounded good on him.

you sit up, cupping either side of his face before kissing him. eren rushing the kiss meaning he's extra greedy for it. gliding his lips over your chin, groaning in your mouth and sliding his fat tongue over yours, a sloppy french kiss. your mind goes blank when you feel his tongue on your neck next, wishing it was between your legs right now. that thing is a demon. the way he fucks you with it makes your soul leave your body every time. he's a gift from the gods, truly.

“not yet.”

“not playing fair, baby,” eren clicks his teeth, bushy brows entwined to showcase his frustration. he's so cute when he's upset. “all i wanna do is touch you. why's that such an issue? if you're gonna fuck me, do it right.

you huff, knowing he's saying anything just so you'll unlock the cuffs. “talking too much, ‘ren.”

a dark glint is in his eyes, those jade irises no longer it's stunning bright shade. his voice becomes gravely as he says, “am i? that's cause i wanna lick your fuckin’ clit. n i can't do that properly without touching you. she's soakin’ all on me.”

“mmm, wanna put your mouth on my pussy?” your voice softens tauntingly, trailing your hand down your stomach to slowly roll your fingers over your engorged clit. eren’s mouth waters.

“yes,” he clenched his jaw. you're so goddamn infuriating.

“she needs more. i wanna stay full while you eat it.”

“i’ll put my fingers in it. you like those, baby, right?” his eyes go all big like a puppy. “taste you while i fuck you open. jus’ like you like it?”

as tempting as that sounded, again, he’s in no position to make demands. ignoring the way your tummy flutters from the delicious thought, you're back to fucking him nice and slow. overstimulating yourself and edging him. it's so painful he just wants to cum. he wouldn't necessarily consider this a gift. you've just gotten in your head and took advantage of the situation. but that's okay, ‘cause he's gonna fuck you sore like he said. your necklace hits his forehead, chest in his face as you clap back on his pulsating dick. sucking his fingers and squeaking unexpectedly, eyes widening as eren plants his feet into the bed and pistons his cock up into you, knocking the wind from your lungs.

“eren, wait. . .”

“shut the fuck up,” eren growls into your neck, fucking you as best he could with his restraint. your screams fill the air, unable to hold him still. there was no point. he was pissed off now and wanted nothing more than to fill you deep with his cum as punishment.

and for some reason you underestimate eren's strength, because in a matter of seconds he's yanking his right arm forward and breaking the cuff with just a blink of your eye. you can't even comprehend what the hell he just did because he's grabbing your neck and pining you beneath him to fuck you deeper. nothings processing in your brain but the sound of his thighs clapping with yours, the grunts from eren and your second orgasm shooting through you. arching your back into him, his hand constricting some air in your esophagus which only intensifies your pleasure.

“i hear you, mamas,” eren releases his grip on your neck just a little, pressing his nose to yours with a clenched jaw, his one arm hanging above you since it's still chained up. eren shifts his body slightly down yours to put your legs over his broad shoulders, slipping his dick back in and folding you in a mating press.

“this is what you get for fuckin’ with me,” the way he's fucking you has your toes cramping and your voice disappearing. you can't scream anymore, sounds of pleasure dying down to cries and whimpers, tiny figure compared to his jolting beneath him. eren’s whines are muffled by the pillow he buried his face into as he shoots his cum into you, filling you up warmly. his orgasm so overpowering he can't help but still fuck through it. wheezes and ragged breathing is all you could hear since you had zero energy to open your eyes.

throwing your arms around him to claw at his backside. eren’s still moving inside of you, your legs shaking the further he pins them down with his one hand after sitting up on his knees, looking down at you, long hair sticking to his fucked out face. he takes two of his slender fingers to tug down your bralette to retrieve the key you stored in there. freeing himself and tossing the cuffs somewhere in the room.

“cheap ass cuffs,” eren says, spanking the outside of your thigh. “gotta give it to you, i enjoyed that.”

you perch up on your elbows, happiness shadowing you. “really?!”

“just don't try that shit again. now lay on your stomach and lemme eat your pussy.”

© 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖊. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life <3

[lemotmo]

They just don't get it. They intentionally don't want to get it. It's bizarre. The Max thing was spot on and I never thought of that before!

Q. I'm going to ask this with good intentions so hopefully you respond with equally good intentions. I don't understand how you all can honestly say they didn't have any buildup because I'm sorry they did. And they ended episode 5 in a truly good and sweet place so breaking them up in the very next episode was indeed a weird and out of nowhere choice. And I understand you're all excited, odd way to truly show love for Buck but that's not my business I guess. But Ryan pretty clearly shut down the Buddie stuff in his interviews So I don't know why you're so convinced.

A. Anon, I always attempt to answer asks with good intentions. But it's difficult not to sound perplexed when answering asks you know the sender doesn't actually believe themselves. They had absolutely no build up. You all keep throwing that word around and not a single one of you have offered any kind of example as to the build up you're talking about. The man was barely ever on screen. Buck barely ever spoke about him when he wasn't on screen. Build up is impossible if neither one of those things are occurring.

They met. They had a misunderstanding of a first kiss. They had a terrible first date that ended with Buck standing alone on a curb. Buck had a lovely conversation with Maddie about said terrible date, but that was an accident. He went to her because he was upset about lying to Eddie. Maddie even told Buck he wasn't sure of his own feelings ( I admit that personally I always leaned more into Maddie was probably talking about Buck not being sure of his attraction to a man in the first place, but Maddie has had Buck's underlying Eddie thing pegged since her arrival and his first kiss with Tommy was entirely muddled by his obvious misplaced confusion regarding Eddie so it's even more likely Eddie is who she was talking about). She then told Buck if he decided he had something to tell Eddie then he would. The entire conversation was Eddie based. Tommy made a brief appearance at the bachelor party, didn't bother dressing for the occasion, looked bored, yawned and then went to fight a fire. He and Buck didn't have a single conversation. He showed up at the hospital wedding, had a second kiss so Buck could have a mass coming out (the point of that scene was to ensure that Eddie was the only one who Buck personally came out too. Eddie was the only one he wanted the actual conversation with. That was the point of the hospital scene). Buck and Tommy have a weird date in the season finale where Tommy briefly mentions issues with his father after Buck tries to initiate a conversation about Bobby. Then he made a daddy sex joke. He had one scene in the premier with Buck and Eddie and spoke two lines. 'That sounds like Gerard ' and 'you're a vision in a cone'. We don't see him again until 8x5. He briefly shows up at the hospital and joins with Eddie in mocking Buck for his belief in curses. We see him at the loft with Buck where he brings him an ice pack and ibuprofen (which Buck is likely allergic too) and then tells Buck to turn off his laptop and go to bed while Buck is trying to talk about the Billy Boils stuff he's looked up. We see him sitting at the table the next day while Eddie, who Tommy called btw, is tending to Buck's face. We see him at the hospital with the team being the only one who doesn't receive the group text about Denny, making it noticeable that Tommy is an outsider (the entire point of him being in that scene). Then we see him at the graveyard with Buck but he's in the background and blurry. It is a clear contrast to the Buck and Eddie graveyard scene from season 6 where Eddie is standing beside Buck at the gravestone. Both scenes were written by the same person so it was a clear, intentional parallel. In episode 6 we see their anniversary date. Tommy gave Buck basketball tickets, the audience knows Buck doesn't like basketball (everyone knew it was over in that moment). Buck learns that Tommy used to date Abby. Tommy tells him that Abby went nuts after he broke up with her and took up with some 'himbo' half her age. The audience knows he's talking about Buck. Buck goes to Maddie and then Josh with his concern. Josh gives a speech that is so blatantly about Eddie it's laughable, I'm ignoring the glee part because gross. Tommy shows up for a date. Buck does what Buck always does when he's unsure of his true feelings and tries to double down on the relationship. He asks Tommy to move in with him. Tommy tells him that he can't do that because he knows how their relationship ends. He tells Buck that he's his first not his last. Buck makes a point of saying some people can be both. The show makes a point of having Tommy say yes but not usually. It was intentional to force that dialogue exchange into that scene because although Eddie won't be Buck's first he will be his last. Buck will be Eddie's first AND his last. Making Buck the exception to the rule Tommy is telling him about. Even their breakup was used to foreshadow Buck and Eddie.

This was their entire canon relationship. Where is a single scene of build up? Where is a single scene of great potential? There isn't one. Because all this relationship ever was was Buck's bisexual realization. The show used it to finally make Buck aware of his attraction to men. The rest of the relationship was used to juxtapose the contrasts between Eddie and Tommy. The show purposely made them surface level similar so they could highlight their differences as far as Buck goes. Tommy was a plot point for Buck's storyline. And a subplot leading into the Buck and Eddie storyline. He was never a character in his own right. He never had agency. He was never anything other than a plot point for Buck. Everything you all are screaming about are Cameos you paid for and headcanons you invented. It was a relationship built entirely in your minds and through Lou's grifting of you. That's not our fault. That's not the show's fault. And it's definitely not Oliver's fault. It's your fault. And it is Lou's fault. You're entirely to blame for your pain.

I'm only going to add one thing regarding the interviews because I think we've all explained the interview things at nauseam at this point. But I will say this. Every interview Ryan does with Max comes off as weird. Every single one. Ryan always overcompensates in Max interviews because I think he goes into them automatically on the defensive. Max has openly talked about is dislike of Ryan and it's clear that Ryan is not comfortable during those interviews and it comes across in his responses. Everything sounds defensive in those interviews. I ignore those interviews entirely. The show really should stop forcing Ryan to talk to him, at least in my opinion. Anyway anon, you already knew all of this but I condensed it nicely for you. Enjoy!

Thanks Nonny! Much appreciated!

I don't understand how people can see buildup in a relationship that only got 41 minutes in total over a couple of episodes in season 7 and 8. All their scenes were awkward and devoid of any chemistry. In season 8 there wasn't even any physical contact anymore, besides a kiss on the cheek. That isn't buildup. That is plot device.

As for Max Gao? Yeah, ever since Max wanted to get an interview with Ryan a few years back and it didn't work out, he's been really obvious in his dislike for Ryan. It must be an uncomfortable situation for Ryan.

All of the other interviews? Just forget about them for a while. Read them, but take them with a big bag of salt and forget them. Focus on the show and the story they seem to be telling us. Follow the clues in the narrative. Don't listen too much to showrunners and actors. They will deflect if they feel someone might get too close to the truth.

We've had so many examples in the past of 911 actors talking about things that didn't turn out to be true. This is following the same pattern in my opinion.

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

Prompt - Alec being mad at Magnus (something minor, some domestic dispute like not washing the dishes or eating the dessert he'd kept for later in the fridge) and being petty about it ;P

“Will you come to bed?”

He doesn’t get a response. Only a slight huff in return.

Magnus rolls his eyes and pursues his lips, “Alexander. It’s 1 at night. You had a long shift.”

His husband turns over his shoulder and replies in a petulant tone, “Oh, now you remember I had a long shift?”

“You are such a child,” he replies.

If Magnus were to tell the world about the kind of man he is married to, no one would believe him. If were to really tell the world the kind of man, Alexander Gideon Lightwood really is—they would scoff and their eyes would widen with shock and with disdain at Magnus for fueling baseless rumours about their consul.

Because the world knows Alec Lightwood as the stoic but just and fair Consul. Or the abomination.

They don’t know the man behind the doors. Inside their loft.

The shadow world knows Alec, the consul. They don’t know Alec, the husband or the father or the brother.

He thinks that the world is poorer for it.

For Alec like this, with his nose scrunched up and a huge pout on his face is a delight to be with.

“Wow,” Alec says in mock offence. “First you hide something so huge from me, and now you’re calling me a child.”

“Being a child is a wondrous thing, darling,” he teases, just to annoy Alec some more.

“I hate you.”

“For what?” He asks, voice laced with amusement.

“For being a deceitful person.”

“For lying about using magic?”

Alec stands up from the couch, pointing a finger across at Magnus. “No. No. Do not phrase it like I have an issue with magic.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

“I asked you to wash the dishes with hand so that the boys could learn. And you’ve been lying to me about this for the entire week.”

Magnus tries to contain the grin from his face but he fails.

“Max is a warlock and he deserves to learn magic.”

“He does. He also needs to learn how to move from one room to another without magic,” Alec huffs.

“It’s just dishes Alexander.”

“Deceit,” Alec says, exaggeratedly.

Magnus crosses the distance and winds his arms around Alec’s waist. “Come on, come to bed.”

“No. No, absolutely not,” Alec breathes, and releases himself from Magnus’s hold; albeit with great difficulty.

“Are you really going to sleep alone?”

“I love sleeping alone.”

“Without me holding you?” Magnus grins.

“Yes. You’re all over me and suffocate me. I barely survive the nights,” Alec points out, but Magnus can see the crack through his facade.

“Really now?” Magnus raises an eyebrow.

“Hmmm. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings so kept it to myself all these years,” Alec says, a serious pout on his face. “But now that I have found out that I married a liar, I have no reason to keep it a secret.”

“You lie to me plenty, sweetheart.”

“Name one lie,” Alec challenges.

“Yesterday when you said you were ready for round two because you’re so young and have a great body. But I clearly saw you use the stamina runs.”

Alec scoffs indignantly. “I did not.”

Magnus married the pettiest of humans and he loves that.

“Or that time when you told me you were perfectly okay after the hunt but I clearly saw the bruises on your back.”

Alec opens his mouth and then shuts up.

“Or that time when you accidentally said ‘fuck’ in front of Rafael and lied to me about it when he—“

“Okay. Okay,” Alec raises his hand. “Fine.”

“Can we go to bed now?” Magnus laughs.

Alec thinks for a moment before replying. “Fine. But you’re not touching me.”

“Just to be clear, you are allowed to touch me as much as you want, love,” he smirks suggestively.

Magnus drags him to their room because as much as he loves the bantering, he knows Alec is tired and needs to sleep.

His husband creates a wall between them with pillows, separating the two.

He snorts at the pettiness. “You are something else.”

“I just prefer not to bed with liars.”

Alec is relentless if not anything so Magnus gives up, fully knowing it’s going to barely take a few minutes before Alec drags his Magnus’s body behind his.

He lies on his side but immediately shifts closer to Alec, poking his fingers over Alec’s ears.

“Stop.”

“Stop, what?”

He pushes a pillow from between and starts running his dingers through Alec’s hair, pulling a soft hum out of the shadowhunter.

“No touching.”

Magnus smirks because Alec’s body, like it always has, instinctively reacts to his touch and he shifts slightly closer to him.

“You need to sleep.”

“I’m trying. But you’re being annoying.”

He plants a loud kiss on the space right next to Alec’s mouth. “Come on.”

“No.”

“I promise that I will reach the kids to wash the dishes with their hands. Even though, I still do not understand the need for it.”

“Are you lying again?” Alec huffs. “Once a liar. Always a liar.”

“Stop being a baby,” Magnus snorts.

“You’re baby.”

“I know,” he replies. “And you haven’t call me one in two hours and I’m feeling sad now.”

“Lies.”

Magnus groans this time. “Alexanderrrrrrrr.”

“What?”

“Please forgive me,” Magnus accepts defeat, content with the realisation that he’s okay being defeated if it’s Alec on the other side. “I promise to teach our kids good habits.”

Alec turns on his side and looks at Magnus. He raises his finger in his direction, “Pinky Promise?”

He chuckles softly. It’s a thing he started as a joke years ago but has fully become a part of their household now.

You do not break a pinky promise in the Lightwood-Bane household.

“Pinky-promise,” he entwines their fingers, brings their joined fingers to his mouth and places a soft kiss on them.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Alec nods. “I forgive you. You are allowed to cuddle me,” he replies, a grin turning on his face.

Magnus jumps on Alec, enveloping the shadowhunter’s body with his and peppers soft, warm, featherlight kisses al over his face. “Alexander, you are such a bitch sometimes.”

Alec breaks into laughter, squealing in between as Magnus keeps on attacking him with kisses.

“You love me.”

Magnus thinks for the nth time that if were to tell the world about this version of his husband, no one would believe him.

But that’s the thing. Magnus doesn’t want to tell the world, or anyone for that matters about this version of him. About the man inside their loft.

He wants to keep this all for himself.

This version of Alec Lightwood— the one who laughs, and cries and acts bitchy, the one Magnus is besottedly in love with, this, belongs to him and only him.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Febuwhump - Day 26

Pairing: Endverse!Dean x daughter!reader

Prompt: "Help them"

Warnings: language, apocalypse, big angst vibes

A/N: So this one got away from me and didn't end up being a drabble (more like 2K). Whoops!

_________

Your dad hadn’t been in a good mood since you got up. You didn’t exactly blame him. You were going outside the compound for the first time since you’d been born. Well. They took you on occasional hiking trips around the place in school and dad had insisted you be in the Rangers program so you’d probably been outside more than most other eighteen year olds there. But you’d always been close. The high compound walls visible. A few armed guys from security with the group. Never more than a ten minute walk away.

Today though? Today you were starting your job and that meant going outside of the walls, far outside of them.

“You don’t have to do this you know.” You finished tying your work boots and stood up, your dad frowning from the small kitchenette in your shared cabin. “Be a Ranger.”

“You’re the one that put me in that after-school program in the first place,” you said, shrugging into your hooded jacket. You frowned, his face blank. “Nothing to say?”

“I did that so you’d have more survival skills, not join them. You’re too damn smart to risk your neck. We need you to help run this place when the rest of us get too old to. Croats I can handle but other communities? It’s going to be an issue someday. We fucking need someone with a level head to negotiate-”

“You’re a Ranger and on the council so clearly I can do both,” you said, going to the ladder that led to the loft. He sighed, leaving you to climb up and grab your pistol from beside your bed along with your backpack. When you dropped down, he was right beside the ladder. “Dad. Every other kid I graduated with has been working their job for months. My job is being a Ranger and you cannot stop me anymore.”

You shoved your pistol in your thigh holster, slung your bag over your shoulders and took off for the door.

Two hours later you were still fuming. Your dad decided he just had to go on your first run. Sure, it was standard to have more experienced team members out with new Rangers their first few months on the job, but your dad? 

“Alright, everyone,” said your team lead for the day, motioning to the group of eight of you when you slipped out of the two vehicles. “I know we’ve picked over this area pretty good in the past but we’re looking for raw materials, things we might have skipped over in the past. Shingles, nails, plumbing equipment. Home maintenance items. Groups of four and we’ll reconvene at the vehicles in an hour. Stay sharp.”

You headed towards the group leader when your dad’s hand caught your arm. You huffed but didn’t want to make a scene in front of your new co-workers. Besides an annoying amount of staring, he let you work and pile items into a cart, making a few trips back to the cars where the team leader was organizing everything.

“Shit, where’d you find tires in a hardware store?” he asked.

“The forklift,” you said, earning an eyebrow raise. 

“That is the out of the box thinking that I like,” he said just as you heard a loud crash. You both turned with guns drawn, seeing no less than eight Croats rush into the store. “Fucking hell.”

You both rushed forward, taking out the two stragglers in the back but six made it inside where the others weren’t expecting it. Loud, angry shouting came from in the store as you rushed in, shots firing off. 

On the right you saw a large group of Croats and your people, your dad’s shout coming from the far left. You felt the group leader turn to go left with you but you grabbed his arm.

“Help them!” you shouted. “I got this.”

“Do not do anything stupid,” he said, letting you go and breaking off to help the others. You cleared the aisles as fast as you could before you saw your dad on the ground, a Croat on top of him. A loud shot rang out from your weapon and the Croat went limp, your dad panting hard. His eyes flashed wide as he shouted, a great force shoving you to the ground. Snarling in your ear told you it was a Croat on top of you, your gun going flying across the floor. He scrambled to grab it, another Croat rushing around the corner and going for him. He must have fired off a whole clip while you tried to get the damn Croat on your back off.

Finally, you managed to grab your switchblade from your backpocket, swinging wildly and slicing something on the creature. You spun when it faltered, stabbing the knife into it’s side, searing pain rippling through your arm. You stabbed again, this time in the neck, the thing going limp as something grabbed your hood and yanked you backwards.

“Get off!” you screamed, the grip suddenly gone, a hand pressing a finger to your lips. You caught your breath as your dad scanned the area, the shooting dying down. 

“Winchesters! You good?” shouted the team leader from the other side of the store. He relaxed briefly.

“We’re in one piece!” he called out. He sighed, grabbing his own gun from the ground before turning around to hand yours back.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him, his eyes wide. “I know you’re pissed I came in to save you but…”

Your gaze traveled down to where his laid, to the red bite mark on your exposed forearm where it pulsated in pain. Your gaze flickered back up, his head shaking.

“No,” he whispered, still shaking it. “No.”

“S’okay,” you said quietly, strangely calm despite the fact in a few hours you’d be just like one of those things. He just stared and you offered him a smile. “Dad, it’s alright. Just don’t let me turn into a Croat. Please.”

“I can’t…” he trailed off as footsteps approached. He yanked your sleeve down hard over your wound, giving you a stern look. “Keep your mouth shut.”

“Hey,” said the team leader, coming down the main aisle. “You guys hurt?”

“We’re fine,” said your dad, pulling you to your feet. 

“Let’s get the gear and get out of here,” he said. 

“I’d like to keep one of the cars and Y/N out a bit longer, get her a little more used to the outside world one on one.” Your team leader pursed his lips but nodded.

“Just be back before dark. It’s not always like this Y/N. You did good today,” he said, smiling before he headed back for the others.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your dad, grabbing your bicep. “Dad-”

“Later.”

After twenty minutes, you were alone with the car, packed full of supplies you had a feeling your dad never intended to bring back to the compound.

“Dad. What are you doing?” you asked. He ignored you, instead pushing up your jacket sleeve and taking his med pack out of his bag. “It’s a damn Croat bite. You can’t patch-”

“You weren’t supposed to die!” he shouted, glaring at you with tears in his eyes. He tore open the pack roughly, dabbing the wound with an alcohol soaked cotton ball before gently wrapping it in gauze. 

You slowly took your hand away, squeezing the thrumming flesh with your other hand. He packed up silently, slamming a fist on the hood when he finished.

“You should have left me,” he grit out. “You should have let me die.”

“Ranger or not, I wasn’t going to let you get ripped apart by that thing. I got bit, okay? I got bit. Now we can either spend my last two sane hours fighting or we can spend it together before you get in this fucking car and go back home.”

He was silent, giving the far off treeline a death stare. 

“Why didn’t you tell them?” you asked quietly.

“They’d have killed you. It’s protocol.” He slammed his fists again, turning his anger on you. “You know I can’t be changed. You fucking know about Lucifer and what he did to me. I am safe from this bullshit so my whole life can be one long torture fest but you? You-”

“Dad.” You grabbed his hands, the fight leaving him. “Today’s my last day and I don’t want to spend it arguing. Please can we just…I don’t want to die in a fucking hardware store parking lot. Can we just go somewhere? Somewhere nice?”

“Okay. We can do that.”

The car ride was silent, your bite itchy under your skin as he drove. It took nearly thirty minutes but eventually he pulled off the road to drive through some trees, coming to a stop. 

“Can you walk?” he asked. You hummed, following out and through some kind of hiking park or something. Certainly not one you’d been to before. It only took ten or so minutes before you came to the top of a trail, a wide expanse looking out at the valley below, full of orange and red leaves.

“Wow,” you said. He guided you to take a seat on the ground, his body nestling in behind yours. “It’s so pretty up here.”

“I always thought I’d take you camping up here one day when you were old enough.” His chin rested on the top of your head, his breathing hard behind you. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” You were quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the breeze on your face. “Promise you’ll go back tonight after it happens. Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

But he didn’t answer, only kissed the top of your head. “Daddy, please don’t…”

“I don’t want you to worry about what happens after.” But he refused to make that promise. 

“Dad.”

“Just sit with me, baby girl,” he said quietly, voice cracking. “Just let me have one more hour with you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, dad.”

_________

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️🛏️

I‘m also a bit curious about this one I think?

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Ah yay! Thanks!

30 for ➰:

tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Eddie stares at him for a moment, like deciding how he wants to answer. He can see the gears turning behind those brown eyes. Buck wishes he wouldn’t do that. He wishes he’d just tell him whatever the truth is. They’re supposed to be a team. 

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah, it’s just guilt. Sorry.”

Was that so fucking hard?

“Well, don’t worry about today, okay?” Buck rests a hand on his shoulder. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it. We’ll do better tomorrow.”

But Eddie does it again. The long, processing stare. Eventually, he sighs. Conciliatory. He leans his head against Buck’s still-wet shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “You’re right.”

Buck kisses the top of his head. 

“It’s okay. Just… Stop shutting me out, okay? We’re in this together now.”

Eddie doesn’t quite reply. He just grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes it so tightly it actually hurts. 

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

An hour later, the three of them are swimming in the deep end of the pool when one of Rachel’s kids jumps off the diving board just a little too close to them. Clearly the kid isn’t paying any attention. His leg smacks into Buck, knocking Buck’s head back so it cracks hard against the cement side of the pool. 

He doesn’t remember anything after a sharp thwack of pain. 

---

30 for 🛏️:

---

Considering Eddie is straight, that’s not gonna be an issue. 

“He doesn’t want to be alone in that house right now, Tommy!” Buck replies, exasperated. “Can you try to be sympathetic?”

Tommy nods. “Okay, so it’s the house? Christopher not being there?”

“Yes,” Buck agrees. “It’s that.”

“Fine,” Tommy says. “So he can’t stay with his aunt who has a whole house?” 

What the fuck is Tommy? The bedroom arrangement police?

“He’s more comfortable at my place,” Buck replies.

“And you never thought of switching?” Tommy asks. “Like, if it’s just about the house and Chris, you could stay at his and he could stay at the loft.”

What the fuck is he talking about? 

“That’s crazy,” Buck replies. 

“Is it? Is it crazier than two grown men, one of whom is in a relationship with another man, sharing a bed indefinitely?” 

“You’re making it sound like we’re Charlie and Frank on It’s Always Sunny or something,” Buck huffs. 

“I hate that show,” Tommy wrinkles his nose. 

“You would,” Buck rolls his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy demands. 

“It means you have a problem with everything today!” Buck snaps. “Eddie isn’t leaving and I’m not asking him to.”

---

30 for 🔼:

---

He doesn’t. He doesn’t blame Buck. He doesn’t blame Shannon. Why wouldn’t they want to kiss each other? They’re both… Well, they’re them. 

Eddie needs to say that, though. He needs to say anything. But instead, he’s red faced and breathing heavily and probably looks sort of angry. He’s not angry. He’s trying really hard to not get hard and the facial effect is similar. 

“Eddie?” Shannon asks again. 

Speak, Eddie. Use your fucking mouth. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Shannon blinks, confused. “Why are you sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for - I did this!”

“I… I’m not…” Eddie tries. He tries, but he doesn’t know how to explain himself. He simply doesn’t have the vocabulary. Saying how he feels about matters like these has been stripped from his vocabulary.

Shannon tilts her head a little. Narrows her eyes. Like she’s scanning him, trying to get a read on him. If anyone could, it’s Shannon. 

“You aren’t mad,” she whispers.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

New Girl [00]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

(slow burn, endgame, as in you’ll be seeing some short term pairings here and then as well)

MODERN DAY AU

Word count: 1,564

Summary: Life threw you a curve ball when you walked in on your long term boyfriend making out with someone who definitely wasn’t you. Since living with him was no longer an option, you’ve ventured out at the advice of a work friend and found the absolute perfect loft to reside in. The only issue?

You suddenly have four very odd roommates.

a/n: a long time ago i mentally cast jensen ackles as disaster clint barton in my head and have not shook it since which is why his picture is used above👍🏼

[00]: WELCOME HOME

Chapter Summary: You find a new place to live. Your friend mentioned all the amenities, but left out a very important detail.

The loft was absolutely gorgeous. It had an industrial feel to it thanks to the brick walls and metal beams running across the ceiling. Despite that, the warm light streaming through the multitude of windows gave it a soft vibe. From where you sat on the recliner you could see a small, open kitchen that sat right across from a large dining area all of which was behind the large, ‘u-shaped’ couch. Honestly, the moment you stepped through the door your brain immediately decided that this is where you wanted to live.

However, there was one little flaw you didn’t foresee when you showed up for the interview/tour.

“So, you guys…are guys.” You said slowly. You laced your fingers together and rested them on your knee awkwardly. In front of you sat four men. Very manly men, actually. Enough so that you weren’t sure why your co-worker would think sending you here to live would be a good idea. Scott Lang had mentioned the open room and the great location, but he had left out this huge detail.

“Yes. Good eye for detail.” The man who introduced himself as Bucky Barnes said dryly. He sat at the far end of the couch in front of you on the left side. He had short, dark hair that kind of looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Sweatpants, a t-shirt, and scruff all along his defined jaw. His stormy eyes looked exhausted, his lips looked downturned into a perpetual frown, and it made you mildly curious since it was literally one in the afternoon and he was nearly dead on his feet.

“I know it’s hard for you to not be a dick, but maybe you can, I don’t know, try?” Sam Wilson, if you remembered his name correctly, replied to him from the entire other end of the couch. The black man had his arms crossed over his chest with a raised eyebrow, but there was nothing but amusement in his brown eyes. Unlike the first man that spoke, this one was dressed in much nicer clothes. A button up shirt and khakis.

You opened your mouth to cut in, but another one of them spoke up first. He sat next to the man who had just spoken, “Quick question, are you single?” You knew his name was Peter but you couldn’t remember what his last name was only that it started with a ‘Q’.  He had an impish smirk with sandy blond hair that could only be described as purposely messy. He had a sort of goatee that was mostly just stubble. There was a leather jacket resting on the couch behind him that he had taken off when you first walked in to reveal the tight, gray shirt he wore. “I think it’s the question all of us want answered, right?”

All the men chorused solid disagreements, but it was the man beside him that spoke directly to you. This was the only one who hadn’t actually introduced himself to you. He had come in a couple minutes ago, dropped down on the couch, and then just joined in. You had mentally been referring to him as ‘hot mess’. He had like three bandages on his face, his lip was busted, and he had a fading black eye. His blond hair was also messy, but definitely not in a styled way. More like a ‘I haven’t touched a comb since I was 12’ kind of way. He motioned to you, “Ignore him, the real question we have for you is: Do you have any pets and when can you move in?”

“No.” Bucky shook his head. “We vote before we ask someone to move in. Loft agreement.”

Hot mess spoke again, “Well then let’s—”

“Wait,” You held one hand out and eyes snapped back to you. “Scott told me this was a four-bedroom place, and that you guys were looking for someone to fill a room but…there are already four of you?”

Peter half-heartedly motioned to Bucky and Sam, “These two share a room.”

“Oh!” You bobbed your head with a smile as you motioned to them, “So you guys are a couple?”

“No!” Bucky and Sam both yelled loudly making you jump in shock. They immediately turned and began to bicker with one another.

“Why’re you saying no so fast, man?? I’m a fucking catch.” Sam argued.

“You said no just as quick as I did!”

“Yeah, because I can do a hell of a lot better than a maybe alcoholic still mourning the loss of his psycho ex.”

Bucky sat forward to glare at him, “We are not having this argument again.”

As they continued to yell at one another, while you watched on awkwardly, Peter focused on you with a charming smirk, “They have bunk beds.”

“Bunk… beds?” You questioned skeptically.

“No, no, no.” Sam cut in quickly. He gave up on his argument with Bucky to clarify this. “It’s two very separate beds, on opposite sides of the room. See, I lost a bet so now I’m stuck with his ass—”

“You lost the bet? I lost the bet and now I’m stuck with you.” Bucky argued back.

Hot mess shook his head, “They both lost the bet and now they bunk together like camp buddies.” The two men in question grumbled unhappily. “Also, we’re all super broke so we need someone in the empty room who has a consistent paycheck.” As if to clarify further, he pointed down the couch starting with Bucky, “Bartender at a sketch ass place, in an unknown band, and therapist.”

Sam held one hand up, “I’m the only one with an actual paycheck.”

“I have a paycheck!” Bucky argued.

“And my band is not unknown.” Peter scoffed. “The Guardians have a gig this Thursday!”

Hot mess grinned, “And where are you playing?”

“A Korean restaurant where old men play card game and chain smoke.” Peter mumbled.

You cleared your throat and tried to get this conversation back on track, “You didn’t tell me what your job is. Or your name.”

“Oh, I’m Clint Barton!” He quickly stood up and offered his hand to you. You smiled and took his hand to shake it then he sat back down. “And my job changes depending on the week.”

You bobbed your head once with confused, narrowed eyes, “I, uh, I don’t know what that means.”

Bucky shook his own head, “Neither do we.”

“Well,” You took in a steadying breath, “Like I said before, my name is [Y/N]. And, I actually do have a steady paycheck.” You motioned to yourself. “I work for a modeling agency—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Peter threw his arms out to interrupt, “You’re a model??”

“Uh, no.” You chuckled awkwardly. “I’m more like a manager? Book gigs, manage contracts, help them on set…” There was a pause where they all just stared at you with blank looks. Peter was the only one actively gawking though. You filled the silence with the first thing your brain thought of, “It’s fun! My best friend from high school actually works there as a model so it’s a lot of us just…goofing off? Uh… I don’t have any pets—”

“Meeting!” Peter barked and stood up. He gave you a charismatic smile, “Just give us a couple minutes.” The others stood up with less enthusiasm and began to march out of the room, down the hall. Peter gave you a nod, briefly biting down on his lower lip, bounced his eyebrows up once, then winked at you, “Don’t miss me too much, alright baby?”

Bucky stopped at the mouth of the hall with a frown, and when Peter tried to walk into the hallway he threw his hand out to stop him. Peter complained as Bucky shoved him back then pointed to the short shelf sitting behind the couch. There was a glass jar sitting on it with a pink sticky note taped to the outside that read, ‘Douchebag Jar’ in messy handwriting.

“Jar. Now.”

“That wasn’t even so bad!” Peter argued before pulling a dollar bill out of his pocket and shoving it into the jar. The two of them left to wherever the other two had and suddenly you were left alone in the pretty apartment. Without the yelling boys, the loft became more and more tempting.

You drummed your fingers against your thighs nervously. This was a weird situation and at your age you weren’t really looking to live in a loft downtown with four strange men, emphasis on strange, but you didn’t really have another choice. Your job paid well, but you had lost a lot of money after buying a house with your long-term boyfriend. It seemed like a great idea at the time considering the two of you were coming up on three years together, but when you walked in on him making out with a girl sitting in his lap the great idea died really fast. You didn’t get that money back and honestly you didn’t even try to get possession of the house. You just wanted to be out of his life. Regardless of the cost.

Clint ‘hot mess’ Barton suddenly slid back into the room on his socks making you jump in surprise. He threw his hand out broadly as the others came in as well, “Welcome home, roomie!”

You jumped up in excitement, “Really? You guys aren’t going to regret this!”

[bravevulnerability]

would you be open to writing more? whatever you want, if so!

A/N: I'm actually doing a rewatch of Castle with a friend right now. We're on season two and just watched 2x11 (The Fifth Bullet) last night, so...

Set during 2x13 (Sucker Punch).

-

“I’m scared. I mean, what if it doesn't work out? What if it does?”

“That's the cost of living.”

“I just don't want to ruin this.”

“This is dead. You are not. Time to start making some new memories."

- Martha Rodgers & Richard Castle, 2x11.

-

She hears the crack of his skull the second before the fire of her gun, the crackle of her bullet, echoes through the air.

Castle staggers to the precinct floor, cradling the back of his head. Beckett is rooted to the spot, her shoulders tight, hands steady, heart pounding. But then he is falling, her sidekick - no, partner - collapsing beside Coonan's bloodied body, and she forces the grief back down her throat.

For a split second, she hesitates. Maybe... maybe she could keep focus her attention on keeping Coonan alive. But deep down, she knows. She knows her shot was dead center, she knows he's gone. And Castle is down.

"Castle!" she calls, holstering her gun and racing to his side, stepping over Coonan's dead body.

He's slumped against the wall, eyes closed, out cold. Her hands brace at his shoulders, steadying him as his body drifts sideways against the wall.

"Hey, Castle," she murmurs softer, an ice cold trickle of fear slivering down her back. Did he really hit Coonan that hard? Hard enough to knock himself out? "I need a bus!"

"Already on the way, Beckett."

Esposito and Ryan are at her side, Montgomery with two fingers to Coonan's neck. She doesn't let herself look long enough to see what she already knows, to watch the shake of her captain's head.

-

She sits at his bedside in the hospital. The doctor is betting on a concussion, but isn't able to make any firm conclusions until Castle is conscious again.

His mother and daughter met her at the hospital, fluttering in and out of the room like anxious birds. She abused her badge to gain access for the three of them to his room, to stay long past visiting hours. Alexis sleeps on the couch on the other side of the room now, his mother already having returned to the loft to retrieve a fresh pair of clothes for Castle.

"Are you okay, kiddo?" Martha had asked her, her voice quiet so not to wake Alexis.

"Yeah, Martha. I'm fine," she assured the other woman, forcing a smile to cross her lips.

Martha only frowned at her in return. "He's going to be okay, Katherine. I know my boy," she promised Kate with so much conviction, she wanted to believe her. "And when he sees you sitting there, he'll be even better than."

Martha had left the room with a wink, but Beckett couldn't adopt such hope. Her guilt was too busy dragging her heart down into the pit of her stomach.

It's late when his eyes flutter open, a flash of blue in the still darkness. She sits forward immediately, resisting the strange urge to grab his hand, cradle his palm in hers.

"Hey there, Chuck Norris, "she murmurs, earning the shift of his attention, the slight dip of his brow. "How's your head feeling?"

"Hurts," he rasps, wincing.

"I'm sorry," she sighs, reaching for the water beside his hospital bed. She positions the straw at his lips, watching him sip gratefully.

"Thank you," he hums, relaxing back into the pillow, but his eyes remain intense on her. "Where are we?"

"Hospital. The doctor's going to examine you again now that you're awake, but he thinks it's likely just a concussion that should heal without much issue."

"Concussion?" he echoes, confusion tugging at the corners of his mouth. "How?"

"I... you don't remember?" she asks gently. "Coonan, the precinct, the-"

"I don't remember," he interrupts with a deep frown. "I don't remember anything."

-

"Retrograde amnesia," the doctor announces. "The bump to his head, paired with the trauma of the situation... it's rare, but it happens."

Kate sits solemnly beside his mother and daughter, her hands knotted tightly together in her lap. Castle is dressed and perched on the edge of his hospital bed, his foot tapping nervously. He keeps looking at her, as if he's seeking her out.

She keeps her gaze on her knees.

"But it's not permanent, right?" Alexis inquires. "He can get his memory back?"

"It's a complex condition," the older man delivers gently. "He may have all of his memories back by tomorrow, he may never remember anything of his past ever again, or he may fall anywhere in between. It's impossible to tell. I'm so sorry."

Martha utters a soft cry of concern, Alexis grips her father's hand, murmuring reassurances at his side.

Kate stands from the plastic chair. "What can we do to make this as smooth on him as possible?"

"Not too much too soon, but it's okay to nudge reminders his way. Having his family here is a good first step," the doctor nods.

"My family," Castle speaks up, earning the attention of the room. "I know you're my mother and daughter." He nods to Martha and then Alexis, and then his eyes are settling on her once more. "And you... are my wife?"

Kate blinks before abruptly shaking her head. "No, no, we - we work together."

"What do we do?" he inquires, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Well, I'm a homicide detective-"

"I'm a cop?"

"No, you're a writer," she corrects with a twitch of her lips, but this only confuses him further.

"Then what am I doing with a cop?"

"Dad, it's kind of a long story," Alexis chimes in, shooting Beckett a nervous smile.

"But - but you and me?" He rises from the hospital bed, approaching Beckett slowly. "We're together?"

"Work together," she says carefully, but his face scrunches.

"No way," he murmurs, almost to himself, as if he's trying to work out the equation on his own. "If we're not together, we want to be?"

Her throat spasms with panic. C'mon Castle, no. Not in front of his mom and his kid.

"No, we're - we're just friends, Castle."

"Castle?" he repeats, testing the surname in his mouth. "Richard Castle? Weird name."

"No, not weird," she sighs, risking a step towards him. "It's the name of a best-selling author, who is a great asset to a homicide department of the NYPD."

The first true glimpse of him - the smile, the ripple of bright blue in his eyes - flickers before her.

"Why don't you go back to the loft with your mother, with Alexis, and see if anything sparks," she suggests, catching his daughter's eye over his shoulder.

Alexis nods eagerly. "Yeah, Dad. I think it's a great place to start. We can take a literal walk down memory lane."

Her heart eases ever so slightly when he glances to his daughter with the warmest of smiles. Somehow she knows that the large part of his brain dedicated to Alexis will return, unfurling like muscle memory through his mind.

Alexis loops her arm through his, guiding him out of the hospital room while the doctor hands Martha a stack of papers summarizing Castle's visit. They all exit the building together, prepared to go separate ways on the sidewalk, when Castle makes a sound of protest.

"Hey - I didn't get your name," he calls to her.

Something in her chest stings.

"Beckett. Kate," she adds, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Kate," he murmurs, affection, familiarity, and heat infused into the single syllable of her name. "I'll see you soon?"

"It would probably be good for him to see the Twelfth sometime," Martha quips, the smirk on his mother's lips subtle but there. "He practically spends half his time there."

"Twelfth?"

"The precinct. That's where you work with Detective Beckett, Dad," Alexis fills in, her arm still twined protectively through his.

"Oh." Castle's eyes flick back to Kate. "Until tomorrow?"

Her heart stumbles stupidly, just like it did the first time he said those words to her, the useless muscle tripping on hope.

"Yeah, Castle." She offers him the smallest hint of a smile. "See you tomorrow."

-

When Castle arrives at the precinct the next morning, it's with Alexis in tow. Everyone greets him like a hero, but he looks around clueless, a helpless attempt at a smile on his lips while his daughter guides him through the crowd of uniforms.

When he sees her across the bullpen, his eyes light up.

Her stomach turns. She doesn't know how to do this, to... to have him looking at her like that, all unguarded and vulnerable.

"Alexis walked me through my usual morning," he explains once he reaches her desk. His daughter is a few steps behind, talking with Ryan and Esposito, her red hair in a tight braid that sways as she nods along to whatever the boys are saying.

"That's good, Castle. Is it helping?"

"Not yet, but I'm hopeful," he shrugs, shoving hands into his pockets. "Do you ever call me by my first name?"

Beckett glances up from the paperwork scattered on her desk, the files she's failed to focus on since she arrived at five this morning.

"Sometimes," she muses. "It's nothing personal, just cop talk to use surnames."

"Beckett," he says. Testing it out, she realizes. "So do I only call you Kate at home?"

She forces her expression to remain neutral.

Home?

"Castle, we don't really see each other outside the precinct very often," she delivers carefully, watching his face fall.

"Ever?"

"I can't imagine how confusing this must be," she murmurs, shifting from her chair to move around her desk, move a little closer to him. Solely for the sake of keeping their conversation private. "But you and I... we're friends, partners, but not - not more."

His hand scrapes through his finely combed hair, the corners of his eyes settling into troubled lines.

"I just - I swore when I woke up this morning, you were supposed to be next to me."

Her lips part, surprise blooming on her tongue along with something else, something sweet.

"Dad?" Alexis saves her from having to answer. "I've got to get to class, but I'll be back for lunch."

"Don't worry, Pumpkin. I'll be-"

Alexis grabs his arm, her blue eyes wide. "What'd you just call me?"

Castle looks absolutely panicked. "P-pumpkin? I'm sorry, it just... came out."

"That's fantastic!" Alexis squeals, throwing her arms around his neck. "That means your memory must still be in there."

Castle hugs his daughter back, firm and relieved, his gaze flickering back to Kate with delight. So proud of himself.

"Must be," he grins.

-

His first day consists of nothing more than sitting in the chair beside Kate Beckett's desk, stealing longing glances at the woman he's convinced must have been his wife in another life. He obviously isn't sure of much right now, but for some reason, he feels certain of this.

He asks her questions about their time together, about their first meeting, the cases they've worked on together.

His brow furrows when she says they took a break over the last summer, but she bristles when he asks her why.

"I want to help, Castle, but I don't want to give you a biased history lesson," she explains. "The doctor said it's best if the memories are able to come back on their own."

He huffs at the response, but doesn't argue.

The days that follow are a lot of the same - he wakes up, has breakfast with his mother and daughter, walks with Alexis to school and then he makes his way to the Twelfth precinct to be with Kate.

It isn't until the third day that he has his first burst of memory. A burst that leads to an explosion.

Alexis.

She comes back so fast and strong, from the moment she came into his life until the day of the accident. She nearly cries when he tells her that morning, arms latched around his neck as he spins her around in the kitchen.

Bits and pieces of his mother come back next, patchy memories of his childhood, his teen years, his dream come true of becoming a bestselling author. It's all trickling back in like a stream to the river of his mind.

Everything, except for her.

It's been nearly a week and he still can't remember Kate.

"What's your memory of the day, Castle?" she asks him when he finds her in the break room that morning, fiddling with an expensive looking espresso machine.

"A book tour in Europe," he muses, approaching her with an eyebrow raised. Beckett scowls at the frother that hisses at her in return. "You're cute when you're angry."

She pierces him with a glare.

"But not with me," he mutters, coming up beside her and shooing her out of the way. "Here."

Without thinking, he prepares a latte for her, adding the two pumps of vanilla, just how she...

Glimpses of mornings spent with her - on sidewalks, parks, apartments all over the city - squeeze into his brain, pushing through the blank spaces like dripping water through cracks.

"Kate," he exhales, turning to find matching wonder in her gaze. "I bring you coffee."

She pins her bottom lip between her teeth, hazel eyes sparkling near green for him.

"Usually when we meet at crime scenes, but... but I bought this." He glances back to the espresso steaming into the waiting mug. "So you could always have good coffee here."

"Yeah," she exhales, but she's smiling at him. "You did make it a habit over the past year."

"Because it makes you smile," he adds, softer now, because part of him knows that the old him never shared this with her. But he doesn't try to stop the words. "And I love your smile."

That smile he loves so much doesn't exactly leave her face, but it falters, waning across her lips.

"I'm going to remember you," he promises - her or himself, he isn't sure.

"I'm sure you will," she answers quietly, something like sorrow bleeding into her gaze. "And when you remember everything, Rick - when you remember how you ended up in this mess, maybe you'll wish you could forget."

-

Kate avoids him for the rest of the day and he lets her, lets her have her space. He's learned enough to know that pushing her doesn't usually work in his favor.

He follows around Ryan and Esposito instead, squeezing out information, gaining small glimpses of the boys he once knew. He remembers Ryan's favorite tie, the video game Esposito's been trying to find time to play for the last two weeks - random tidbits he's grateful for. They're like little seeds and he knows if he just keeps tending to them, they'll grow.

He's not as patient with his memories of Beckett.

Esposito spills first.

"I'm only telling you this because if you get some random burst of memory in front of Beckett, you're gonna bust us both," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Beckett's mom was murdered, it's why she became a cop. Long story short, I let you see the file, you put your nose where it didn't belong and got involved, tried to bring your money into it to solve the case. It's how you ended up with amnesia and she ended up with another dead end."

It was my mother, not my father.

This is for the life that I saved, and this is for the life that I lost.

The crumpled woman in the alley, the stab wounds in her abdomen, the expert showing him the patterns of wounds on a dead woman's body.

You don't back down. That's what makes you extraordinary.

What if I let her down?

I didn't think you were arrogant, Castle. I thought what you did was sweet.

"Hey, hey, Castle? Are you okay, bro?"

His head is pounding. His body is sinking.

"Rick."

His eyes snap open to find Kate Beckett kneeling before him. He's on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, head cradled between the hard press of his palms.

The touch of her fingers to his arm is so careful, so comforting. He wants to tug her into his arms, bury his face in her neck, let the fantasy that's been running wild in his head since he woke up and saw her be real.

"Let me take you home."

-

He remembers her mother's case. Not everything, but the bones of it.

"I need you to let this go for tonight," she tells him. They're sitting in her cruiser outside of his loft. Hearing the flashes of his memories, the ones that spread through his brain like a decimating wildfire at the precinct, has a terrible mixture of resentment and guilt swirling through her insides.

She wants to hate him all over again for unearthing this to begin with, but she can't. She can't, because she's always known this was inevitable. A year of therapy could only keep her away from her mom's case for so long.

"You're angry with me."

"No, I'm not," she sighs, but she can't look at him. "I'm angry with myself, with the guy who killed with my mom, with the whole situation."

"But Kate-"

"But your memory - it's delicate. No more ambushing people for information."

She tears her eyes away from the window, the darkening skyline. Storm clouds roam the horizon, merging with the cloak of night.

He looks so sad in the passenger seat, his eyes down, head low. So many of his memories have come back to him, and yet his heart still looks so broken.

"And, I'm only going to say this once, but I need you to know something."

That earns the reluctant lift of his gaze, his attention.

"I have a hard job, Castle, and having you around makes it a little more fun," she admits, some of the ache of earlier draining away at the twitch of his lips. "So I need you to focus on getting better, on remembering me because - I want my partner back."

The smile he gives her has her leaning her head back against the seat, smiling back at him like an idiot.

"Your secret's safe with me, Kate."

His hand is reaching across the space between them, stealing hers, and she lets him have it.

-

The banging on her door has her jerking awake and reaching for her gun, but then she hears the familiar yet urgent calling of her name.

"Beckett! Beckett! Please be awake!"

She growls and hurries out of her bed, to her front door, before he can wake all of her neighbors.

She yanks the door open to see his fist raised and ready for another series of knocks. He's dripping wet, hair drenched and clothes soaked.

She notices then that it's raining outside, storming if the sound of the downpour and the rumble of thunder is any indication. And he's in nothing more than a t-shirt, flannel pajama pants, and a coat that's flapping open.

"Castle, what the hell are you doing?" she hisses, dragging him inside by his raised arm.

"Kate, Kate, I'm so sorry," he breathes, his chest falling heavy and fast, his teeth chattering. "I've been going through my files, trying to jog more memories and I - I found the file, my notes, all of it. The one on your mother, the one with the guy who I knocked out, who you had to-"

"Castle," she quiets him, reaching for the panicked, rain stricken face before her. God, he's freezing. "Hey, look at me - breathe."

"No, Kate, it's all my fault," he rasps, holding to her wrists, thumbs pressing at the points of her pulse. "I started all of this. And now your lead is dead and it's because of me-"

"If it wasn't for you, I would have never found my mom's killer," she cuts him off, wiping some of the moisture from his cheeks with the swipe of her thumbs.

The heaving of his chest slows, the anguish in his eyes dimming, calming.

She's never been this close to him before, able to feel the exhale of his cool breath on her lips. She should take a step back, slip her hands from his grasp, create some much needed distance between them.

But the way this version of Castle looks at her, so open and needful, so unabashed in his desire to be near her... it has her body canting towards him, her carefully crafted resistance waning.

"Was I angry at you when you opened this? Yes. But I know why you did it, okay? I know you care, and I appreciate you for it."

"I'm still sorry," he whispers, staring down at her. Raindrops from his hair drip down the slope of his nose, fall to the inches of hardwood between their feet. "I'm sorry it hurt you. I'm so sorry-"

"Shh, no more," she says, gentle but firm. "No more being sorry."

Castle sighs, resting the weight of his cheek into one of her palms, the edge of his lips grazing her skin.

"Thank you."

She nods, touching one of her thumbs to the dip in his chin.

"Did you run all the way here to tell me this, Castle?"

"I couldn't sleep anyway," he shrugs, still holding to the slim bones of her wrists. "I'm up every night, trying to remember more. Remember you."

Her gaze flicks back to his, the blue in his eyes shifting, storming like the clouds outside.

"You remember enough," she tries to placate him. "You've remembered cases, my coffee, the first time we met-"

"The details," he murmurs. "I want every detail back. I read the first Nikki Heat book."

She swallows hard, lowers her eyes to the fabric of his t-shirt plastered to his chest.

"I want to remember what I was thinking when I wrote the dedication, those interrogation scenes, page 105-"

"Stop," she whispers, but her heart is stuttering unevenly in her chest, bumping against ribs and making her feel unsteady.

"I want to remember the moment I knew I wanted more with you," he breathes.

"More?" she echoes, letting his hands glide along her arms, cupping her elbows, trailing her triceps, cradling her shoulders.

"Kate." He leans in, forehead bumping against hers. "When I woke up, I saw you."

Her body sways into his without her permission.

"And I knew it would be okay."

She shakes her head, but he's nudging his nose against hers, lips glancing over hers with such tentativeness.

"Rick."

"When you're not around, everything feels wrong."

She barely has to arch onto her toes to kiss him, barely has to lean forward to finally seal her lips to his. Castle moans softly, as if in relief, as he kisses her back, his arms wrapping around her.

She shivers when the cold, wet front of his body presses against hers, but the chill fails to stop her from rising into him, from hooking her arms around his neck, fingers in his hair.

His mouth is a caress over hers, his tongue reverent as it slips past the seam of her lips.

She's always known he would be good at this, that they would combust from chemistry the moment she finally allowed it, but she didn't prepare for the trembling need in her bones, the rabbitting of her heart, the slam of the door at his back.

"Has it - always been like this?" he gasps, the heat of his breath fanning across her lips.

"Like what?" she murmurs, feathering her fingers at the still healing bump at the base of his skull, tracing her other hand down his side, feeling the quick rise and fall of his ribcage.

"The wanting," he mumbles, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. Kate hums, kissing him back and slipping a hand beneath the sopping fabric of his shirt. "I don't need to remember to know," he gets out, staining his lips to her jaw, searing along her bone. "I never wanted anyone like this."

He doesn't stop her from shoving the coat from his shoulders, the t-shirt over his head, letting it all hit the ground with a wet slap. He fists his hands in her oversized t-shirt, knuckles brushing the naked skin of her thighs, snagging in the lace at her hips.

Kate mewls against the nip of his teeth, dragging him from the door with her hands at his nape, walking backwards in the direction of her room.

"Me neither," she confesses into his mouth, finding that she believes it too. "It's always felt like this with us."

They stumble into her bedroom, but he's gentle as he lowers her onto the mattress, moves his body over hers, and kisses her like he wants to press every memory into her.

-

She gasps awake, her room still heavy with darkness, the storm still raging outside.

Her back is slick with sweat from that damn dream she's had every night since she shot Dick Coonan, since Castle lost his memories, since everything changed so brutally.

"Bad dream?"

Kate shifts in the sheets, finds him propped up on an elbow, watching her. Rain still spatters against the window across her room, painting splotches of moonlight and streaks of lightning across his skin. Rolling onto her back, she studies the bare expanse of his chest, the ruffled state of his hair, the clear sea of his eyes on her.

"Yeah," she murmurs, but her hand rises for his jaw, caressing the line of his throat with her fingers. "You?"

"No, just don't want to sleep."

Her fingers twine absentmindedly with the baby fine hairs at the base of his skull. "Why not? Afraid you might forget something?"

"Oh no," he grins, eyes sparking mischievously. "You were right, Kate. I had no idea."

Her lips part to make a remark when realization dawns on her.

"You remember that?"

"And a few other things," he teases, but he's smiling wide at her now, causing her heart to skip a few beats. "Not everything is there yet, still some blank spaces and pieces I can't unscramble yet, but... I'm pretty sure I remember the important parts."

She grins and snakes her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to meet him. His chest shakes with laughter against hers and then he's burying his face in her neck, kissing her shoulder.

"Even if I didn't-"

"We'd just make new ones, Castle," she promises him, drawing back and dragging him down with her when she lowers herself back to the mattress, his body draping warm and firm over hers. "I like our..."

"Story," he supplies for her, brushing stray strands of hair from her face.

"Our story," she chuckles. "But I could let go of a few pages if I can have this chapter."

"Ooh, Beckett," he grins, craning his neck to kiss her. "I didn't think you could get any hotter, but please keep using literary metaphors in bed."

She's laughing into his mouth, tangling her legs with his under the sheets.

"Wait," he gasps, tearing away from her. "I gotta ask-"

She arches an eyebrow impatiently.

"Remy's, tomorrow? I don't have a memory of us going on a first date."

Heat is radiating from his skin, his fingers twirling in her hair, and it scares the shit out of her, how much she likes him. How possible it could be to love him. She doesn't know if they would have ended up this way without the events of the last few days, but to resist it would be like fighting the tide. And she's rather enjoyed being swept up in him.

Maybe the fear is worth it, for the chance of loving him, letting him love her.

Her hands cradle his cheeks and she arches her neck to kiss him, slow and long and with desperation in the stroke of her tongue.

Castle moans and presses down, slotting into place against her.

"Yes," she breathes, stroking the bones of his cheek, letting her words caress his lips. "I'll make new memories with you, Rick."

[risingoftime]

𝕭𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖞 & 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓 | 𝖗𝖎𝖗𝖎 𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

part i | part ii

thank ya'll for the requests! I know I’m a slow writer, but I really do enjoy your feedback & currently working on another request so keep an eye out.

synopsis: Riri decides to surprise you at your place after exams and exposes that she has studied you more than you initially thought.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: smut, light dom sub, scissoring, brat!reader, fingering, daddy issues, closeted!reader, praise kink, confessed feelings, light fluff, tribbing, obsessive!Riri, blackmail.

18+ | minors do not interact

➴ feel free to send me more thots

Your palms were sweating when you handed in the exam papers to Professor Winston. Riri was done within the first hour of the exam. Typically you followed suit shortly after but not this time. Instead, you spent all the allotted time-fighting flashbacks from the night before at the library with Riri. “I hope you remember all that I taught you.” Her taunting was still fresh in your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was her master plan. An embodiment of the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You felt foolish for allowing yourself to become vulnerable under her gaze, but you did not regret a thing. Although it did take you extravagantly longer than you had expected, you still felt semi-confident that you would still pull through with top scores. Using Riri’s techniques for analyzing equations, it’s possible. However, professor Winston threw in a surprise bonus question that kept me in a loop. The bonus question wrote:

“Given the possibility of building structures for coastal protection against erosion and sea level rise, which dexterous compound is essential for its utilization?”

It was odd, considering that it was rare for him to discuss underwater robotics in his lectures. Your mind wracked over the questions as you walked through the paths on campus toward the parking lot. You set the alarm for later this evening to ensure that you didn’t miss the postings of our grades. Professor Winston often was able to submit grades within the same day. We were a freakishly small class, and it was an advanced course that not many dared to take. Most took it because it would look good on their transcripts. You scanned the busy grounds of MIT, and Riri was nowhere to be seen. That girl was always on the go. Besides, you had more pressing tasks to complete now that the semester was complete, for example, packing for Chicago. You rarely talked to your family during the school year, and you knew that if you stayed during another school break, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

MIT was lively today, with students pushing their hefty suitcases and boxes from the dormitory. You were so glad your Dad got you your loft as an MIT acceptance gift, one of the perks of being the daughter of a wealthy politician. At MIT, you’re free to be yourself and cultivate a person who isn’t constantly scrutinized—having your own space away from curious eyes and individuals trying to use anything against my Father in re-elections. You doubt people from back home would even recognize the person you are now. It’s partially the reason why you haven’t visited home yet. Your Dad is a businessman first and a Father second. Once you do return, you will have to hide away the part of you that flourished at MIT. It was a deal you were willing to make, but now it’s your turn to hold up your end of the bargain. To portray yourself as the perfect eldest daughter at the top of her class at MIT. If only you weren’t in the same class as Riri. Academically, you’ve always been beneath her, never indeed in the same league.

You walked into your apartment and were greeted by the cool air conditioning. You took time to get settled in and stripped out of your clothes to change into something more comfortable. As soon as you got into bed, the phone rang. You looked to see who it was, but the number was unknown. Your Father often called with no caller ID due to his job, so you answered it without a second thought.

“Hey!”

“Hey, open the door for me.” Again, it was a female voice that you recognized.

“Who is this?”

“Who do you think it is? Dummy,” she laughed.

You sprouted out of your bed and walked to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Riri standing in the same grey tracksuit she had worn to the exams in the morning. Out of all the ways to get your attention, she decided this was best?

“What the fuck, Riri? How the hell did you get here?”

“I’m a master engineer specializing in robotic sciences, and you don’t think I can’t bypass a basic apartment security system?” Her tone was dry and sarcastic. Riri had a way of coming off as a know-it-all, and it got on your last nerves, especially when she was right.

“Okay, but that doesn't explain how you found out where my apartment is.”

“Hacking into the MIT student record system is easier than you think, and you’re more interesting than I initially thought,” she shrugged. However, the knowing smile on Riri’s face never dissipated.

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” You didn’t make any moves to unlock your door. Instead, you enjoyed making her wait on you in the hallway.

“Well, if you just let me in, I will tell you what I found. Or, I could tell your Dad about our escapades at the library last night.” Riri’s expression was smug. You wouldn't be surprised if she heard you struggle to unlock the door. You pushed it open to invite her inside and made sure that she saw you flip her off as you did so. You led her to the living room and didn’t bother to spare her another glance.

You instructed her to sit down and shut up. You no longer had the patience to sweeten my tone. All your nerves dissipated once she brought up snitching to my Father. Of course, out of all people, it would be her who would be able to find out your secret. You've done your best to keep a low profile until yesterday; you thought you did. You would have never believed that Riri Williams had always had her eye on you. We were approaching our last year after this summer break, and it’s just now that she’s decided to show her interest.

“If you dare tell my Dad a single word about last night, I swear I will make it my vendetta to ruin you,” you sneered. You couldn’t afford your Father to know anything about your antics at MIT. All he needed to know is that you have one of the highest GPAs in your class, with solid recommendations from your professors to prove it. Your Dad only cared to hear that I was living up to his reputation and status. Truthfully, you didn’t know when you would have this freedom again and wanted to salvage every second of it.

Riri raised her eyebrows at me and said, “Is that a threat or a promise?” silently challenging me to see how far you’ll go to prove my point. “Both,” I replied. She whipped out her phone, playfully toying around with it in a suggestive manner.

“Let’s play a little game.”

“Riri, I’m not playing with you.”

“How do you think he would react to hearing that daddy’s little girl likes to be bent over by girls?” She kept her phone in her hands, and you couldn’t fight the impulse to knock it out of her hand. Riri hasn’t met a person like you, cause that’s exactly what you did. You watched the phone fly out of her hand and slide across the hardwood floor toward your bedroom. The shattering noise of the telephone elicited silence between the both of you. For a split second, you felt guilty, but at least now she couldn’t blackmail you.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that” Riri got up from the couch to walk towards your bedroom to analyze the damage to her phone. You followed her to see if it worked and were shocked to see the shattered front screen. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting it to break,” Riri looked up at you with narrowed eyes, and you braced yourself for what came next.

“You know, you still haven’t returned the favour from yesterday. And now that it seems that I have to get a new phone….” Riri trailed off, too busy hooking her fingers in the band of your shorts to tug you closer. “Oh, I see. So this is what you’ve come all this way for,” you swatted her hands away but didn’t take a step back. Her face was dangerously close to yours, and you could feel her minty breath fan your face. Your heartbeat picked up as the flashbacks from last night clouded your mind. The familiar butterflies returned to remind you of your lust for Riri. You became acutely aware of how close the bed was to both of you, and all that it took was a push from Riri for you to fall on top of the sheets.

“Well, you did say, and I quote, ‘we’re not done yet,’ and I’m just a woman of my word. I would hope you are too” Her hands returned to my waist, and this time you let her. Riri whispered in your ear, “you remember everything that I taught you last night?” her lips grazed against my earlobe and traced down my jaw. Your voice was barely conceivable as you whispered, “Yes.” Riri had a way of making you speechless just by the grace of her touch. She made you forget your words and worries. Subconsciously you moved your head to the side, urging her to go down further, but she paused.

“lay down on the bed for me,” her command was cold but soft. You pulled your head back to make eye contact with her. Riri’s stare was unwavering. She raised her eyebrows, prompting you to listen to her demand, “I’m waiting.” You descended slowly to the clean white sheets and went to the middle of the bed to lay on your side. You were unsure where this was going but still excited to see what she would ask of you next. There was a thrill that came from relinquishing control to Riri. The tension between you is undeniable. Riri broke eye contact briefly to rake over your body, taking in your curves and supple soft skin. She couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch first. To have the girl she’s fantasized about genuinely alone and to herself sent Riri over the edge.

“Are you going to do something or just keep staring?” you rolled your eyes feigning attitude although you were a ball of nerves. Riri took off her sweatshirt, revealing her toned upper body and Nike sports bra. You never knew that Riri was this athletic as she wore loose-fitting clothes to lectures. Last night at the library was just the beginning, now that you had the privacy to do everything that crossed your mind. Riri thought about all the positions she wanted to put you in and the noises she’ll cause you to make.

Riri strolled to your dresser and leaned against it so that she was parallel to you. “I want you to strip, slowly,” Riri said. Your eyes widened from shock. You’ve never stripped for another person before. In many instances, you’ve been the dominant one, but with Riri, that wasn’t the case. “What? I can’t do that” you crossed your arms across your chest to attempt to create a barrier from Riri’s sensual gaze. “Sure you can, or do you need me to help you?” her smile widened with her question. “No- no need, I’m capable of undressing myself” at that moment, you were thankful that you kept your black lace bra on underneath your oversized t-shirt. Otherwise, you already would’ve been left bare.

Unclasping the front of your bra came quickly; luckily, this was the one time you didn’t struggle with it. Your hands shielded your breast from view. The cool air left goosebumps along your skin. “Don’t cover yourself. You’re beautiful,” Riri whispered. You hesitantly dropped your hands for her. Riri’s mouth practically watered at sight. Riri felt the familiar pool of wetness in between her thighs. Watching you half-naked and vulnerable turned her on in ways she couldn’t explain. She badly ached to have you underneath her. Once your shorts are off, exposing the matching pair of panties. Riri could no longer keep her hands to herself. She separated your legs to lay between them, using one hand to massage your nipple and her mouth sucking on the other. The sensation of her tongue raised the hairs on the back of your neck. A barely audible moan escaped your lips as Riri’s fingers traced the outline of your folds. Riri took her time stroking you, running her index and middle finger to gather your slickness to massage your clit. You rolled your hips to urge her to rub against you harder, yet her touch remained gentle. The fabric of your underwear dampened as she continued.

“Fuck” Riri lifted her head from your breasts and lazily dragged her tongue to your neck. Savouring the flavour of your skin as she dipped her two fingers inside you. “Your pussy takes me in so well” Riri was amazed at how wet you could get for her. Her fingers slid in deeper easily, opening your legs wider for Riri to get better access. Riri whispered sweet praises against your lips as her fingers pushed deeper inside you. Internally, Riri felt like it was a sin not to worship your body over and over again. Pressure built within you to the point you were unsure how much longer you could hold out until you spilled over in her palms. “How do you like that?” She muttered in the crane of your collarbone before leaving a mark on your neck with her mouth. Riri’s teeth focused on a particular spot on your nape. Your moans blurred into each other as she increased her pace and began pumping her fingers inside of you with force.

“Oh, I fucking love it. Please keep going.” Your walls clenched around her fingers. Riri let out a low groan from the feeling of your pussy wrapped around her. “That’s it, baby.” She curled her hand slightly, sunk her digits inside, and settled them there. Riri writhed them with every roll and thrust until she found your G spot. You thought to yourself, she’s the best you’ve ever had. But when you opened your eyes to look at Riri, you realized that you might have said it aloud. “Has anyone fucked you like this before?” Riri playfully nipped at your ear before she kissed you in a way you hadn’t experienced before. Riri moved with a need and hunger that none of your past partners possessed. “Only you, Riri,” you moaned against her lips.

Riri watched your face contort and twist in euphoria. No longer able to silence your moans, you began to call out her name. You arched your back to rub your breasts against her chest, and the sensation caused Riri’s nipples to harden. Riri wanted to taste your pussy on her tongue but held off on her desires until she fulfilled yours. She remained relentless while fingering you, ignoring the dull ache from her wrist. Riri was enamoured with you. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably as you felt yourself reach your peak. “I’m cumming” you sobbed into Riri’s shoulder as your cunt dripped off her fingers. It truly felt like, at that moment, the Earth stopped on its axis while you drowned out the room with your noises.

Riri pulled out her fingers, leaving a wet trail on the sheets. She licked up the remnants of your cum off of her, “you taste amazing,” she sighed. You hummed in satisfaction, still fresh with bliss from your orgasm. Riri snaked her arms around you to encase you against her body. She flipped the both of you so that she now laid on her back with you on top of her. Riri’s heartbeat was loud and fast. She tried to slow it down, but the excitement of having you naked flushed against her didn’t help. You glanced up at Riri through your eyelashes and felt a surge of confidence to take the lead. If Riri could tell you what to do, why couldn’t you do the same?

You toyed with the band of her tights, sliding your fingertips along the hems and watching as Riri’s chest rose and fell with each breath she took. “Take these off.” you playfully pulled at the pants making Riri smile at your urgency.

“Since when do you call the shots?” Riri was taken aback by your command. She had always been the giver, the more dominant one of all her partners. She mainly gained pleasure from pleasing others, but that didn’t mean Riri didn’t want you to do the same to her. You ignored her question with your own statement, “We both know you’re good at following instructions.” She laughed at that. Riri enjoyed that you could still banter with her in your most intimate moments. She pushed her hips upwards to pull down her pants and kicked them off the bed. “This too.” you tapped her chest, indicating for Riri to remove her sports bra. Again, you pushed off her to provide space to take it off and couldn’t help but admire her body in all its glory. Once fully exposed, you laid on top of her again, adjusting your limbs so that your center was perfectly aligned. You moaned, “You're already so wet” Riri could cum from the view of you riding her pussy alone. Glancing down where your pussy kisses hers, your wet folds gliding against the other. The movements between you made the most obscene noises.

The sensation of you getting pleasure from Riri pushed her to ecstasy. Her moans filled the room as you grinded against each other tirelessly, trying to increase tension on your clits. “You hear that, baby? Listen to how wet you make me. This pussy is mine.”

Mine. Something about Riri calling you hers made your heart flutter. She gripped your ass as she rolled her hips to keep the rhythm with your body. Thrusting her pussy into you over and over… until the need for release became unbearable. Then, with one last brush over her sensitive bud, Riri’s cum pooled onto the white cashmere sheets. Your name rolled off her lips like she had been on the verge of tears for the first time. In many ways, you are the first to see her in her most precious moments. You cuddled together in the bed with your hands intertwined.

Riri turned onto her side to look at you, “do you know that I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night? I kept daydreaming about you in that skirt, how you struggled to silence your moans. I could barely think straight. I wanted to call you, but I forgot to get your number, so I-“

“So you hacked into MIT's student records? You’re crazy!” You couldn’t help but laugh at it all. It was possible that you could’ve been out of your mind as well because the thought of her rummaging through MIT systems, risking her scholarship to find you, made you even more attracted to her. “You can call me crazy, but I’ll do it all over again to find you.” Her hands caressed your thighs in an attempt to soothe your shaky legs. Your alarm went off, making the both of you jump a bit. The phone blared from the living room. “Our exam results!” You got up so quickly that you almost kicked Riri in the process.

Rushing back into bed, you unlocked your phone to review your results to see that you passed your exam with a 95. Thank God! it wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. Riri gauged your reaction and shyly asked, “So, what did you get?” You felt apprehensive about sharing your grade.

“You tell me yours, and then I’ll tell you mine,” you stated.

Riri rolled her eyes and laughed, “You broke my phone! I can’t see my grades until later.”

“Here, use mine.” You logged out of your student account and handed it over to Riri. You watched her closely as she did so, darting your eyes from her face to the screen. “I got a 95,” she admitted.

“Wait… we got the same grade? How is that possible? Did you complete the bonus question?” the questions came out of you a mile a minute. A big part of you was in disbelief that you shared the same grade with Riri. Finally.

“You got a 95? That’s amazing! I should tutor you more often.” Riri jokingly nudged you with her elbow, with a cocky smile on her face.

“And, to answer your last question, I didn’t bother answering the bonus question,” she shrugged.

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ve learned that just because you know the correct answer to a question doesn’t mean you have to respond,” she said. You felt like you were missing out on crucial information that would’ve helped you understand what she was talking about. However, Riri cut you off before you could even speak. “Look, trust me. I know from experience. Somethings are better left unsaid.” She wasn’t in the mood to discuss Professor Winston's planted question in the exam. Riri was well aware of her mistake of giving too much information about her underwater inventions. The memory of Namor still plagued her dreams. “A scientist should never reveal their secrets” she whispered. Then, looking down at you, Riri promised she would keep yours too.

[rmd-writes]

Tag Game Tuesday Wednesday: 911 Lone Star Fandom Edition

Tagged by @liminalmemories21 and @freneticfloetry thanks, and good timing! You both caught me on my lunch break

When did you first start watching Lone Star? Who or what introduced you to the show?

I can't remember the exact timing, but I'm pretty sure I watched the first two seasons while s3 was airing and then caught up after - I wanted to start earlier but I had some issues finding a way to watch the show here!

My introduction to the show was via @three-drink-amy telling me to watch it (repeatedly), @clottedcreamfudge's judicious use of gifs from the show in the gc and a bunch of SC mutuals yelling about the gay howdy wee woo show on my dash every week.

Season 4 was the first season that I watched "live" which I did with @welcometololaland, both of us texting and screaming as we watched each episode together hours and hours after everyone else had.

Which season is your favorite?

Season 3, hands down. I don't know that they'll ever beat it?

Who is your favorite character? (Bonus: If you answered TK or Carlos, who is your favorite besides them?)

Other than Carlos and TK, I think it's Grace. I just adore the her energy and the way that she takes everything in her stride and even when things are hard, she's very practical about it. Also she doesn't take shit from anyone.

Top five episodes. Go!

I don't think I've ever tried to do this? I'm generally very bad at choosing, my SC fave ep list contains three episodes that I insist must be watched together so they only count as one ep hahahaha Anyway, in no particular order, and not necessarily by episode title or number because I can't be arsed looking them up:

Push, my beloved

3 x 13

the one with Lou

Bad Call

the Soulmates one

Bonus: the Marjan ep in s4 which was just so, so good

If you could pick any character to be given a "begins" episode, who would it be and what would that episode look like?

Either Nancy because we know nothing about her and I want to know, or Paul because I think he's had such an interesting journey.

What is a scenario or storyline that you would like to see in season 5?

I love @liminalmemories21's idea of a Halloween ep! It would be so fun!

We probably won't get it because of the shorter season, but I'd love more Lonestar-is-a-comedy-actually episodes like Red vs Blue and the (original) Lou arc.

More realistically, I'd love to see Carlos actually grappling with the consequences of his actions in s4 and also working through his grief and TK helping him do that. And I'd like to see an absence of Owen love interests.

What do you think is going on in this still?

I want it to be something silly like Lou 2 is lost in the loft and Carlos is Not Happy about it (the reason for TK's posture) and then he answers his phone in the middle of all of that, hence the facial expression. The phone call isn't that important, it's Owen asking Carlos for help on a side quest.

We all know about the elusive 5x05 spicy scene that has been teased, so what is your prediction for how it could possibly top 1x02?

I don't know about a prediction, but I'd love to see them getting distracted from getting ready in the morning. Carlos (in just his underwear) waking TK up with a kiss and TK pulling him back into bed for a good make out session and that turning into more. A very different vibe to 1x02 but hot nonetheless.

Where was the Tarlos honeymoon in your mind?

I think it was somewhere close to home - with the accelerated wedding timeline (lol) they didn't have time for a long trip for to somewhere far away, and by all accounts, travelling overseas wasn't on their radar anyway (see: TK's disbelief when Carlos says he wants to go to Tuscany). So a long weekend at a nice resort somewhere. Enzo paid for it as their wedding gift because he couldn't make it to the wedding when they moved the date up.

Shoutout one of your favorite fan creations.

Just one (1)? Impossible! This Rafa fan art by @ambiguouspenny made me actually say "oh fuck" the first time I saw it. I adore the way @whatsintheboxmh uses light in all of her fan art. I love @howtosingit's Carlos episode edits because they a) let me watch all of the Tarlos scenes on repeat (and before I actually get to the watch the episodes when they air because time zones), b) give me an easy way to check canon dialogue and c) make it easy to convince new people to watch the show when they sneak into my DMs and tell me that the number of Tarlos gifs I am putting on their dash is tempting them. @liminalmemories21's Knave-verse might be my favourite Tarlos AU, everything about it makes me swoon. Okay, cutting myself off now.

Tagging: @welcometololaland @howtosingit @three-drink-amy just so they know my earlier tags in this post were tags to do this and also @lightningboltreader @orchidscript

@danieljradcliffe @guardian-angle22 @reasonandfaithinharmony @alrightbuckaroo

@cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @nancys-braids @heartstringsduet and anyone else who wants to play 💖 PS. if ao3 user olympia2007 is here on tumblr, I'm tagging you too (and please come say hi)

[specialagentlokitty]

Derek Hale x Sister!reader - forever need you

hello lovely i hope your doing well just wondering if at all possible could at request a derek hale x sister!reader where she doesn't have the werewolf gene which maybe makes Derek a bit more protective of her. one day he finds her crying because she feels as though shes useless as shes not a werewolf and doesn't really contribute to the pack only for derek to comfort her (if that makes any sense)? - Anon💜

Sitting on your hospital bed, you looked at your feet as you ignored the sound of Derek talking to Malissa about why you were hear.

What made you snap back into reality was Malissa crouched down in front of you, resting her arms on her knees as she smiled up at you.

“Hey (Y/N), Derek told me your left arm is bothering you, do you mind if I have a look?”

“No.”

She nodded her head.

“That’s fine, can you just stretch it out for me?”

This you did, you straightened your arm, and when she asked your to bed it you did, wincing a little as a dull pain rose up.

Malissa nodded her head and stood up, writing some things down before she walked back over and held out her hand to you.

“Can I have your hand?”

You shrugged and gave her your hand, letting her test your relaxes, get a feel for how warm or cold your skin was and testing if you could feel things with it.

She seemed happy with everything and Derek looked over at her.

“Is anything wrong?” He asked.

“No, nothing I can see anyway. Without taking a look at her arm I can’t tell for sure if there is something wrong or if it’s something psychological, but I’m not going to push her into showing me. I’d suggest taking a couple of painkillers just to see if it’ll take the pain away.”

Derek nodded his head and you stood up, tossing your bag over your shoulder as you looked at the two.

“Can I go now Mrs McCall?”

“Yeah you can but if that arm gets worse call me okay?”

You nodded your head and quickly left to room, taking Derek’s keys from his hand as you scurried out of the hospital.

You hated this place, and you hated that you were even dragged there in the first place.

Getting in the car, you sat in the passenger seat while you waited for your older brother to come back out.

No doubt he was asking Scott’s mom and different ways to help you and things that he could do to try and ease your constant pain.

Derek finally came out and sat in the car, letting you hand him his keys back before he started it up and left the parking lot.

“Will you let me have a look at your arm?” He asked.

“Why?”

“Malissa told me how to check to see if it was an issue with your skin or not, we need to make sure there’s nothing serious going on.”

“So what if there is? Wouldn’t make much of a difference…” you mumbled.

Derek sighed and glanced at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“You can’t keep up with this (Y/N), you’re healing is going to take a lot longer then expected, something could be really wrong with it. We need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, okay? Drop it.” You spat out.

Derek pulled up on the of the loft and you quickly jumped out of the car and stormed your way upstairs.

You didn’t bother waiting for your brother, you simply just stormed into loft, and straight up the stairs.

“What’s wrong with my favourite niece?” Peter teased.

One glare from you and he instantly went quiet as you went into your room.

Peter frowned and turned to Derek as he walked into the loft and immediately went it the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

“I take it the hospital didn’t go well then.”

“Clearly not.” Derek snapped.

Peter rose his hands in defence and stood up, setting his book aside as he made his way over to Derek and leant against the counter.

Derek told Peter about what had happened, and that you wouldn’t let anyone get close enough to you to help you.

“Let me speak to her.”

“What can you do that I haven’t tried?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

Peter walked up the stairs and knocked on your door.

“What?” You snapped.

“Can I come in? You’re not going to throw anything at me this time are you?”

“No.”

Peter walked in regardless, only managing to dodge the book your threw at him.

He chuckled, tossing it aside as he walked over and dragged a chair to the side of your bed and took a seat.

“Hey, look at me.” Peter said softly.

You looked up from your phone and he held his hand out to you.

You sighed, putting your phone down as you placed your hand in his, letting him gently roll up the sleeve of your hoodie to show the rugged burn scars going all up your arm.

He spent a few minutes slightly looking over them before he clasped his hand around yours.

His veins went black, and you felt the pain slowly ease up into it was gone, and he rolled your sleeves back down.

“I’ll tell Derek and Scott’s mom they look fine, but you need to let Derek look at them as well.” He scolded lightly.

“No I don’t…”

Peter sighed and let you hand go.

“I’m glad you trust me enough to at least show me, but you can trust Derek to you know? He’s your brother, and one day I might not be around to help with your pain.”

“I know…” you mumbled.

“I know the fire affected you badly, it did me as well. But it also affected Derek, and you two need each other, he’s worried about you sweetheart, he’s just trying to look out for you, we all are.”

You didn’t say anything and Peter left you alone.

While they had some pack business to tend to, you stayed hidden in your room, quilt pulled over you as you scrolled through whatever came up on your phone.

Derek was only there for an hour before he decided to leave, he wasn’t that needed by Scott and his pack.

Making his way back home, Derek stopped in the middle of the loft as he smelt a sadness in the air, and he could hear the sound of quiet sobbing.

He ran up the stairs, straight to your room and stopped outside the door, listening for a few seconds before he lightly Knocked.

He heard you sniffle, and the he could hear you mumbled for whoever it was this time to go away.

“(Y/N) I’m coming in.”

He pushed the door open and walked inside, spotting you curled up on your bed he walked over and sat down next to you.

“What’s wrong? Is it your arm? Do I need to take your pain away?”

You shook your head.

“No… I’m fine… Peter already did…”

He frowned a little as he looked at you, pulling your quilt down a little bit to get a better look at you before you quickly pulled it back up again.

“What’s wrong?”

He hated this, he hated seeing you like this knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it.

All he wanted was to go back to that night and make sure you were nowhere near the house, to drag you away from it all. He wanted to just take all your pain, you scars, your sadness, he wanted to take it all and shelter you from it.

Derek placed his hand in the quilt, right above your head.

“I’m.. im so useless Derek…” you sniffled.

Derek frowned and pulled the quilt from your face again.

“Don’t you ever say that, you are no useless (Y/N), okay? You’re far from it.”

You shook your head as you sat up, wiping your eyes with your hands.

“I am! I.. I can’t do anything to help! I can’t.. I can’t help the pack… you… I can’t even help myself…”

Derek saw the way you looked at your arm, and he gently took your arm, placing his other hand over the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Scars don’t make you weak (Y/N), they show that you were stronger then what tried to kill you.”

“Peter has no scars… he lived through the same thing…”

“Peter is a murderous sociopath (Y/N).”

You laughed a little and looked up at your brother.

“You help us more then you know. I know it’s you that leaves the research for me to find, you that messages Scott if you think they’re in danger, you that keeps track of everything going on.”

Derek reached over and pulled you in for a gentle hug.

“You’re not useless okay? You never were. You’re my sole reason for still doing what I do.”

“Why…?” You asked quietly.

Derek pulled away from the hug and took your hands in his.

“Because if I lost you, I would have nothing, no reason, no sanity. You were always my whole world (Y/N), my strong little sister who can fight through anything without werewolf powers.”

You smiled a little at Derek and he smiled back.

“There’s that smile I haven’t seen in years.” He said gently.

You lunged forward and hugged Derek tightly, a soft smile on your face as he happily held you back.

Derek leant back against the wall, holding you against him as he whispered how much he loved you, and needed you.

Werewolf or not, Derek would always need his little sister, his best friend, his saviour

[thetangycheesemanwithaplan]

Some speculation I have for the next episode!

Yes I'e been having a lot of speculation and maybe (most likely) i'll be wrong but its just some fun ideas I've been having

I talked about this with @buck-up-buck and she is a prophet (check out her posts here to see her vision-with a small contribution from me about the AA meeting being a thing) she has some theories that happen after this theory of mine which I'm excited for her to share with you all as she see's the shrimp colours.

And so with what we've seen in the promo, the still that Tim has shared (I have brightened it so it can be a bit clearer) here's what I think will happen. Especially in this still

So firstly the order of events I believe will be the AA meeting then the Bathena conversation and then the motel drama, just as we are shown in the promo. There will be other things sprinkled in but the next two eps will be very Bobby centric. So when i saw this still i immediately thought of the following ideas/spec:

So Amir makes his speech at the AA meeting, it slowly dawns on Bobby the connection they share and obviously this sends Bobby mentally spiralling. It's been 10 years since the fire and Bobbys come far but hearing from someone who he affected by his past actions is definitely going to stir up shit (duh). I feel like we may get some flashbacks to the fire, maybe even Amir's perspective (how he got his scars) because our boy Amir is angry (you saw his stare, seeing bobby has reignited his fire). I feel like Bobby may attempt to speak to him after but Amir is angry and storms out or Bobby is in shock and cant say anything.

We then see the conversation with Bathena. It looks like Athena was asleep and Bobby hadn't come to bed yet. Athena woke up and came looking for Bobby to find him hunched over his laptop going into a bit of a dive on Amir and who he was and who he lost. Athena maybe talks to him about it and Bobby is very much adamant on making amends (Step 9). Athena wants to support him but the sergeant in her is concerned at this guy. So she supports him in the moment but hatches her own little plan.

And here is where we see the still (it's clearly at the hospital)

Athena has found out where this guy works and goes to speak to him. Amir is just finishing his shift when Athena catches him. She introduces her self and that she's Bobby's wife. Amir is immediately angered by this but keeps himself calm, only showing annoyance. Athena talks about how she knows who he is through Bobby and that she's sorry for Amir's loss. She expresses concern for how he raised the issue to Bobby and asks that they can work towards making amends. She says that Bobby has come so far to turn his life around (gives examples of what Bobby has accomplished. Captain of the 118, his new family with her and the steps he has taken in recovery) and all he wants to do is carry on moving forward. She doesn't want this incident to cause Bobby to fall of the wagon, they've been through a lot and she's concerned (she also getting alarm bells from this guys so is trying to gauge his intent whilst also trying to clear the air)

I think this angers Amir, again he wont show it but it sparks something in him further than what has already been sparked. He starts scheming (@buck-up-buck's theories about the loft burning down hehe) I feel like he'll make some comment to Athena about how he's glad Bobby could move on so easily whilst everyone else was left cleaning up the mess(throw back to the comment he made to Maddie) Obviously Athena defends her husband and says something like "it was far from easy, he clawed his way out of the darkest place and fought tooth and nail to get where he is now. If he can do it so can you." cause Athena has clocked that this guy is massively holding a grudge.

But Amir doesn't want to hear it and maybe just says something like 'Good for him' before walking away from the conversation.Amir is angry because its been 10 years and he's still affected by the fire, he hasn't let go of the pain and the hurt (as he mentioned in his speech) but now seeing that the guy who caused it has a new family, that he's moved on and is happy, is captain of a firehouse (irony not lost on him) and Amir has been left scared and hurt and his life hasn't bounced back just absolutely fuels his revenge plan.

Athena tells Bobby that she tried to reason with Amir but there was no reasoning with him and that he's very angry still. She tells Bobby she knows he needs to make amends and he should but also says he should be careful and wait for him to calm down a bit first and that whatever he does he shouldn't do it alone. Bobby of course listens and agrees but also he understands Amir better than anyone and thinks he can get through to him (remember Bobby is shook up by this whole thing and won't make the smartest decisions) so when Amir reaches out and asks Bobby to meet at the Easy Motel, Bobby does go and then, Amir starts his revenge

Amir wants Bobby to suffer again like he did (he doesn't acknowledge that Bobby did loose everything in that fire, he's to blinded by his own grief and mad that Bobby has a shiny new life and seems unbothered by his past to listen to reason) he wants to rip Bobby's family away from him, saying he doesn't deserve a second chance.

[radioactive-earthshine]

Truck or treat~ 🧛

Hope you have a lovely spooky night!

🧛‍♀️ A TREAT! 🎃

Here is more of the KonBart unpublished "coming back to life blues" fic.

Enjoy!

👻

Inside the barn loft was a magical place. It was for Clark when he was a teenager almost 30 years ago and it was to Kon too. Fairy lights hung on the unfinished ceiling casting them in a soft yellow glow while outside silver stars glittered. There was an old old old hide-a-bed type couch pushed against the wall that looked like it was from the 80s and it likely was. Kon wasn’t bothered by sitting on it though and he watched amusedly as Bart explored the loft. 

“Dude this place is cool! How come you never showed me this?! Hey, izzat that a telescope?!” Bart was at the window and his eye was pressed to the eyepiece before Kon registered the question. 

“Yep, belonged to Clark back when he was our age.” 

“Woah… I can see the neighbor’s farm!” Bart said with a grin but then it suddenly  fell as he pulled his face away from the telescope. “Maybe I can see a little too much of the neighbors heh. Guess no need for curtains when you’re this rural. You said this was Clark’s?” 

Kon made an awkward grimace and he did not want to think about the more creepy implications of that telescope. “I’m sure he was looking at the stars, Bart.” 

“Do you think you can see Krypton’s star?” Bart suddenly asked as he sat next to Kon, the couch was worn down from decades of use and he fell a little deeper into the couch than he expected but righted himself almost instantly. 

“Krypton’s star?” Kon repeated and he looked out the window towards the dark. “I’m not sure.” 

“Well Krypton was from our galaxy so you might be able to find its star. Do you think that’s why Clark has the telescope? Was he looking for where he came from?” 

“That’s… a good question. I really don’t know,” Kon admitted and he thought about Clark. He thought about him at his age, feeling alone and scared of his forming abilities, knowing he wasn’t human but also feeling so connected to humanity because it was the only thing he knew. He imagined him worrying if he was a threat, if he was always going to be loved, if he was going to be rejected the second he was found out that he was an alien, and finally he imagined him looking through that telescope to see if he could find something to latch onto to make it all make sense. 

Kon wondered if while Clark had all those feelings did he also feel guilty about having them because he was loved. 

“You asked me how I just accepted not feeling like I belonged.” Bart’s voice carved Kon away from his thoughts. 

“Yeah,” Kon sighed. “Out of all my issues being a clone and all the shit-terrific things I’ve been through, I never felt like I didn’t belong here. How did you do it?” 

Bart stared out that window as he answered him and his voice was weighted. “I admit, it never really bothered me. I always knew that no matter what, I’d be the speedster that just didn’t fit with the others. I’m not supposed to be here Kon, I was born one thousand years in the future to two families that should never have met, and I should have died twice before even coming here! I’m like a red sprite in a lightning storm. I’m an anomaly that just showed up that people had to deal with. I’m weird and because of that I am never going to belong, really. No matter what I do, no matter how much I try to conform, even if I read the entire contents of the San Francisco Library will I make myself fit better.” 

“So that’s why you-” 

Bart cut him off with a wave of his hand. “It didn’t bother me until I started seeing people not believe in me. I got tired of people thinking I was stupid and I tried to make myself be someone they all wanted me to be and I’ll be honest, it fucking sucked!” 

Kon suddenly felt guilty for all the times he called him an ‘idiot’ or a ‘nimrod’, but before he could even try to apologize Bart kept talking. “When you died Kon, it really made my whole earth shake, you know? It made me really start thinking about myself, where I wanted to be, who I was and then… BAM, there I am dead as dead can get too. Well, for a speedster anyway.”  “Being dead sucks by the way,” Kon revealed even though he didn’t remember much of anything. Only a vague feeling of contentment and loneliness.