#He doesn’t get impatient when I’m two seconds late!!!!! He doesn’t ask me to do things with the underlying expectation for me to say yes!!!

[skhardwarevers1]

tireedddddddd time to do my new favorite thing (stare at msgs between me and my bf)

[shockercoco]

Excuse Me?

Benny Cross x reader

Warnings - just fluff, dad!benny, some swear words

Word count - 2105

a/n - read the full request here - this was supposed to be posted a couple days after I got the request, but my headaches decided to come back, so here we are 2 weeks later lol. I hope you enjoy :)

“Sweetheart, you can’t just grab everything you see and throw it into the basket,” Benny sighs as he looks down at his daughter.

Little Violet was standing on her tippy toes trying to put a bag of chips inside the basket Benny was holding, but she froze at the sound of Benny’s voice. She drops her hands to her sides before pouting up at Benny. 

“Don’t give me that look. Mommy gave us a list and told us to only buy what we need. We don’t wanna make mommy upset do we?” Benny gives Violet a look, causing her to stomp back down the aisle to put the chip bag on the shelf. 

Benny held in his laugh because he knew it would only upset Violet more. 

Before you left for work that morning, you had looked through the pantry to see what you needed to buy from the store on your way home. The grocery store was right next to the cosmetics store where you worked, so you didn’t mind stopping by after.

Benny thought it would be a good idea to get some fresh air with Violet, so he offered to go shopping for you — this way, he could kill two birds with one stone and also give you a ride home. 

You were hesitant at first because Benny wasn’t the best at picking out the correct items, and you knew Violet would give Benny a hard time and beg him to buy anything that looked interesting to her four-year-old eyes. Since you were running late and didn’t have the time to mull it over, you agreed and quickly jotted down everything you needed on a piece of paper.

So now here the troublesome pair was in the store making their way down the list and the aisles. 

“Do you wanna help daddy finish the list?” Benny asks Violet, trying to cheer her up.

She was still pouting, but now she had her arms crossed as she walked alongside her father. Violet shook her head at Benny and kept looking down at the ground.

It’s obvious where Violet gets her stubbornness from..

Benny rolls his eyes as he bends down to Violet’s eye level. “You know it’s not nice to ignore someone, we’ve talked about this,” Benny says, but Violet still doesn’t look up at him.

Then he gets an idea.

“Okay, how about this. You help me, and I’ll let you pick out something for yourself before we leave,” Benny tells her, and that catches Violet’s attention.

Violet looks at him for a second, before holding out one her hands and offering Benny her pinky. 

Benny smiles as he wraps his own pinky around his daughter’s. “I pinky promise.”

The rest of the grocery list gets crossed off easily — with Violet’s help — and as promised, Benny lets Violet roam the aisles to try and figure out what she wants. He thought it would be a quick thing, but Violet has been walking around for at least ten minutes.

“Sweetheart, it’s not that hard to make a decision,” Benny tells her as he glances down at his watch.

“I’m thinking!” she huffs. Benny throws his hands up in defense.

“What about the chips I told you to put back earlier, why don’t you just get those?” he suggests, growing impatient.

“No,” she glares up at him, before continuing down the aisle. Benny runs a hand down his face as he reluctantly follows her.

Finally, after a long process of elimination, Violet settles on a bag of candy. When Benny offers to hold it for her, she quickly draws her hand back, wanting to hold it herself.

“Okay miss independent,” Benny mumbles, but ignores her and heads towards the check out line.

Violet proudly hands the cashier her candy, which the girl gladly scans before handing it back to Violet with a smile.

“What do you say?” Benny asks Violet as he pulls out his wallet to pay.

“Thank you,” Violet smiles up at the cashier.

“Well, you are most welcome,” the cashier gushes at her, before looking back at Benny, “She is so cute.”

Benny quickly thanks her as he hands her cash for the groceries.

The cashier takes the money and counts it, and just as she begins to give Benny his change back she innocently asks, “Where���s her mother, is she around?” 

Benny was grossed out — one: because the girl looked kike she was in high school, and two: because the girl had the audacity to ask a question like that.

“Yeah,” he curtly says as he tucks the change back in his wallet. 

The girl seemed disappointed at Benny’s answer, but Benny didn’t care. He grabs Violet’s hand in one of his and grabs the grocery bags in the other before heading out the store.

“Why did she ask about mommy?” Violet asks, looking up at Benny.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, it’s not important,” Benny shakes his head. He’s glad when Violet quickly dismisses it and directs her attention to a tiny dog in some lady’s purse walking past them. The lady sees Violet eyeing the dog and stops to let her pet it.

After putting the groceries in the car and prying Violet away from the dog, Benny motions for Violet to hold his hand so they could start walking to your job and wait for your shift to finish.

 “Daddy, can we get a dog?” Violet asks as they walk, her bag of candy still in her other hand.

Benny’s about to respond and tell her no when a middle aged woman steps into his path. The lady had a couple bags of groceries in one of her hands and one hand on her hip, an unpleasant look on her face. Benny goes to step around her, but the lady quickly blocks him. 

When she opens her mouth, Benny expects her to address him, but instead the lady bends down to become eye level with his daughter. His grip tightens on Violet’s hand, but doesn’t make a move to do anything else, wanting to see what the woman has to say since it’s clearly important to her.

“Hey, sweetie, where’s your mother?” the woman asks Violet and Benny’s face contorts in frustration.

“What is up with these women today?” he thinks.

Violet opens her mouth to answer, but before she could get a word out, Benny speaks up. “Violet, we don’t talk to strangers, remember?”

Violet looks up and gives him a nod, quickly closing her mouth.

“Is there somethin’ I can help you with, ma’am?” Benny asks, trying to keep his tone pleasant in front of his daughter.

“Yeah, is this little girl yours?” she glares, standing back up to look at Benny.

What the fuck?

“What does it matter to you?” Benny asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I just want to know what someone like you is doing with a child,” the woman says.

“What? Do I know you or somethin’,” Benny questions.

“No, but I know all about you Vandals, and I know that you guys are nothing but trouble with all your motorcycles and drinking. Riding a bike is too important to you guys, making it impossible for you men to care about anything else, let alone a family.”

Benny wasn’t even wearing his colors today. After Violet was born, he stopped being so reckless and decided to stop riding so much. He didn’t want to be thrown in jail and have his daughter start her life without a father, not to mention the fact that he would be missing out on the beginning of her life.  

He rarely wears his colors or any type of leather in public anymore, so Benny’s confused on how this lady knows who he is. Then again, he used to cause a lot of trouble back then to the point where everyone knew who he was as soon as he stepped foot inside of a bar or restaurant. That was a long time ago, though, and Benny isn’t that lost soul anymore.

“Listen lady, you have no idea what you’re talking about, so if you’d please move out of the way, I’ll go about my day,” Benny says. He doesn’t wait for her to answer and tries to walk around her once again, but of course, she stops him.  Benny clenches his jaw.

“You’re not going anywhere until I know that this child is yours,” she folds her arms.

A few people stare at them as they walk by or get into their cars. 

“That’s none of your business,” Benny scoffs.

“It is when I’m concerned for this child’s wellbeing,” the lady states matter-of-factly, pointing down at Violet.

Violet looks up at her father in confusion. She’s not sure what’s going on, but since it’s obvious that Benny doesn’t like the lady in front of her, she decides that she shouldn’t like her either.

Benny lets out a frustrated sigh and looks at Violet to ask, “Violet, do you feel safe with me?”

Violet just nods, moving closer to Benny’s leg.

“See,” Benny says to the woman, “she’s fine.”

“That doesn’t mean anything at all,” the lady says.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this. Please move,” Benny tells her through gritted teeth. His patience is wearing thin.

But the lady doesn’t move, and instead continues to stare Benny down.

“What’s going on here?” you ask as you walk up behind the lady.

Benny and Violet were so occupied with the woman, that neither of them realized you were walking toward them. 

“Thank god, someone else is concerned,” the lady mumbles before turning to face you. “I just want to make sure that this little girl belongs to this man, but he’s being difficult.”

“The little girl looks fine to me,” you tell her, giving Violet a smile to which she happily returns.

“But you can’t be too sure of that, the man is practically squeezing this little girl’s arm to keep her next to him,” the lady says.

Your eyebrows furrow and you look over at Benny in confusion. Benny just shrugs and rolls his eyes.

“Well, I think it’s obvious that nothing strange is going on here, so why don’t you go,” you try to reassure the woman.

“I’m not going anywhere until I’m certain, I’ll call the police if I have to.”

“What’s your name?” you ask the lady, taking a couple steps closer to her.

“Cheryl,” she answers. 

“Listen, Cheryl, I don’t know why you think you’re trying to do, but it’s time for you to walk away. That man is my husband, and the child is mine. If that’s not enough for you, I don’t care. You clearly need attention so go find it from someone else, or better yet, get a life,” you say, walking past the lady to go stand next to Benny.

Cheryl’s mouth parts in disbelief as she looks between you and Benny.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say? Did you want to bitch and complain some more?” you ask. Benny's eyes widen in surprise, you rarely swear. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.

Cheryl holds her head up high and clears her throat to reply, “I’ll be on my way.”

“Good. Go play vigilante somewhere else, bitch,” you roll your eyes.

The lady looks like wants to say something else, but she doesn’t. You watch her let out an annoyed breath before turning around and walking away.

When she’s out of earshot, you look up at Benny. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. She knew I was Vandal and just assumed the worst. It doesn’t really matter anymore,” Benny answers, watching the woman walk away.

“Looks like your past is coming up to you,” you let out a laugh resulting in Benny sending you a playful glare.

As you all start walking back to the car, Violet comes to your side and tugs your hand for you to look down at her. Benny watches as Violet holds her bag of candy up for you to see. 

“Uh oh,” he mumbles and pretends to be distracted by the keys in his hand.

“A whole bag, Benny? You couldn’t have just bought her a lollipop or something?” you look over at him and wait for him to look back at you.

“Well what was I supposed to do, say no?” he throws his hands up.

“Yeah, I do it all the time,” you nod.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d actually like to stay on her good side,” Benny says, placing his hand on top of Violet's head.

like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[vodika-vibes]

True Love

Summary: Fives is a man on a mission. His mission? Remind his riduur that she’s the only one for him.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 828

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, full disclosure, this was supposed to be the event request for @l0nesome-dreams but I only read the first part of the request and went, yes, ideas, and only realized I went off the rails when I finished writing it, lol. SO. That will be properly written at a later point in time. So, uh, have a random Fives story?

The worst part of having a secret wife, is the fact that he can’t be as blunt to the people flirting with him as he’d prefer. The second worst thing is the fact that his brothers think that he’s lonely and needs help getting dates.

That leads him to this situation. Where an, admittedly pretty, woman is leaning into his personal space, and his mind is racing for what to say that won’t be too insulting, but also won’t out the fact that he’s a happily married man.

She leans further into his personal space, and Fives takes a half step back, keeping some distance between them. He glances at his chrono and his heart sinks. He’s late. 

His poor riduur is probably wondering where he is.

The woman leans closer to him, and Fives moves quickly to keep her from touching him, “Aww…you’re shy.”

“Look, I’m flattered, but I’m really not interested.” He says.

“Your brothers said that you would say that.” She smiles at him, it’s a pretty smile, but Fives really isn’t interested in her. “I can go as slow as you like.”

“Again,” Fives says slowly, “I’m flattered, but not interested.” He glances at the chrono one more time, maybe, if he’s quick, he can stop at the bakery that his riduur likes so much and get her a lemon bar.

The woman huffs, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

Fives grabs the chance with both hands, “Yes. Actually. And I’m late. If you’ll excuse me.” He almost makes it to the entrance of the Club before Rex flings his arm over his shoulder, “Son of a kriffing-”

“Where are you going, Fives?” Rex asks.

“Cap, Rex, I’m late. I have to go.”

“Oh? Have a hot date?”

Fives doesn’t answer, and he averts his gaze from his brothers, it’s a damned shame he isn’t a better liar, “I just have to pick something up before the store closes.”

“We went through all of this trouble to help you find a date, vod-”

“I’m not interested.” Fives blurts, “Not in her. Not in anyone you’ll ever pick for me. Rex, I have to go. I’m late.”

Rex presses his hand against Fives’ chest plate, “Late for what?”

Fives flounders, and then he sighs, “I was supposed to meet my wife half an hour ago, and if I leave now I can bring her a lemon bar from her favorite bakery to make up for being late. Can I go?”

“You’re married!?”

“REX!”

“Yes! Go.”

Fives pushes past his brother and out of the club.

He’s lucky, the bakery is still open when he arrives, and he’s able to get a whole box of the lemon bars his riduur prefers, before he runs home. He takes the stairs two at a time and impatiently keys in the door code before he stops in the front hallway.

Home smells like her. Like vanilla and flowers and everything good and nice in the galaxy that he never thought that he’d have. Home also smells like stew and fresh baked bread.

Fives quickly pulls his armor off, with one hand, and he heads into the kitchen. His riduur, his perfect beautiful Riduur, is still making dinner.

Thank the Force.

“I’m home,”

She turns and a bright smile crosses her face when she sees him, “Fives, welcome home.” She lays her spoon over the pot and turns to greet him with a hug, “You stopped at the bakery?”

“I know that I’m late-” Fives replies as he sets the box on the table, “So I stopped and got your favorite dessert.”

She giggles and presses a hand to her mouth, “I got a late start too, honestly. I’m sorry dinner isn’t ready.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.” He settles his hands on her hips and leans in to lightly press his forehead against hers, “Rex and the others dragged me to 79s.” He admits, “They think, thought, that I was lonely.”

“Oh?”

“They set me up on a blind date,” Fives adds.

A glimmer of uncertainty crosses her face, “Was she pretty?”

“I suppose. I wasn’t paying attention.” He brings one hand up to brush her cheek, “I was thinking about you.”

She ducks her head, a blush crossing her face, “You’re a sap.”

“True.” Fives kisses her gently, “I had to tell Rex about you before he’d let me leave.”

“Oh, Fives-”

“It’s okay. I doubt I’ll get into much trouble.” He kisses her one more time, “Don’t you worry about it. You won’t get into trouble, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“I know. Don’t worry, Rex is reasonable.” He kisses her again and again, “Now, how much still needs to be done for dinner, and how can I help?”

“Um…a lot. How about you go shower and change, and you can help after?”

“Deal.” He catches her lips in one more kiss, “Love you, riduur.”

She sighs, a dreamlike smile on her face, “Love you more.”

[penkura]

You want ideas, I'll give you ideas owo I know you like Zoro too, so best of both world I assume. Reader got hit during an attack and when reader wakes up she can't remember anything/anyone at all. Zoro/Sanji is in a realtionship with reader and feeling unsure if reader forgot it as well. Reader is super shy/nervous and interested in some else. (If you go for Zoro as bf, maybe reader is interested in Sanji and the other way around) Another idea: You've been dating for a long time and Sanji still hasn't proposed. One evening you get impatient and are completely drunk and proposed to him. He loves you but reject it, cuz he believe that this is a "Man's job" to do.

Of course this would work for others as well if you don't see Sanji in this kind of scenarios :) If you need more inspiration/prompts (especially Law/Penguin/Shachi) hit me up. My mind is overflowing with ideas right now.

Take care of you <3

I love the second prompt and may have to come back for the first one later on. 👀

For now though! Sanji gets more attention from me, and I made this one in a modern setting, hope that's okay! 💚

It’s very rare for you to indulge in alcohol as much as Zoro normally does, but for once you’ve let go and decided to have more than what you usually do. It’s not your fault that you’ve been seeing your friends get engaged or married lately and it makes you feel like you and Sanji are way behind the rest of them. You two have been together for a few years, but he still hasn’t proposed or even asked you to move into his apartment with him, what’s the deal? It’s been so long, you just want to know you aren’t wasting your time with him.

Okay, maybe it is all on you, since you haven’t even voiced this to Sanji, only to Nami and Robin, the two looking concerned when you cried over your drink to them, before they started to drag you to Sanji’s place for the night. You sleep over there enough as it is, you really should just move in already, even Nami has said that multiple times.

Sanji isn’t even expecting you that night, you’d told him you were going out with Nami and Robin, so he’s surprised when they bring you buy and you’re a crying, drunken mess when you see him and you’re shoved into his arms. For a moment he worries someone did something to you, he’s ready to find out which bar you’d gone to and fight whoever upset you, before Nami just sighs.

“She’s upset with you, so you better hurry up and make it right.”

He’s confused, but Sanji doesn’t question Nami as she leaves, instead turning to you when you whine and snuggle your face in his shirt. It makes him smile and kiss the top of your head, before you push yourself off him and give him a glare that doesn’t really work with you being drunk.

“My love, are you all right?”

“No……I’m mad at you…”

He tilts his head, especially confused when you lean against him again. Sanji takes that as his cue to lead you into his kitchen and start making you some tea, after he gives you a glass of water. He’s got to start sobering you up, it might be the only way he gets an answer out of you as to why you’re upset with him. While he works, Sanji has you set at the table with a glass of water, but the tears in your eyes while you watch him don’t go unnoticed, he gives you a slight smile that makes you try to glare again.

“What is it, love?”

“I wanna marry you…”

“O-oh…yeah?”

You pout with a nod, as Sanji goes back to making your tea. It’s like he doesn’t even care, you just you want to marry him. He should be happy about it right? But he just ignores you almost, and it makes you even more upset.

“Sanjiiii…”

“Hmm?”

“Will you,” you hiccup a bit which makes him smile, “will you marry me…?”

Taking a breath, Sanji waits a moment before he responds to you, wondering if you even realize that you’ve said. You’ll probably forget by morning, but he should clarify things for you.

“No, my love, I can’t accept that proposal. “

“Why nooooot?”

“Because it’s my job to ask you that.”

You stay quiet after that as Sanji finishes making you both some tea and brings it over to you. You don’t touch your drink for a few minutes, Sanji asking if you were okay while you look at him still with tears in your eyes.

“…why haven’t you asked me yet?”

Another deep breath, Sanji sighs and places a kiss on your forehead, causing you to lay your head on his shoulder. He hopes you’ll sleep quickly, but you put your arms around his shoulders and just look up at him, though he can tell you’re starting to doze off so he doesn’t push for you to drink more of your tea, instead picking you up and taking you to his bed to tuck you in.

“Because,” Sanji makes sure you’re properly in bed and asleep before he smiles to himself while he watches you, “It’s not your birthday for a few more weeks. But I promise, I’ll ask you then.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

How did Bruce find out that the paparazzi knew about shop girl 👀

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Warnings: Angst; fluff; cursing; not beta-read

“Check your email.” 

“It’s nice to hear from you, too, Liz. Lovely weather we’re having,” Bruce bats back sarcastically. 

“Bruce,” Liz presses, “Put me on speaker and check your fucking email. Hurry.”

Bruce frowns at the edge of panic in Liz’s voice. He does as she orders, drawing his phone back from his ear and swiping to his email. He sees one from Liz there–something forwarded with the subject: Bruce Wayne New Bit - Proof and Profile

His brow furrows as he taps the email open, and he sucks in a sharp breath. Son of a bitch. He knew he’d seen something just before they’d left Gran Canaria. It had only been a second, just out of the corner of his eye, but the flash of a camera had been unmistakable. Still, he'd second-guessed himself when none had followed. He scrolls down to the next photo, cursing as he sees a picture of the two of them kissing in the lobby that morning. Goddamnit, he should’ve been more careful. 

“When did you get this?” He asks. 

“A friend of a friend sent it to me and asked for comment.” 

“Fuck.” 

“It’s going out today, Bruce.” 

“I’ll stop it.” 

“It’s too late to stop it.” 

Bruce pushes a frustrated breath through his nose, his fingers flexing around the phone. He has the urge to chuck it into the wall. He hesitates, then takes a few cursory steps toward the penthouse windows. He peers down onto the street, growling as he spots the gathering news vans. 

“...What are you gonna do?” Liz asks. 

“I can’t bring her back here, they’ll swarm us,” Bruce shakes his head, “And I can’t go get her.”

“Swarm.” 

“Exactly.” 

“How about I send Grant to get her? They know one another, it won’t be that weird. He can bring her to the penthouse.” 

“I don’t think the penthouse is a good idea right now.” His gaze darts to the buildings across from him, eyeing the odd flash of a camera. “Besides, she’s working.” 

“I’m sure wherever she’s working will let her go for the rest of the day.” 

They probably would, now that they must all know she’s dating the boss. Fuck. She wanted to get this without him, she didn’t want to trade on his name. Now everyone in the office is going to think she slept her way into that job. Frustration and anger burrow into his chest. Of all days—of all the fucking days, she doesn’t deserve for this to happen to her today. 

“...Liz?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Let me call you back, I’ll uh—I’ll call her, see what she wants to do.” 

“Alright. Say the word, Grant’ll get in the car.” 

“Thanks.” 

He ends the call and wandered away from the window, his heart pounding in his chest. He opens to her contact, hits the call button, and waits…And waits…And waits…Only for it to go to voicemail. Maybe she’s seen the story already and she doesn’t want to talk to him right now. He presses the call button again…and waits…and goddamnit, pick up the phone—

“Is everything alright?” 

Bruce whirls around at the question, spotting Alfred and shaking his head.

“Could you call her?” Bruce asks, “She’s not answering me.” 

“She may be in a meeting.” 

“On the first day?” Bruce frowns. 

“Such things can happen.” Alfred draws his phone out of his pocket regardless. Bruce waits impatiently, watching as Alfred waits…And then shakes his head. “No answer.”

“Try again?” 

“This wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with the accumulation of reporters and paparazzi outside, would it?” 

“It might,” Bruce grimaces. Alfred grunts, trying her phone again. Bruce feels his phone buzz and looks down, doing a double-take at the sight of her name. He raises his hand to Alfred, waving the call off as he answers the phone, raising it to his ear. 

“Hey,” Bruce starts, “I need to warn you, there’s a—” 

“There are people outside, all around the building!” 

The panicked quiver in her voice makes him feel helpless. Aw, hell, he didn’t want this. He listens, letting his eyes slide closed as she adds, “Everyone in the office has seen it, and—And I was just going to go out and get lunch and now I can’t leave, I don't know what to do—” 

“It’s okay,” Bruce reassures, though he’s almost entirely certain that it absolutely isn’t. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll get some food ordered to your office so you won’t have to go anywhere—I’ll use Alfred’s name,” He hurries to add before she can argue, “Liz’s boyfriend is going to come pick you up after work. I can have him get you in the parking lot. I’ll drive by in a different car, pull their attention away from you. We’ll go to the Manor and get out of the city for the night. We can…Regroup out there. Okay?” 

There’s a moment of deathly silence on the other end, chased by a soft sniffle. It strikes him right in the heart. He wants to be there. He wants to wipe away any tears that may be escaping her eyes, to pull her into his chest and promise her that everything’s going to be alright, that he’ll take care of her.

“Okay.” Her concession is soft, chased by a, “Thank you.” 

“It’s going to be alright, baby. I’ll take care of it. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“See you.” 

It’s a glum mumble before she hangs up the phone. Bruce sighs heavily, lowering the phone to text Liz.

“What a fucking mess,” He mutters. 

“Shall I pack a few of her things for overnight?” 

“Yes, please,” Bruce nods, shooting Alfred a grateful smile before looking down at his phone again. 

--  

The rest of the day is hell. You do your best to keep your calm, to hold your head up high and not waver or flinch at the questioning glances of your coworkers. By the time you’re heading to the garage (looking for Grant in his grey Mazda Miata), you’re worn out. You get into the car, buckling up and sliding down in your seat. 

Grant casts you a sympathetic smile.

“You okay?” He asks. 

No, you’re awful. You’re in a shit mood. You’re tired, and upset, and completely at loose ends, you want to fold like a deck chair and sob until you're out of tears—

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just, um...Long day,” You shake your head. “Long, weird day.” 

“I went through it, too,” Grant sympathizes. “When they found out about me and Liz. It never hangs around long. A couple of weeks of craziness and then they move on to the next couple. They’ll fuck off in a bit. You’ll be old news.” 

“I’d prefer to have never been news in the first place.”  

“I know. Sorry,” Grant reaches out, patting your shoulder gently. 

“...Grant?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why aren’t we moving?” 

“I’m waiting for Bruce to text and uh—lemme know when he’s going to drive by. He’s gonna go pick up Liz, try and divert attention.” 

Oh, great. That’s all you need. Bruce being seen with Liz, you being seen with Grant, and the inevitable press coverage of an alleged love square. You slide even further down in your seat as Grant finally started up the car. 

“Put your elbow on the window,” He advises, “And cover your face with your hand, like you’re trying to sleep. On the off-chance someone does watch us instead of Bruce, they won’t get all of your face.” 

“You’ve done this before.” 

“Many, many times.” 

--  

You’ve heard a lot about the Manor, but being there is…Something else. You arrive with Grant before Liz and Bruce get there. You smile weakly at the sight of Alfred. 

“Is there somewhere I could just go and sit for a little while?” You ask. 

“I’ll show you to Master Wayne’s room. Please excuse us,” He nods to Grant before waving an arm toward a room off to the left. “There are drinks prepared in the sitting room.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit,” Grant smiles. 

“Yeah. And—Thanks, again.”

“Anytime.” 

--  

Bruce’s bedroom is different from the one at the penthouse. It’s furnished far more grandly. Hell, from what you’ve seen so far, the whole Manor is. You kick your shoes off and pace, unable to keep still. Your belly squirms with discomfort and upset. What the hell are you going to do? You just started this fucking job, you can’t quit now—but fuck, it’s so tempting. You’ll be getting even more looks now that everyone knows that you're with Bruce. No one’s going to believe that you got the job on your own merit—except, maybe the hiring manager. Still, you didn’t expect them to go out of the way to extol your experience to everyone at the fucking foundation—

“There you are.” 

You turn at the sound of Bruce’s voice. You hardly have a chance to get a look at him before you’re barrelling into his arms. He catches hold of you without a second’s hesitation, drawing you to his chest. He rests a hand on the back of your neck, gently sweeping his thumb over your nape as you fall apart. You can’t stop the tears that you’ve been holding back any longer. You do try, but you draw in a breath just a touch too deep, and it all comes spilling out. You fist your hands in the fabric of his t-shirt, sniffling. Bruce presses a kiss to your temple. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” He murmurs. “I didn’t have time to stop it. I should’ve been more careful.” 

It’s an apology that you’re getting more and more lately—when he’s come home late, when he’s come home hurt. He should’ve been more careful. Hell, in this instance, maybe you both should’ve been more careful. You draw back, scrubbing your hands over your face as Bruce rubs his hands comfortingly over your shoulders. You blink the tears away, sniffling still. 

“You wanna lie down?” He asks. 

“We shouldn’t,” You shake your head. “Liz and Grant are downstairs.” 

“They’ll keep.” 

You laugh in spite of yourself, some of your upset melting as Bruce’s face lights up at your smile.

“We should get down there,” You insist, “And um…We should figure out what we’re doing tonight.”

“Alfred packed a bag of your things. We can stay here if it’s easier.” 

You sigh heavily, leaning into him and pressing your face into his neck. 

“You think of everything, don’t you,” You mumble. 

“Pretty much…Though Alfred should really get the credit for that one.” 

“I’ll have to thank him.” 

“Long as you don’t thank him the same way you usually thank me—Ow!” He laughs as you pinch him in the arm.

--  

“...Did any of that help at all?” 

Bruce mumbles the question, and you can hear that he’s on the edge of sleep. It’s a surprise. Maybe he feels so bad about what’s happened that he’s insisting on spending the night in with you. Frankly, you’re not entirely sure that you care why. You just cuddle into his side and peer at the window. 

Frankly, speaking with Liz and Grant about what had happened to them did help quite a bit. It made your experience feel far less singular, though it’s still been moderately jarring. Besides, they’d helped you and Bruce strategize on how best to keep your heads down, your name out of the paper, so long as it could be helped. 

“Yes,” You admit. “Quite a bit.” 

“Good.” 

Bruce’s hand rubs tenderly over your back, nuzzling against your forehead gently. 

“There’s one thing we didn’t talk about,” He adds after a moment. 

“Mm? What’s that?” 

“You can back out.” 

It snaps you fully awake. Your heart stutters in your chest. You reel back and twist to face him, peering down at him in the dark, expecting, hoping for a teasing grin—but Bruce’s face is set with grim sincerity. 

“...You can’t be serious,” You shake your head. 

“It’s only fair that we discuss—” 

“Shut up.” 

It’s not normally a tack that you’d take with Bruce, but you’re tired, and you’re upset, and now, you’re pissed. 

“How dare you say that to me,” You shake your head, voice almost deathly quiet.

“It’s an offer—” 

“It’s bullshit,” You insist. “After every fucking thing we’ve been through—After spending a night watching over you, certain that I was going to lose you, you think I’m going to crumble because I had a fucking camera shoved in my face?” 

“I just mean,” He pushes himself to sit up and meet your eye, “That it’s one thing after another. I’m used to it, I know it can get tiring—” 

“Well I’m getting pretty fucking used to it, myself.”  

“I know.” 

Bruce’s voice is gentle and appeasing. He takes hold of your hand as you sigh heavily, lowering your gaze to your hands where they’re joined above the sheets. 

“Honestly,” You mumble, scrubbing your other hand over your eyes. “I love you way too much to be scared off from you, or from work. I can handle it, I just…I need some time to adjust. I’ll adjust.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment before he reaches out, curling his arm around your waist and drawing you into his side, pressing his face into your neck. You feel him speak. His lips brush against your neck, his words tickle your skin—but you can’t really hear what he says. You frown, turning your head in his direction a little. 

“What was what?” You press. 

Bruce seems to breathe you in before he rests his chin on your shoulder, his forehead resting against your cheekbone. He repeats himself, and your eyes slip shut. You could fold in on yourself. You could explode. Your hand tightens around his, tipping your head against him as his words ring through you:

“I love you, too, baby.”

Next Part

[charliehoennam]

The Conception

A/N: another request by the lovely @juniebugg ❤ didn't have time to proofread so sorry for any mistakes!

Pairing: Dark!quentin beck x f!reader

Summary: quentin concocts a plan to test his precious technology (takes place before he goes rogue)

Warnings: smut, dub-con/non-con, sex without protection (wrap ur willy when it gets silly), rough sex, language. 18+ ONLY.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Obsession can lead to either one of two ways. It can take you on the path of success or it can take you to dark journeys with lasting consequences. Quentin was – with no doubt – an obsessive man.

The long working hours he had dedicated into developing his technology is a result of his obsession. And now that he has you, he can finally bring together the only two things that satisfy him.

You find yourself walking on eggshells again as your high heels clack their way through against the white marble floor. Quentin had forgotten a briefcase at home, containing some important blueprints. He politely demanded asked you to bring it into the lab for him. You call for him as you quietly walk inside. There are dismantled drones crowding the work stations. The lab looks a mess with small bolts, screws and motherboards everywhere.

You don’t know to expect or what state you’ll find him in. Granted he had always been self-centered and short-fused – you wish you had noticed the red flags before you said the official “I do” – he could be worse when he worked on his projects. Far worse.

“About time. What the hell took you so long?” he sighs setting the tools in his hands down on the glossy white table in front of him to walk over and rip the briefcase from your hands.

 “I’m sorry. I got caught in traffic. It’s not like I wanted to be late” you retort. “I know how you get” you add with a mumble.

You freeze the second the words leave your mouth. You realize you were thinking out loud when you catch Quin’s scowl.

 “Oh? And how exactly do I get?”

“N-nothing, Quin. I didn’t say anything.”

“So now I’m hearing things? I’m going schizo?”

 He takes a threatening step towards you, his broad size shrinking you in comparison. His shoulders stretch as he stands up straight. He wants to remind you that you are essentially powerless against him.

 “No. That’s not what I meant. I-I didn’t mean it.”

“Obviously, you did. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said it. So, enlighten me, princess. How do I get?”

You gulp heavily as you lower your fearful agaze. His sights are locked on you like a wolf circling its prey. You’re in for it now.

As you open your mouth and try to build the courage the speak, the words seem to get stuck in your throat.

Frighteningly calm, his hand wraps around the underside of your chin. His fingertips press into one cheek as his thumb sinks into the other, forcing you to face him.

“I asked you a question, princess. It’s impolite to leave someone hanging.”

“Just a little s-scary sometimes, Quin. That’s all.”

He doesn’t need to feel your trembling to know that you’re afraid of him. As he smirks to himself, his fingertips ease the pressure they’re applying to your cheeks. He caresses them, soothing the red indents on your skin.

The change of his persona is almost too eerie.

“You’re not wrong about that. I know sometimes I can get a little impatient. I think I just need a break.I think I’ve just been in here on my own for too long. But now that I have you here...” He trailed off as he kisses you.

Slow, repeated, tender kisses that make you bubble from the inside. You can’t deny him. You fear what he’d do if you did and you find him oddly irresistible.

The small of your back is guided by his hands on your hips to meet the table as he entraps you against it with his hunching frame. His feet stand firm on either side of you, locking you in.

As his kisses grow hungry, you cling to the edge of the table to steady yourself from his mauling. His lips connect to your neck, nibbling and sucking your skin. His 5 o’clock shadow grazes you roughly as his fingers work the buttons on your shirt to reveal your black lace bra.

Your eyes dart towards the one-sided wall of glass. An office of busy workers and overflowing desks lay just outside. Even though you know they can’t see in from the outside, your cheeks still flush warmly at the sight of his co-workers.

“Quin, maybe we shouldn’t. You’re at work. Someone could see us.”

“And what’s the problem with that?” he mumbles against your flesh, too busy savoring the fullness of your breast in his hand after he shoved it under the black garment.

You hold his wrists trying to resist him as you struggle to ignore how good they feel.

“Quin, we can’t.”

“Who the fuck says when I can and can’t fuck my wife. If I wanna fuck you right here and right now, I’m gonna fuck you.”

“I-i just don’t want anyone to see, Quin.”

“Don’t worry. No one will see” he smiles darkly as a light bulb lit up upon his head. His hand retracts from your breast, rendering you confused. Had you upset him?

“No one will see. You’re for my eyes only, princess.”

You gasp when his hand reaches under your skirt and squeezes your pussy over your panties. You close your eyes to steady yourself, but they shoot open when you hear a faint blip. Closing them again, you ignore it thinking you might have imagined the sound.

“You don’t wanna disappoint your husband, do ya?” His voice is low and soft, manipulating you into surrendering to him.

“N-no, I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you, sir.”

“That’s my girl” he chuckles dimly.

While one hand teases your clothed pussy, his other hand pulls your bra down. As the garment bunches under your fully exposed tits, it pushes them up and perfectly displays them to Quin.

You can hear a very low hum vibrating around you but you assume it’s only the AC kicking in.

“So fucking beautiful for me” he mumbles.

He’s quick to wrap his mouth around your nipple, kneading the tender flesh in his large hand. His tongue twirls around your hard nipple, stopping only to greedily suck on it. You moan as he alters. Left to right, right to left; giving them each the attention they deserve.

You watch him ravage your tits. His hand slides out from under your skirt and assists him in taking off your shirt. He leaves the bra on. He loves black on you, but personally he’s already thinking about how white they’ll be when he stains them with his cum.

“You know how much I fucking love your tits, princess.”

A telephone rings from a desk outside the lab and catches your attention. You look to the glass wall and are quickly reminded how many people are just on the other side.

“You’re such a filthy fucking whore for me” he grumbles groping your chest roughly with his hands and mouth.

“Quin, someone could walk in on us” you plead trying to remind him. He feels so good on you, but you don’t want to do this right here.

“They could” he nods looking up at you. “They could see the little slut you are for me.”

“Quin, please. Not here.”

  He ignores your pleads to stop. He knows you’re turned on by it. The wetness sinking through your panties was the only confirmation he needed.

Pushing your skirt up to expose your dampening cunt, he sits down on a rolling stool and wheels it closer.

He sits you on the table behind you and your legs spread open on their own to allow him access. You hate the puppet you become at his fingertips.

“No, Quentin. Stop it” you plead trying to get his attention.

He responds with a hard slap on your breast. The sting sends sparks straight down to your core, fueling the fire that burns in your womb.

“What’d ya call me?”

“S-sir. Please.”

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, you got that? I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Ripping your panties to the side, he buries his face between your thighs. Any shred of resistance you have melts away. Your eyes squeeze shut, but you’re reminded you have to watch the door since Quentin doesn’t seem to care at all about the people working behind him.

You alter between watching his co-workers going about their day - without the slightest knowledge of the filth going on so close to them- and his mouth as it engulfs your juicy lips. It’s almost exciting to think about. You feel so dirty and yet, so fucking good letting him use you so openly.

Your muscles burn as Quin shoves your knees apart. His lips hungrily wraps around your lips, letting his tongue lap up the wetness building up. You lean back on your elbows to let him get more of you.

You moan at his tongue swirls around your sensitive nub, sending sparks of electricity throughout your body. How can you resist him when he feels so good?

“Sir, feels so good” you whisper.

You lick your dry lips as you lay spread with his head between your legs. He hums with delight as he catches you watching the glass walls.

“You like it don’t you?” he mumbles sliding two fingers into your hole.

You hear the vibrating hum again, but nod at his question. Why is the AC so strange here?

His fingers push into the sides of your entrance, prying your hole open with the most delicious burn. His tongue slides into the hole, eagerly lapping up your sweet juice. He fucks you with his tongue and you finally surrender yourself to him completely.

There is no use in fighting back. He wins. Quentin always gets what he wants when he wants it. And he wants you now. His only argument is devouring your pussy with a hunger so deep that you’re not sure if you’re enough to satisfy. 

“Pussy so juice, baby” he mutters to your cunt. “Gotta fuck it with my cock now. Need you so bad.”

His cock feels as if it’s about to break through his pants. He wastes no time and stands up between your legs, quickly unfastening his belt and pants.

His cock springs free from it’s confines, hard already. You wince biting your lower lip. The low hum that you’ve been hearing seems even closer now. You frown and try to find the source, but you’re forced out your thoughts when Quin’s tip glides up your swollen folds and pokes at your nub.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your cunt is soaking wet as he lathers his cock with it. You watch his face contort from the pleasure. He moans and rolls his head back. He could cum just from the feeling your puffy lips hugging his dick.

He looks back down to watch himself penetrate you. His cock feels so big in you. It parts you in half as it pushes in deeper. The stretch hurts a bit, but he’s not going to ease up. This isn’t about your comfort; it’s about his need for release.

You remind yourself to breathe. The tightness around his cock feels heavenly to him, but you force yourself to relax to make it less painful.

As he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, you reach down to caress your sensitive clit to try and enjoy it more.

“Such a dirty fucking slut. Look at you. You wanna cum on my cock, princess?”

“Yes, sir.”

He chuckles and delivers a couple more slaps to your exposed breasts, leaving them red and warmly tender to the touch.

He orders you to lie on your back and squeeze your own tits. His cock bottoms out inside of you. From some reason, the deep humming seems to be coming from right above you. You look up at the ceiling trying to find the source again, but there’s nothing there.

As his hips move back to retract from your cunt, he pushes your knees to your chest. Just when you think your pussy couldn’t be anymore exposed.

With his hands on the back of your thighs, he leans down to spit on your cunt. It’s spread so open; he doesn’t even need his hands to guide his head inside your hole. His dick glides into your stretched wetness.

He fucks so rough and hard; you know you’ll be sore for days.

The panties bundled into a string rub along the side of your cunt. It burns your skin, but all you think about is how good his cock starting to feel.

Your clit trembles at the pleasure.

“P-please, sir. Can I touch myself?”

His dark smile grows wide.

“Only ‘cause you remembered to ask, princess.”

You quickly reach down to your cunt to rub yourself where you need it most. It finally feels so good.

“Pussy so fucking wet. Make yourself cum on my cock.”

You can hear how wet you really are. You can feel your slick spread all around and stick to his groin. You wish you weren’t as wet as you are. You know he takes so much pride in knowing he makes you that way.

His balls thump faster against your ass as he picks up his pace. You’re so full of him; it’s pushing you over the edge. The bundling pressure finally bursts inside you.

As your walls contract and tighten around his pounding cock, you keep your eyes locked on the glass wall praying no one would hear or enter the lab. He wishes he could spend all day doing this; just fucking you silly until he’s too spent.

 His throbbing cock shows he’s so close.

Leaving you aching to be full again, he pulls himself out and finally cums. He coats your swollen pussy lips with his warm string of white beads, painting you like a canvas.  He haphazardly pulls your panties back over your drenched cunt to pump his final load over your panties.

He chuckles tiredly feeling his cum quickly soak through the lace with the tip of his cock. The idea of you walking out that door and down the building, all the way home with your pussy and panties coated with his cum excites him.

“Stay dirty until you get home.”

You nod as he lets you climb down from the table. You both redress and adjust your clothes to return to your day. Your legs feel like they barely hold you up.

“Give sir a kiss goodbye” he smiles enjoying the power he has over you.

You obey and press your lips to his, letting it linger for as long as he wants.

“We having steak for dinner tonight?” he whispers holding your hips.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I’ll be home early.”

You smile as he reaches up your skirt to confirm his cum is still where he wants it.

“Keep ‘em on all day. I’d better come home and find this still on my pussy.”

“You will, sir” you nodded obediently. Your pussy tingles at his touch, anxious for more.

He gives you one more kiss to let you go and slaps your ass as you turn to walk to the door. With your pussy beyond soaked, your wetness mixes with his cum and trickle down your inner thighs. It makes your walk a little difficult as you pray it doesn’t drip out.

You make your way out of the lab and walk towards the elevator, hoping no one will notice. You feel a few pairs of eyes on you. Whether they know or not, you can’t be sure. So, you just smile shyly at them and keep your gaze down.

Quentin watches you step into the elevator from the lab. Finally sitting back at his station, he lifts a thin tablet from his desk and presses an icon.

The drone, which is controlled by the tablet, reveals itself as it deactivates its cloaking device. Now fully visible, he lands it on the table to deactivate the drone entirely.

Quin leans back in his chair with a mischievous grin as he raises the tablet. Pressing a few more icons on the touchscreen tablet, he smirks grimly as he watches the previous recording saved on the device. With the touch of a button, he expands the video into holograph mode.

His technology finally worked.

The holograph shows you with your cunt fully exposed, being fucked by him on the table. He rewinds it to watch it from the start, laughing to himself proudly.

“Thank you, princess.”

[thevelria]

Blood and Poker - Call me when you are ready to date me (SFW/mafia!Gojo x pokerplayer!fem!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summary: You and your friends go to a casino to have some fun. Since you used to be a pro player you keep winning at the table which gets the attention of the owner. He tries to find out that you are a cheater or a genius.

Author's note: I love poker, I love casinos, I love mafia and I love Gojo. Simple as that lol

Warnings: no warnings.

WordCount: 1.9K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sliding into your black heels and fixing your tight, mid-thigh long dress before you actually stepped out of your apartment. “I’m on my way, Shoko.” you clicked your tongue. Your childhood friend sometimes was a bit too much but you loved her anyway. “Yes, exactly. I’m literally opening the door downstairs. I already see you.” you started to wave while canceling the call. 

“You are late.” she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon… 3 minutes.”

“You are still late.” she teased. “Nah, get in the car. Utahime and Meimei are already waiting for us.”

“What about the boys?” you asked as you buckled the safety up. 

“Nanami picks Haibara up and they come with Kento’s car.” 

And what is all the fuss about, you may ask? It was a tradition. You’ve been friends since high school and stuck together even if you grew up. Even when you were at different unis and started to work at different workplaces. All of you gathered in the town twice a year. Once for a nice dinner before Christmas and once for a wasted gambling night in the Spring. Since it was April you were eager to meet your friends and let out all the stress, get wasted and probably win some money. 

It’s been a few years now that you stopped your career as a professional poker player. On a night like this you were able to feel the tension once again, to feel the adrenalin crawling up in your body and you let it spread in your veins. You had a perfect, so-called poker face. No one could read your emotions and you made advantage of that skill whenever you needed to. 

All of you met in front of the entrance, between kisses, hugs and howareyous you looked up for a blink and saw the big neon letters “GOJO”. This casino entered your town not long ago and you were more than happy to give it a try. 

As soon as you stepped in the girls aimed for the bar. 

“The usual?” Utahime asked you.

“Yes, honey. Thank you. I’ll be over at the…”

“Poker table.” Meimei finished your sentence giggling. 

“You know me too well.” you laughed. 

 Yu joined the girls, while Kento decided to escort you to the table you just picked randomly. 

“Tonight is my night, girl.” he leaned closer to you as soon as you took a seat. “I’m gonna win all your sweet money. It will be a perfect revenge for last year’s disaster.”

“You wish, sweetheart.” you petted his thigh. “You wish.”

Round after round you won the pot and kept gathering Kento’s chips, just as the other two player’s, too. Your friend was getting more and more impatient and probably irritated. 

“Fuck…” he hissed. “I’m out.” he rolled his eyes the second you raised the bet on the river. After an hour or so Kento was lacking his chips, maybe they were enough for 2 or 3 more rounds. 

***

“Boss, I need you to come with me please.” Yuuta bowed slightly before Gojo.

“What’s the matter?” he frowned. The head of security called him only when there was something off.

“I think there might be a cheater at one of the poker tables.” he sat down in the security room in front of the countless screens which gave them access to see everything in the casino. “Look! Do you see it at table 7? She keeps winning for one and a half hours straight. There’s no way she doesn’t count the cards…” he shook his head irritated. “Do you want me to kick her out?”

Gojo stepped closer, rubbing his thumb and index finger up and down on his jaw. “Hmm…” he growled as he stared at you. “I will handle her myself.” he spun on his heels and left the room. “Let’s see if you are a cheater or a genius, darling.” he smirked as he hurried his steps towards your table. 

***

“Oh, c’mon!” Nanami threw his hands into the air. “I know you’re bluffing, girl. I’m sure!”

“Am I?” you poked your tongue against your inner cheek. 

“Go, sweety, go!” Yu cheered for you from behind, sitting at a normal table, sipping his drink. He and the girls took a break and decided to watch the painful execution of Nanami Kento’s wallet. 

“Shut your mouth, Haibara!” hissed the blonde haired man, as he pushed his glasses back up on his nose. 

“Show me what you got.” you smiled after the river. At this time only you and him stayed at the table, everyone else gave up and left. 

“I win this. I know I do.” he smirked and flashed a full house with Aces full of Kings.  

“My sweet, Kento, my sweet sweet Kento.” your voice sounded warm and nice which sent shivers down his body.

“What?! WHAT?!” he clenched his jaw. “If you dare to tell me that…”

“Four of a kind…” you revealed your cards “Queens.” you chuckled a bit as the dealer repeated the result and pushed all the chips to you.

“Fuck off! Seriously, just fuck off, girl!” he took a desperately huge breath. 

“Good evening.” a husky voice interrupted the little act at the table. “May I join? It seems this pretty lady is getting lucky, so I would like to try mine, too” the snow white haired man said politely. You missed the quick glance the dealer gave to his boss.

“There’s no luck in this, sir.” you rolled your eyes offended. “I’m simply good at this game.”

He raised his index finger as he took a seat, signing he wanted to join the game anyway.

“If you are an enemy of your own wallet, you can join us.” Nanami hummed.

The cards were dealt and everyone made the bet. You tried to read your newest opponent but him wearing dark sunglasses gave you a hard time. 

“You’re staring.” he smirked.

“I know.” you raised one of your eyebrows.

Kento wanted to show off, even if he was terrible at any card games. Everyone knew it except him. He clicked his tongue, so you already knew he actually had something in his hand. You were holding a 7,2 off, so you dropped them without hesitation. There was no way on Earth you would try anything risky with the most horrible combination you could get.

As you kept staring at the handsome man next to you, he slightly pulled his sunglasses off, flashing his mesmerizingly blue eyes. “Holy fuck!” you thought to yourself. 

Kento wasn’t paying attention, he was sure this time he was going to win the pot. So he of course missed the cheeky wink his opponent gave you before pushing the glasses back up. You bit your lower lip, because even if it was clearer than the sun you couldn’t say a single thing. You rather tried to find out what he could hold. According to the cards on the table after the river you had two possibilities in mind.    

“All in.” he pushed all his chips to the middle of the table.

“Call!” snapped Kento without even thinking for a second. 

“Fuck, Nanami!” you shook your head angrily. “How can you be this stupid!”

“Easy, girl. I got this…” he smirked, flashing his cards. “Four of a kind, Aces.” he kept raising his eyebrows up and down. But the fact his opponent pulled a tiny smile told you more than enough. 

“He has a fucking straight flush, Kento. Why can’t you read the freaking cards?” you hummed a bittersweet laugh.

“How did you know…” he frowned as he showed the Queen and King of hearts in his hand. The dealer placed them right next to the rest of the cards in the middle of the table and called him the winner. 

“Don’t worry.” you turned to Nanami. “I’m gonna win your money back.” you winked at him.

“Will you?” your opponent chuckled. “By the way I’m Satoru.” he offered his hand for a shake. 

“Nice to meet you.” you nodded. 

“It’s my pleasure to play with a woman like you.” he tried to smooth talk.

“Stop flirting and make the bet.” you pretended to yawn. 

Gojo pulled his hand back and slightly smiled. Your cheeky attitude amazed him. 

As you promised your friend after a few rounds you had all the chips. 

“Your girlfriend is very very talented.” he turned to Nanami.

“Girlfriend? Her? I would never ever date her…” he bursted out in a loud laughter.

You punched him hard in the shoulder. “Asshole.” 

“You see?” Nanami tilted his head a bit.

“Only a fool wouldn’t date a beautiful lady like her.” he looked you in the eyes. That was the moment he got your attention. 

***

Gojo had no intention in telling you he was the owner of the place, rather he invited you for a drink at the bar. You stepped to your friends and promised them you were going to be back soon.

“Girl! Don’t be ridiculous!” Meimei chuckled. “This guy is hot as fuck. Go get him.”

“A Gin-tonic, please.” you sat down at the bar.

“Actually, two.” Gojo took a seat next to you. 

The second you wanted to pay for your drink the bartender smiled and said “It’s on the house, miss.” 

You were surprised but didn’t turn down the free drink. Satoru started to ask you questions about your skill and you ended up telling him your story.

“I used to be a pro player.” you pulled a painful smile. “But I had to quit and since then I rarely play.” 

“You are full of surprises, I am honestly amazed.”

The hours flew by and even if you had fun it was time to end the night. 

“The casino has hotel rooms as well.” Gojo offered it smoothly.

“Thanks.” you stood up and placed your palm on his shoulder. “But I don’t do one night stands anymore.”

He smirked at your comment and grabbed a business card in his pocket, handing it to you as he stood up as well. “I’m not interested in one night stands either. Call me when you are ready to date me.” he gave a quick kiss on your cheek and left. 

You stared at the card in your hand and frowned, because you were sure you'd seen his name somewhere. As you walked out of the building and turned around there it was. The huge neon letters “GOJO” right above the entrance flashed into your face. You grabbed your phone right away and sent him a text message.

“Why didn’t you say you own this whole place?”

“Does it matter?” he texted you back almost immediately. 

You hummed a laugh, because he made a point. “No, actually it does not matter.” 

***

The next morning you were woken up by your ringing phone. 

“Yeah?” you picked up, being barely awake.

“So, are you ready to date me, yet?” Gojo’s husky voice made you smile. 

“Uhm…” you had no idea what to say.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp.” he hung up. 

“Well, it seems I’m gonna have a date tonight.” you blinked a few times before a question popped in your mind. “Wait! How the hell does he know my address?” 

You had no idea that Gojo Satoru wasn’t only an owner of a casino. No. He was the head of one the biggest mafia families in the whole country. 

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Hell of a Show

Jake Kiszka x fem oc

Fifteen years after resigning from Greta Van Fleet, for reasons undisclosed to the public, Coley Payne is asked by her former band members to tell her side of the story.

Words: 4.2K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, underage drinking, arguing, first love, slight sexual reference, fluff

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read/liked/reblogged, it means so much to me and I really appreciate the support! That being said, this is the second to the last chapter of The Beginning (excluding the next Interlude), so buckle up.

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

***LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED***

***Table of Contents***

The Beginning: Part VI

2015

“…Jake…” It comes out a breathless giggle, the sound of her voice speaking his name is addictive within itself while her cheek scrunches to her shoulder with the tickle of his lips along the skin of her neck.

 “I’m already late for my shift.” Coley adds, attempting to pull herself away from him and what was meant to be a fast goodbye kiss. 

She’s unsuccessful in doing so, instead finding herself craving the feeling of his lips against hers once again instead of the dreaded work that awaits her inside the sports bar. 

Her fingers thread through his soft hair, causing a tug at the corner of his mouth before he’s saying, “Just call out,” against her lips, his nose nuzzling against hers in the process. 

“I called out yesterday,” She whispers her retort, the words framed with a sly grin before her tongue tangles with his. 

Inside, an impatient, white sneaker taps along the floor as green eyes stare at the beer-themed clock above the bar. 

“Two minutes.” Bellamy mumbles to herself, more-so complains, glancing around for any sign of her short, dirty blonde counterpart that gets her through grueling shifts of drunk men and blaring sports games. 

Then, from the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of a familiar car out the window in the late afternoon sun.  

Inside that car, Jake’s nearly crawling over into the passenger seat to get his hands on his girlfriend, Coley squealing out laughter and breaking from his lips in the process. 

“I have to go,” She insists, now, before it can escalate to anything more in broad daylight—especially in the parking lot of her work place.  

“Just quit,” He says carelessly, kissing her cheek, now, too engrossed in the feeling of her hands in his hair. 

“Quit? Jake, I can’t—”

“—Quit, I’ll pick up extra shifts at Slo’ Bones,” His judgment is very clearly muddied with the fact he simply doesn’t want her to leave him. 

“I can’t quit. I need the money,” Coley reminds him, raising her brows, “Unless, of course, you wanna keep sharing hotel rooms with Danny and your brothers every out of town show we have—that’s why we have jobs in the first place.” 

“I can make enough for the both of us,” It’s a lie and they both know it, so much so that neither of them can help but to crack up after he says it. 

“I’ll be done at 12:30,” She reminds him after they calm their chuckling, her fingertips brushing along his cheek. 

It’s too tempting of a thought—ditching work to stay with him like she’d done the day before. 

A dramatic sigh leaves her when she says, “And you gotta stop looking at me like that or I’m never leaving this car,” before covering his eyes with the palm of her hand to spare herself the torture of his convincing gaze. 

Jake’s grabbing at her wrist and prying her hand from his eyes so he can look at her with a closed-mouth smile on his lips. 

She giggles again at first, but then settles upon realizing he’s simply just taking her in, relaxing under his comforting gaze. 

“I love you,” He says to her, next, the humor and light-heartedness leaving him as he speaks it seriously, his own fingers brushing along her cheek to move her hair from her face. 

Despite the fact it’s not at all the first occurrence she’s heard him say it, every time feels like it’s never been said before. 

“I love you, too,” Coley replies in the same tone, unable to keep her smile stifled, grinning at him widely before she leans in one last time to kiss him…

The palm of Bellamy’s hand suddenly collides with his window in a frantic patting motion, the couple darting apart from the abrupt racket to look at the tall brunette tapping her wrist to imply Coley being late. 

“12:30,” Coley reminds him before kissing his cheek and opening the door to get out of the car—immediately cursing with the rush of freezing wind that hits her as she looks at Bella and snaps, “You couldn’t give us two seconds?!”

“I gave you three minutes!” Bellamy calls over the sound of the whipping wind while Coley steps around the front of his car. 

“Austin said I have five minutes,” The blonde boasts what their manager had told her upon being hired, and Bellamy immediately retorts:

“Austin’s not the one running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” 

“Yeah, well—” 

“—Psst!” 

She’s cut short by Jake rolling his window down, unable to help himself with the sight of her walking away in her skimpy orange shorts. 

Bella rolls her eyes as Coley gives her a small smile and turns to quickly jog back to the car, leaning down to give her boyfriend a legitimate goodbye kiss. 

“I have to go.” Coley tells him once she pulls from his lips. “I’ll see you at 12:30.”

“I’ll see you at 12:30.” He agrees reluctantly. 

One final peck is pressed to his lips before she’s turning to skip back to Bella, who’s already nearly at the door. 

His fingers find his mouth and a whistle echoes through the parking lot as she walks away again, and she turns over her shoulder and offers a wave before being dragged inside by her friend. 

COLEY: After I graduated, I tried one semester of college, dropped it, then tried again the following year. 

Needless to say, it wasn’t for me. But something had to be for me because, according to the adults in my life, I needed a back-up plan in case we never made it as a band. 

So, I got a job as a waitress. 

Then I quit that job because the tips weren’t any good, and got a different waitressing job at a restaurant where drunk, middle aged men would scream at the TV and hand out money like candy to us girls because we were all done-up and practically half-naked. 

My parents were thrilled, as you can imagine.

At 12:30a.m., on the dot, Jake’s smiling ear to ear while watching her and Bellamy break from the confines of the restaurant with the other waitresses, bidding their goodbyes and many a “drive safe.” 

“You’re going straight home, right?” Bella sarcastically nudges Coley, looking at Jake as they walk toward his car—Bellamy’s own vehicle in the spot next to him. 

“Always.” Coley retorts innocently with a knowing grin shooting up at the brunette. 

“You just text me when you get there. Whenever you get there,” Bellamy rolls her eyes. 

“I will.” Coley promises, squeezing at her hand before they part ways. 

Jake reaches over and opens her door for his girlfriend before she can, earning a chipper, “Hi, baby,” from her. 

“How was work?” He immediately inquires curiously, the question being the first thing he speaks when he sees her most times he picks her up from work. 

“Hell. As always.” She breathes out while getting settled into the car and shutting the door, shivering and chattering her teeth from the winter air while he turns the heat back up. “These new uniforms are bullshit. I swear my panties and shorts are up my ass right now.” She complains with a scowl at the shorter length-shorts that have been implemented recently. “And Brandon’s been on mine and Chrissy’s dick about being by the bar too much, but that’s where all the money is.”

“Really?” Jake asks, partially interested, but partially wanting to hear nothing of it because he doesn’t particularly like the idea of drunk creeps hitting on his girlfriend for hours on end and brushing it over by handing her some cash. 

“Bellamy made $207.00 Saturday. One freaking shift. Guess where she was?” She goes on, pulling her seatbelt on, and Jake takes a gander. 

“Working the bar?” 

“Working the bar. And me and Chrissy found out we don’t even have to be behind the bar serving them. Just walk by enough times and they start talking to you, and slide you a little something before they leave.” She pipes. “But of course Brandon’s pissed because nobody wants to tip the asshole manager $50, so he gripes at all of us that he can.”

Jake doesn’t reply, hoping that subject naturally changes in the midst of their silence while his hand searches for her in the dark. 

There’s a comfort that comes with the simple gesture and she closes her tired eyes momentarily before she asks, “How was yard work?”

She can picture Mr. Kiszka sitting on the back porch, sipping his beer and smoking his cigar whilst putting Josh, Jake, and Sammy to work picking up limbs—at least that’s how she’s always witnessed the days they’ve had to do yard work. 

“How do you think it was?” He asks her with a scoff, glancing at her. 

“You and Sammy did most of the work while Josh strategically managed to worm out of it?”

“Ding ding ding!” He confirms sarcastically. “He had school work, apparently, so he was only out there for a little while before dad let him go back inside.” 

“You should've gone to college. You’d have an excuse, too.” She shrugs. 

“Yeah, right, let me drag my balls through splinters while I’m at it…Twelve years was enough for me.” He mumbles before his brown eyes once again cut to her briefly before settling on the road. “…What about you?”

“What about me?” Coley asks with a yawn, her eyes watering with the exhaustion that’s beginning to take over the longer he drives. 

“Have you decided if you’re gonna go back or not?” 

She doesn’t answer immediately, feeling as though she’s had to explain this a hundred times to her family and anybody else who asks if she’s in school or going at any point. 

All through middle school and high school she was interested in Radiology…but that shifted when she actually got into college and was working toward it. 

To avoid wasting money on tuition, and wasting her time, she decided not to go back. 

“What’s the point right now?” She inquires, now looking at him. “We’re in a band, right?”

“Yeah, but…” Jake trails off, not knowing how to bring this up without pissing her off. 

“But what?”

Taking in a deep breath, he takes his hand from hers to nervously swipe at his nose as he starts, “I overheard Jules talking to Danny this afternoon when they were over at the house. She was talking about your mom.”

“Oh, hell, Jake, just freaking ignore it. That’s what I’m doing.” Coley gripes, rolling her eyes without needing any further explanation from him.

“I can’t ignore it if your mom thinks I’m a bad influence on you.” He pipes to her. 

“I’m not going to school because I don’t want to. It has nothing to do with you not going.”

“No, but it does have something to do with us being in a band and wanting to make a professional career out of it.”

“Jake, I really don’t give a shit what she thinks. I ignore it. You should, too.” Coley assures him with a sigh. 

COLEY: All of our parents encouraged us to find a “plan B” incase we needed to fall back on it, but my mom really, really, really despised the fact I wasn’t in school. And I think she grew resentful and blamed Jake for it—although he couldn’t control what I did or didn’t do—for asking me to be in the band in the first place. 

That’s why my relationship with her was a little strained for a couple years. 

Jake knows he should take her advice, but it’s difficult to do so when he doesn’t want to be the point of contention between her and Tammy. 

When he doesn’t reply, Coley reaches over and threads her fingers in the freshly washed strands of brown hair, and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel momentarily at the sound of her unbuckling her seat belt. 

Her lips graze his cheek, then his jaw, and he forces himself to speak up when her tongue runs along his neck for a brief kiss. 

“I need you to get your pretty ass back in your seat before I crash.” He states, and she giggles, pecking at the corner of his lips before sitting in her seat and buckling back up. 

Once they get to her house, he’s cutting the headlights off to avoid waking her parents, and putting the car in park. 

“You wanna come in?” Coley asks him, looking at him in the shine of the Christmas lights shrouding the roof of her house that filter through the windshield. 

“I don’t know, baby…” He admits hesitantly when she unbuckles. “…Your mom’s always waiting up for you, isn’t she? I don’t want her to see me sneaking into her house and hate me more than what she already does.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Her periods have been outta wack and it’s been making her a total bitch, lately, It’s not personal.” She promises him, grabbing her bag from the backseat before adding, “C’mon.” 

“I really think I just need to head home. It’s really late, anyway, alright?” He says, despite wanting nothing more than to follow her inside. 

“Oh.” She tries to hide her disappointment, not wanting to guilt him for being uncomfortable in her house right now, but she can’t help the shallow tears that cloud her vision and only hopes he doesn’t notice them. “Okay. That’s okay.”

“I love you.” He tells her, reaching his hand out to gently grasp her neck to pull her to him for a goodnight kiss. 

It’s brief and quick.

He makes sure it is so he doesn’t give himself time to change his mind. 

“I love you, too.” She says when he pulls away from her. 

“I’ll call you when I get home, alright?” Jake offers next as if it’s any consolation, and she nods. “I love you.” He repeats it again for a final time as she opens the door to get out the car, hoping she understands just how much that he does—knowing that her feelings are more than likely a little hurt right now. 

“I love you, too.” She promises, blowing him a kiss before shutting the door and sprinting to the porch to rush out of the cold air. 

It’s when she gets inside that she allows the silent tears to fall and wipes them away while heading to her parents room. 

With a couple of knocks, she hears her mom’s drowsy, “Huh?” and opens the door. 

“I’m back home.” She says blandly to the tired woman. 

“Okay.” Tammy replies over the sound of her husband’s CPAP machine.

Coley closes the door with a roll of her eyes and heads back downstairs to her room once she sees that Jules’ lamp is off in her room signaling that she, too, is knocked out cold. 

She gets to her room, puts her bag down, grabs a towel and gets a shower, remaining there while Jake gets home and tries to call her twice—then begins to slightly overthink her not answering his call. 

Maybe she’s asleep, he tells himself. 

Or maybe she’s ignoring you because you wouldn’t spend time with her after work, he thinks, next. 

Giving up for now, he gets out of his car and heads inside his house. 

His parents are asleep, along with his siblings, and he does his nightly routine of sitting on the couch and bingeing cooking shows out of sheer boredom and curiosity until his phone starts ringing. 

Coley frees her hair from her scrunchie as she waits for him to answer, having just finished showering and putting on her skincare and body lotion, pulling the covers of her bed back.

“Hello?” He answers, his heart hammering as he attempts to gauge if she’s upset with him or not through the phone, sighing with relief at the sound of her sweet voice. 

“Hey, baby, I’m sorry I missed your calls. I was in the shower.” She explains, sitting on her bed. 

“It’s okay. I was just letting you know I got home.” He plays off any anxious tone with a clearing of his throat. 

“Was your mom upset you were a little late?” She asks, next, and he shrugs. 

“She’s asleep so…I guess not.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, Tammy was also dead to the world when I came in.” She breathes out, and Jake wants to kick himself for not staying with her longer out of fear of her mom not being asleep. 

As if reading his mind, she adds, “Which means you could’ve come in and she wouldn’t have even noticed.” 

“Maybe not to begin with, but you can’t be quiet.” He scoffs, next, and her face burns red with his words, a laugh leaving her. 

“I can’t be quiet?” She gawks with a scoff.  

“Not without some help.” He retorts and she rubs her lips together after a flustered breath out before she’s stating:

“Shut up.”

He smiles to himself at the tone of her voice and licks his lips before starting, “You know, I was thinking, for our show in January–”

“--In Nashville, right?” She interrupts and he nods. 

“Yeah, and I was thinking we could get our own room. Mom was looking at prices earlier and they’re not bad.”

A pit forms in her stomach. 

“Our own room?” 

In theory, it’s ideal, right?

That’s why everyone’s working, anyway (except Sammy). 

Just to afford to get out from under each other when they travel…but the thought of it is daunting. 

Just her and Jake…alone…all night…no interruptions, or risks of anybody waking up to use the bathroom and walking in on them, or over-hearing them…

“If that’s okay.” Jake adds, catching the apprehension in her voice. 

“Yeah.” She nods, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, that’s fine, baby. Um…we can go ahead and book it if it’s where your parents are wanting to stay and I’ll let mom and dad know and they can go ahead and book theirs, too. I can pay you for my half tomorrow.”

“Ew. No.” He wrinkles his nose at the thought of making her shell out her own money for somewhere to sleep. 

“Jake, I’m not arguing with you about this.” She stifles a laugh, trying to be stern. 

“Hold onto your money. You might need it one day, Coley.” He shrugs. 

“You’re right. I’m gonna need it for tomorrow when I pay you for my share of the room we’re booking.” 

“Coley June.”

“Jacob Thomas.” 

“Ooh,” He dramatically lets out, “Say it again—just a little softer, this time.” 

He achieves his goal to get her to crack up, and in Coley fashion, she humors his sarcasm with a soft, sultry, “Jacob Thomas.”

His grin reaches his ears.

“Just marry me already.” Jake states, leaning his head back on the couch while his girlfriend falls back on the bed with a breathy chuckle. 

“Yeah, let’s give our parents something else to have a conniption about.” She scoffs.

“We’re almost twenty…we could if we wanted to.”

His words prompt her to shoot up on her elbow, furrowing her brows. 

“I think you need to go to bed. You’re getting delusional in your lack of sleep.” She says lightly despite her heart hammering in her chest from the shift in topic. 

“It’s not delusional for me to want to marry you—I love you.” He replies. 

“I love you, too, but that’s not what I meant, baby, it’s just…we’ve only been dating for a year, you know?”

“I thought girls liked talking about marriage and babies and shit like that?” 

Coley realizes she’s put her foot in her mouth, and tries her hardest to pry it out. 

“Look, I’d rather you wanna talk about us getting married than not wanna talk about us getting married. You’ve just never said anything about it before so it’s kinda taken me by surprise that you actually see us getting married one day.”

“What, you don’t see us getting married?” 

“I mean…you kinda flinch at the thought of any form of domestication that might interfere with your dream…I’ve always kinda thought that included me.” She confesses. 

He can’t fathom how she could think that, and expresses as much with a certain, “Well, you’re my dream, too.” 

It comes so freely, as if not even needing a second thought to say it, and her eyes water with his sweet words. 

“You’re mine, too.” She states, hiding the shake in her voice as she gazes up at her ceiling that’s shrouded in photos of them that are strategically placed there so he’d be the last thing she could have her eyes on before cutting her lamp off and drifting to sleep. 

They end their night as they normally do: staying on the phone and talking until Coley falls asleep and Jake doesn’t have the heart to hang up on her. 

JAKE: There’s a saying about one falling first, and one falling harder…I was the poor bastard that managed to be dealt both hands... 

JOSH: …It was a beautiful thing to see…and fucking nauseating. The whole thing. And it completely shifted the entire dynamic of the band. 

In the days to follow, Jake avoids it at all costs. 

The constant bickering between his brothers and his girlfriend has rendered him silent, lips pressing in a thin line as he keeps his head down, hoping that stone blue eyes don’t find him, accompanied by batting lashes and pouting lips, and drag him into it with the dreaded words, “Baby, what do you think?” 

SAM: I think it took some years for them to navigate and decipher between subconscious bias and genuine liking…as if they had to ask themselves, “Do I actually like this riff, or am I just in love with the person who came up with it so I think it’s the best thing in the world and we should center an entire song around it?” Which, was okay, I guess. Because three of us weren’t blinded by love and could keep things on the right track. 

Jake moves to the kitchen for something to drink—and to conveniently be freed of the tension beginning to broil between Sammy and Coley. 

“…Alright, look, that came out wrong. I don’t think it’s bad, Coley. I just don’t think it’s particularly good, either,” Sam throws out with a shrug as if that makes the sting of his words soften at all. 

“You’re not saying it’s bad! You’re saying it’s shitty!” She exclaims, crossing her arms where she’s seated in the Kiszka’s living room floor, Jake’s acoustic guitar propped beside her from where she had attempted to show them something she’d come up with. 

“Guys, we don’t need the yelling and the—” Danny’s abruptly interrupted by his best friend.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” 

“Hey!” Danny’s voice cracks when he attempts to yell, causing Josh to laugh in the midst of the hell breaking loose around them. 

DANNY: Yeah, I had to referee for everyone—more times than I care to count. Jake and Josh would get into pretty bad, and so would Sam and Coley. She and Josh would disagree sometimes, and Josh could argue more and insist on being right…but Sam was really good at saying just the right thing to piss her off. 

“How else am I supposed to take it when you literally say, ‘that’s kinda shit’?!” Coley grows all the louder, provoking Sammy to finally snap. 

“Because it is!” Sam finally strips any humorous sugarcoating from his opinion to attempt to spare some of her feelings. 

Coley calls out, “Jake!” at the same time that Jake says, “Sam!” to scold his little brother. 

“You’re not my girlfriend!” Sam lets out a humorless laugh. “I don’t have to kiss your ass!” 

This does it. 

Coley’s nostrils flare, and the floor thumps with her deliberate stomping up the stairs that rival thunder. 

JAKE: Sam didn’t care. Once he hit a certain point he could be pretty abrasive whether it was something that needed to be said or not. And on the days Coley had the time and energy to go toe-to-toe with him, they could go at it, and stay at it endlessly. 

Jake steps out of the kitchen in the wake of what just occurred, sighing out whilst looking at Sammy. 

“You’re right. She’s not your girlfriend.” He agrees with him in a sigh. “And you won’t ever get a girlfriend if you don’t learn how to talk to them.” Patting at the back of his baby brother’s head where he’s sitting on the couch, Jake takes a swig of beer before heading upstairs to talk to Coley, and hopefully get things resolved before their gig tomorrow night, which will mark their last show of the year…the very show that, unbeknownst to them, will change the complete trajectory of their lives.

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Tag List: @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @lizzys-sunflower @zooweemama555 @hollyco

[surftrips]

TATTOOS TOGETHER

OBX WRITING WEEK DAY 5 — HOW YOU GET THE GIRL W/ KIARA CARRERA

word count: 900

summary: the pogues get matching tattoos, but y/n takes it a step further to show her love for a certain turtle-loving girl.

a/n: i feel absolutely awful for posting the last few stories for obx week late but i appreciate every single person who has participated in it by writing, reblogging, and reading along :') <3

“Let’s get matching tattoos!” JJ blurted out. 

“Are you crazy?” John B. asked his best friend.

You and the Pogues were all on the boardwalk, spending another hot summer day just wandering around.

“Come on! Something to remember this moment by.” JJ explained. 

“I don’t know…” you started.

“Wait, I actually think that’s kind of a cute idea. I mean, you only live once right?” Kiara interrupted. Not that you minded. You could never be annoyed at her. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Sarah said. 

“Yes, dude. Pogues for life, right?” 

“Yeah! Right…” you said, hoping no one noticed how quickly you changed your mind. 

But because you and the Pogues had all been friends for so long, they had found out about your “secret” crush a very long time ago. 

You had been falling for Kiara ever since you met her in elementary school. Her wavy brown hair and golden highlights, the way she cared about the environment, her sense of humor. Something about her pulled you in, you always felt the need to be in her presence. To be seen by her. You wondered how it felt to be loved by her. 

A few years ago, you were admiring Kiara as she did tarot card readings for your friends when JJ came up to you. He whispered in your ear, “Pretty, huh?” snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Yeah— wait what?” 

“You like her, right?” 

“Uhh, no. Not like that,” you said, unconvincingly. 

“So you just look at everyone like that?”

You relented, “Ugh. Fine. Maybe I do have a tiny, tiny crush on her. But it doesn’t matter, she would never like me back.” 

Your “tiny, tiny crush” on Kiara never went away. Soon, the other Pogues began to find out (mostly because JJ couldn’t keep his mouth shut) and you were growing scared that Kiara would be next. But to your knowledge, no one had told her. Yet. 

However, this matching tattoo thing was your chance to make it known. For a while now, you have been complimenting Kiara’s tattoos. The 11:11 on her wrist, the star on her anklet, and your favorite, the sun on the inside of her arm. Once, you joked about getting the moon to match with her, but she insisted that you actually do it. 

After more convincing from JJ, Kiara, Cleo and you against Sarah, John B., and Pope, the seven of you walked into the one and only tattoo parlor on your side of the island. 

Kiara and JJ were the only ones out of the group that already had tattoos, so it was safe to say the rest of you were just a tad nervous. You were braving it for the sake of not embarrassing yourself in front of who you thought was the coolest girl in the world. 

You had all decided to get “P4L” in tiny font in various places. Kiara on her wrist, JJ on his arm, Pope somewhere “hidden” according to him, Cleo and Sarah on their back shoulders, and John B. on his thigh. You just happened to be getting yours in the same spot as Kiara. 

After everyone took turns in the chair and expressed varying levels of uncomfortability, it was finally your turn. You had made up your mind. 

“Guys, I’m actually going to get two,” you announced.

“Y/N, are you sure? It’s your first time!” Sarah asked, concerned.

“I’ve been wanting this second one for a while so might as well get it out of the way,” you shrugged. 

“What are you going to get?” Kiara asked.

“I think you know.” 

“Wait. Are you serious?” 

Pope jumped in, “What is she talking about?” 

As the Pogues waited impatiently for the artist to stencil in your design, Kiara realized what you were doing. 

“Y/N. No. Freaking. Way.” 

“Yes. Way. It’s not too late for you to take back what you said, though.”

“Are you kidding me? This is incredible!” she squealed. “I can’t believe we’re going to have matching tattoos!” 

“Woah, woah, you guys are going to be matching? You’re more in love than I thought,” JJ said. 

His comment was punctuated by a thick silence in the air. 

“What? Was I not supposed to say that?” 

It was true. You being in love with Kiara was like a blind item in the group. Everyone knew, no one was sure if Kiara really knew, so no one brought it up. You were content with being her best friend on most days, and you only didn’t make a move in fear of losing the most important friendship you had. But if there was even the slightest chance she might feel the same way…

“Y/N?” Kiara broke the silence, looking at you. 

“Yeah?” you said, sheepishly. 

“Is that true? You have feelings for me?” 

Fuck it. You were already halfway through getting a permanent matching tattoo with her, you had nothing to lose. 

“Yes, but I don’t just have feelings for you. Feelings are fleeting. I’m in love with you,” you paused. “And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I’m still getting this tattoo, for our friendship. Because I want to have that forever with you.” 

“Shut up,” Kiara stopped you, placing her hand on your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Finally!” Everyone cheered, including the tattoo artist, who just seemed happy to be there.

[cfierce116]

I Want You Around Part 2

A/N: First off, thank you to EVERYONE who showed love on Part 1. I haven't written anything in 7 years so the getting the love means a lot to me. Anyway, here's part 2. Enjoy.

*Pairings: Solo Sikoa/OC (black fem)

*Warnings: Still 18+, a little tiny mention of smut...for now

*Word Count: Approximately 2200 words...

*

Fingers snapped rapidly in an impatient manner. “Earth to Sefa! Is anybody home?” 

Sefa jolted out of his reverie and turned away from the window he was looking out of. Two sets of curious dark brown eyes stared at him, one pair eyeing him in the rearview mirror and the other pair glancing back to the rear seat of the Tahoe he was lounging in.

“Huh?”

“We said what did you want to eat before we headed to the hotel,” Jon asked his younger brother. “Have you been ignoring us this entire time Uce?”

Sefa dragged a tattooed hand over his face and exhaled. “My bad. I just got a lot on my mind.” 

“Like what?” Joshua asked as he redirected his attention back to the road.

“Krys.” 

“Of course,” the twin brothers replied, smirks gracing their lips. 

Sefa rolled his eyes. “I know you not talking seeing as how sappy you are with your wife. You act like a lovesick puppy whenever we’re on the road Jon.” 

Joshua snickered. “He got you there.” 

“To hell with both of y’all. Anyway, what’s happening with Krys? Y’all good?”

“Yeah we’re good,” Sefa responded.  “At least I think we’re good.” 

“You think?” Jon asked as his eyebrow raised curiously. “What happened?”

Sefa exhaled as his mind wandered back to his late night conversation with Krys a couple of nights ago. Neither of them mentioned his request again before he left for the road and despite his calm demeanor on the outside Sefa was a nervous wreck inside. When he first decided he would ask her to move in with him, he was certain that Krys would agree since she loved him as much as he loved her. But she still hadn’t gave him an answer and he was starting to wonder if he jumped the gun too quickly.

“I asked her to move in with me.” 

“Like to live together?” Joshua asked.

“No to have a sleepover. Yes to live together dumbass,” Sefa quipped with a shake of his head.

“Well what did she say?” 

“She said she had to think about it.”

The twins’ faces dropped. “Oh.” 

Sefa looked between his two brothers. “Oh what? You think she’s gonna say no?” 

“Maybe she really does need time to think about it,” Jon said.

“Or maybe she need to figure out a nice way to tell your ass hell no.” 

Jon reached over and slapped Joshua in the chest. “You’re not helping at all.” 

“I’m just saying we need to consider all possibilities.” Joshua glanced at the rearview mirror to Sefa again. “But I’m sure it’s what Jon said. She just needs time to think. Living with somebody - especially your girlfriend - is a big step Uce. You’re sure you’re ready for that?” 

“Positive,” Sefa responded without hesitation. “She already stays at my place any time I’m home. We spend every second of our free time with one another. We should just make it official.” 

“Well are you sure Krys is ready for that?”

“I…Well I don’t know,” Sefa admitted softly. He placed his head in his hands and sighed. “Like I know she loves me but her biggest thing is she doesn’t want to ruin what we have now. And she’s worried moving in together will do that.”

“Take it from somebody who has lived with his wife for over a decade - that’s a valid concern to have. Quite frankly you don’t know somebody until you’ve lived with them,” Jon said.

“Let’s say y’all move in and y’all have some dumbass disagreement. There’s no other place for one of you to run to because y’all share a space.  And what if you uncover some annoying trait that she has that drives you insane? Kinda like how Jon hates how his wife refuses to put any item back in its intended place and leaves it laying around anywhere in their house.” 

Jon snapped his fingers and pointed at Joshua. “Y’all know I can’t stand a messy space. But I deal with it because I love her and we’ve been married for years. But best believe me it grates my fuckin nerves.”

The three brothers chuckled as Joshua exited the highway and merged onto the local roadway. Signs promoting local eateries passed by them indicating they were getting closer to their destination. 

“I hear y’all and I understand where Krys is coming from. But I know in my gut I’m making the right choice,” Sefa declared firmly. “We may not have been together for that long but she’s different Uce. I know she’s destined to be mine forever.” 

Sefa's older brothers shared a look with one another at the determination dripping from his tone. They knew when he had his mind focused on a goal there was nothing on Earth that would stop him from succeeding. But as his big brothers, they still felt an obligation to mentally prepare him if his plans didn't work out the way he wanted them to.

“Well what if she says no?”  Joshua asked.

Sefa pursed his lips together as he considered the possibility. Despite his confidence that Krys would eventually agree, he still had to consider how he would feel if she said no. There was no doubt that they would still love one another but would it cause a fracture in their otherwise stable relationship?

He simply didn’t know. 

Before Sefa could answer, Joshua pulled into the parking lot of Waffle House making Jon audibly groan. Sefa quickly pushed any negative thoughts out of his mind as he watched his older brothers bicker with one another as they exited the truck. He climbed out of the backseat and stretched his arms over his head, his black t-shirt slightly rising and exposing a sliver of skin. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out his cell phone. A picture of him and Krys taken earlier that year on his birthday on the lively Miami strip greeted him as he swiftly unlocked his phone. He typed a quick message to her before he slipped into a booth across from his brothers. 

 *

“So lemme get this straight.”

Krys glanced up from her phone, an easy smile on her lips as she read the text from Sefa she received a few seconds ago. Her gaze landed on her best friend Imani as she leaned back in the booth across from her, folding her arms over the basic white tank top she was wearing. 

“Your boyfriend that you love with all of your heart asked you to move in with him. And you, Krystle Washington, told him you had to think about it?” 

“Yes,” Krys replied with a nod. She grabbed her frozen margarita and took a quick sip. “Exactly.” 

“And exactly how am I supposed to help you make a decision?” 

“You’re supposed to help me think logically about this. You know when it comes to Sefa I can be a little-"

“Dick-notized.” 

An embarrassed flush colored Krys face as she flipped Imani the middle finger. “You’re not funny.”

“Of course I’m not. I’m fuckin hilarious.” 

The two women shared a look before bursting into a fit of giggles causing the other patrons in the restaurant to glance at their table. 

The moment Krys dropped Sefa off at the airport the day before, she immediately called Imani and declared an emergency lunch meeting at their favorite Mexican restaurant.  Besides Sefa, Imani knew her better than anyone else in her life since they’ve been friends since their undergrad days. While Krys moved through life in an impulsive manner, Imani planned everything. She never made a decision unless she weighed all of the pros and cons and always had a back up plan. On the outside looking in, the two would not look like they would mesh well as best friends. However, they both offered one another something they needed: In Krys, Imani had a friend that encouraged her to let loose a little and to ignore her perfectly crafted plans.  Meanwhile Imani was the one Krys knew she could count on to ground her in reality instead of allowing her to get lost in her whimsical fantasy world.

“Imani give me some credit. I actually held off on making a choice the night he asked me.” 

“Which I must say I’m shocked. Because you and I both know you’re the kind to act first and ask questions never in most scenarios.” 

“Yes but living together with your boyfriend is a huge commitment.” 

“It is. Sharing a mutual space with one another. Dividing expenses. Having to agree on the same toilet paper to use. All important aspects.” 

“And I love Sefa. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have reservations.” 

“Such as?” 

Krys sighed as she ran a hand over her curly hair that was styled in a messy top bun, her index finger toying with the salted rim of her glass. “Things are just going really well with us right now even with him constantly being on the road. But what if we move in together we realize that we were better off having our own space and freedom? That we’re not compatible enough to live with one another? What if it causes us to break up?”

Imani placed her fork down on her plate and reached across the table grabbing her friend’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re absolutely right. Those possibilities could happen. But I’m certain they won’t.” 

“Why?”

“Because Sefa adores you. If he could he would give you the entire world. And we both know he doesn’t let many people close to him. Him asking you to live with him is a giant leap that he’s taking as well. But he’s willing to take it because he loves you so much. And with the limited knowledge that I have about the way he thinks, I know he wouldn’t have asked you if he wasn’t absolutely sure about y’all relationship. Now I know I’m the last person who would say something like this but let’s think about the good things that could happen if you moved in with him.”

“Like what?” 

“The bond you share with him could grow stronger. Y’all could grow closer. Y’all could fall in love even more. Hell it might even lead to…” 

Imani trailed off as Krys felt anxiety fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She would be lying to herself if she said the image of her marching down the aisle to an awaiting Sefa didn’t cross her mind once or twice. But that’s what made this dilemma so challenging. She didn’t want her choice to fuck up the best thing that had happened to her in years. And most importantly, she didn’t want to hurt Sefa.

What initially started off as her accepting a date from a handsome new NXT recruit months after she started her new job as a photographer for WWE had blossomed into something even her idyllic brain couldn’t dream of. From the moment their lips first touched on their first date, Krys knew Sefa was different from the prior men she dated.  Yes the sex was breathtaking. But their connection went deeper than that. He was stoic on the outside but possessed a heart full of gold that only Krys and others close to him got to witness. He always surprised her with how he paid attention to every detail about her from how she liked her coffee (with five creams until the liquid matched her complexion) to how she preferred to wear her curly hair (a top knot bun to avoid her thick mane laying on her neck in the Florida humidity). He didn’t speak much but when he did, his deep, strong voice oozed into her ears like liquid gold causing her to hang onto every word he said,  fantasizing about the different spots on her body she wanted his thick lips to caress. 

But one of the most important aspects of their relationship was that Sefa accepted Krys for the person she was instead of trying to change her into what he thought the perfect girlfriend should be. He made her feel safe to show him the true her. With her exes, she always felt the pressure to conform her personality to merge seamlessly with theirs. But Sefa never made her feel that way. He was a loner and she was a social butterfly. She constantly wore her emotions on her sleeve while he hid his under lock and key unless he really trusted you. On paper, the two of them were like oil and vinegar. But to anybody that saw them together they were perfect for one another.  While she had her concerns about living with him and their relationship advancing to the next level, Krys couldn’t ignore what she knew deep down in her core.

Sefa was the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. 

“I know that look all too well.” 

The sound of Imani’s voice interrupted Krys's thoughts. Her eyes landed on Imani's smirking face. “What?” 

“I know you called me out to help you decide but let’s face it. Krys you already knew what you wanted to say the night he asked you,” Imani said. “Remove what I think and what Sefa wants from the equation. What would make Krys happy?” 

Krys bit the corner of her lip , silently considering her friend's words before reaching for her purse on the seat next to her and pulled out her cell phone. Her eyes fell on the background photo of her and Sefa standing in front of his mother’s large Christmas tree the year before as she entered her lock code, the device immediately landing on the message thread between the two. Before her fears could stop her, Krys typed out a simple three word text.

Yes.

[softblesses]

Winter is Here.

This is a fic created for the lovers of sickfic & some snz, mostly just created for my self indulgence. Please don’t reblog to non-kink blogs. It hasn’t been fully beta read or edited yet, but I’m impatient.

Feel free to hop into my dms to discuss and yell about N/eal Ca/ffrey & the show in general! I’m on a rewatch and back in my hyper fixate stages. I’m not done writing for these lot just yet!

~Part 1 below the line~

“Dammit, Neal. .” Was a phrase Peter Burke found himself saying multiple times a day, several times a week. His CI was late again, and hasn’t been answering his phone. Granted, it’s only been half an hour, but there’s no telling when Neal will arrive or what excuse he’ll come up with this time.

Eventually, almost two hours later, Peter spots him making his way across the bullpen and upstairs. There’s a coffee cup in his hand, of course, and his hat is slightly askew and dusted with snow.

“And what time do you call this, exactly?” Peter mutters, not looking up from his paperwork as he flicks through another page and sighs.

A pause. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to answer with the exact time?” Neal questions, removing his hat and taking a seat, tipping the cup up to his mouth to finish the hot drink up.

Peter sighs once again, simply sliding a pile of papers Neal’s way. “Paperwork day, congratulations,” he mutters, glancing up at his informant and watching his disappointed facial expression towards the task at hand.

Neal picks up a pen from the conference room desk, and scans over the pages. He flicks through them pages, click-clacks the pen a few times, and sighs heavily, followed by a yawn.

“Boring you already?” Peter hums, gaze still concentrated on the work before him as he hunches over.

“Somethin’ like that,” Neal mutters back, moving to stand.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Burke sits upright, an eyebrow quirked upwards and arms folding neatly across his chest.

“Jeez, Peter. A man isn’t allowed to use the bathroom anymore?” His hands held up in surrender, before making his way to the door.

Heading across the bullpen, his pace a little slower than usual, Neal clears his throat; once, twice. It’s still scratchy, and he’d assumed it was just lack of water whilst sleeping overnight. He sniffles next, and surely that was just the freeze in the air outside; winter has dawned upon New York with a vengeance, and the chill he feels certainly confirms that much. But, a second before he reaches the men’s room, he sneezes. Not all that unusual. . . It happens, from time to time.

He eventually makes his way back to the conference room, blinking a few times and sniffling again. He should’ve warmed up by now; the office has heating, and usually he has no issues with temperature regulation. But something isn’t quite right this morning. Neal sits, shifting uncomfortably as he stares at the page in front of him. He’s always hated this part of their deal, working the cases and having to fill in page after page of writing afterwards — especially after a particularly in-depth job. But, it’s not that bad , and usually they get pizza and coffees and he’ll complain until Peter lets him take a break or two.

Today, Neal Caffrey is almost silent. Peter doesn’t like that, because a silent Neal means something is up. He’s planning something, or working on some sort of escape out of the inevitable boredom of paperwork, surely.

“Neal?” Peter calls for a second time, staring across at his partner. “Anyone home?”

Watering blue eyes glance upwards, and a quick swipe of his hand dries them off. “What?” He doesn’t mean to snap, but he’s tired, and Peter’s bothering him for something that will most likely be a quip against him. It doesn’t usually bother him, but today he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Jeez, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, huh?”

“I was asking, do you want pizza? My treat.”

Neal looks back down at his papers, subtly trying to rub at his nose. “No, thanks. I ate.” It’s not all a lie. He had a pastry before leaving the house, but now he really wasn’t hungry.

Squinting at him, Peter shrugs. Something was off about him today, and he’ll get to the bottom of it. . After he rounds up the others, and gets their pizza orders in. He leaves the room after a minute or two, and Neal sinks down in his chair with a relieved sigh. He reaches into his suit pocket for the few squares of tissue he’d taken from the bathroom, and pats at his nose. Neal Caffrey doesn’t get sick. He thought to himself, stifling a sneeze against his wrist and rubbing his eyes.

He gets to his feet after that, collecting up his papers and sneaking out of the room and to his desk. It’ll be easier to concentrate here, that’s what he’ll tell Peter. He’s just tired, and the weather is making his head all fuzzy. In fact, he barely notices Peter coming up behind him, and he even uncharacteristically flinches as a hand settles on his shoulder a moment later.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine.” Neal deadpans, scrawling some notes onto his sheet.

“You sure?”

“Peter, I’m just doing what I’m not paid for. Can concentrate better down here — Jones chews too loud.” He mutters, and really, it’s not exactly a lie.

“Alright. . Pizza’s gonna be up there soon if you want some.” The footsteps wander away, and Neal’s left alone again.

An hour passes by, and then another, and Peter’s keeping an eye on Neal through the glass of the conference room. In fairness, he hasn’t seen him do anything particularly strange. . . Aside from visit the bathroom once or twice, and make his way back and forth from the water cooler. Maybe he’s calling the short friend. Or, maybe he’s just thirsty. Either way, he seems grumpy and Peter would rather leave him to sulk about the paperwork day alone, if that’s what gives them some peace for the rest of the afternoon.

The day begins to draw to a close as the clock ticks closer to five pm, yet the piles of papers don’t seem to be dissipating at the same rate. Peter exhales heavily as he signs off on another report, placing it carefully on top of the other one. He’d sent Jones home a few minutes ago, and Lauren too. They didn’t have as much to do, and the weather looked to be worsening — the both of them lived further than Peter does.

His eyebrows raise as there’s a small knock at the door, and his eyes light up at the pleasant sight of his wife. Peter stands, grinning now. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questions, stepping closer and giving her a kiss on the cheek. . . But, she doesn’t look as happy to see him as he does her.

Uh oh. What did he do now?

“Well, I was on my way home and wanted to bring you some warm treats. . .” El trails off, folding her arms with the paper bag still in hand.

“But?” Peter adds expectantly, genuinely dumbfounded.

“Have you seen Neal?”

“Oh, God, what did he —“ the agent glances over at Neal’s desk, surprised to see he’s still there. Not only

Is he still there, but. . .

“Is he asleep?” Peter scoffs out something of a laugh, shaking his head. “Working hard or hardly workin’, huh?”

“Peter!” El scolds, giving him a light tap on the arm.

“What?!”

“Have you actually paid attention to him? C’mon.” She gestures for her husband to follow her down into the bullpen, and all the way to Neal’s desk. He’s snoring, head resting against his arm. His cheeks seem to display a light flush, and the tip of his nose looks irritated and red.

Peter frowns.

“Honey, he’s sick. He must be exhausted!” El whispers, a look of genuine sympathy crossing her features. “We need to take him home. He needs fluids and rest, not paperwork and scolding.”

Peter is speechless for a moment. Neal? Sick? He’d thought he was simply up to something, and in a bad mood because of their boring day of work. He supposes it makes sense now — avoiding him, going to the bathroom more often and drinking lots of water. He must’ve been trying to soothe a sore throat, and had clearly been hiding it from Peter, too.

“He pulled a health con on me. .” He mutters, watching as his wife gently rouses his CI from the slumber he’s been in for God knows how long. Some Detective, huh?

Neal sits up fast, a sharp intake of breath causing a light bout coughing. There’s a sheet of paper stuck to his cheek, and his hair is disheveled and sweaty. Peter tries not to laugh at the sight, as bad as he feels for him at the same time.

“Contrary to popular belief,” Neal mumbles, voice thick with congestion now. “I was not asleep. I was envisioning. . Paperwork, with my eyes. Closed. My eyes closed.”

El pouts, looking at Peter, before reaching to pluck the stuck paper from Neal’s cheek. “I think you’re a little feverish, honey. Let’s get you home.” She offers Neal an arm, to which he takes without question; a dazed sort of look in his usually bright blue eyes. Peter gathers up their things, and they begin to lead the confused conman to their car outside.

“What about the paperwork?” Neal asks, frowning as he’s ushered into the elevator. “Peter always makes me do paperwork. El, did you know? Your husband. . He’s mean.” Neal ‘whispers,’ and leans against the wall for support.

“It can wait,” Peter answers simply. “And, I’m not mean.”

“He didn’t give me pizza.”

“You didn’t want pizza!”

“El, he’s shouting at me.” Neal pouts, closing his eyes and resting his head against her shoulder. She places an arm around him to keep him steady, biting against her bottom lip to keep in a chuckle. He’s clearly still sleepy, and somewhat delirious. Poor thing.

They manage to get Neal to the car in one piece, and Peter gets in the driver’s seat, whilst El sits in the back to keep an eye on their passenger. She glances at him, watching his teeth chatter and listening to him sniffle. He must’ve been feeling off all day, and the weather certainly can’t be helping anything.

“Neal?” She says softly, frowning as he flinches at the car engine starting up.

It takes a moment, but he looks at her, somewhat of a lucid gaze staring back.

“Tissue?” She smiles, offering him a packet that she had in her bag. He reaches for it, mumbling a quiet and stuffy ‘thanks,’ before plucking one out and holding it to his nose.

The rest of the car ride is mostly silent, with Neal resting his head against the cooling car window, and drifting off to sleep before they’d even left the parking garage building. Elizabeth and Peter exchange whispered conversation along the way, until they pull up outside their house and quietly argue about who has to wake Neal.

“But, he looks so peaceful!”

“He can’t stay in the car, he’ll get cold. C’mon.” Peter opens his door, and walks around the side of the car to let Elizabeth out.

She sighs, giving her husband a kiss on the cheek. “Get the stove heated and the ingredients for tomato soup onto the counter, would you? I’ll bring him inside.” He nods, giving her hand a squeeze, before making his way up to their front door and unlocking it.

“Neal, sweetie?” She’s careful when opening the car door, aware that he’s leaning against it. “We’re here.”

The chill of the air outside is enough to wake him up with a start, looking around in confusion and taking a moment to gather his surroundings. “Elizabeth,” Neal murmurs. “This is. . . Not my apartment.”

“Nope,” she hums back, reaching in to help him undo his seatbelt. “You’re staying for dinner. Come on.”

It takes them a short while, but she manages to get Neal up and out of the car, into the house and up the stairs. She brings him a pair of sweatpants Peter never wears, so that he can at least tie them up to fit a little better, and a long sleeved plaid pyjama shirt to change into.

“I’ll be just outside the door, alright?” She leaves the bathroom door ajar, so that she can listen to make sure he doesn’t fall over whilst getting changed. Thankfully, it all seems to go smoothly, and El is soon helping him downstairs and onto the couch.

Covering him up with a blanket, and giving his hair a little ruffle. “Let me get you some Tylenol for that temperature of yours,” she tells him softly, making her way into the kitchen to check on Peter first.

She brings him back a large glass of water and two Tylenol pills, carefully handing them to him and telling him to ‘drink up, slowly.’

Neal does as he’s instructed to, grimacing at the feeling in his throat as the pills slide down. His head rests against the back of the couch afterwards in defeat, and he looks at Elizabeth with an expression that could break even the coldest of hearts.

“You really are sick, huh?” She says quietly, placing his glass down on the coffee table. “Well, I’m making soup as we speak. I’ll get Peter to come sit with you.”

Neal shakes his head.

“He won’t bite,” she teases. “He’s worried about you, y’know. But, keep that a secret between us, okay?” A smile crosses her features, before she turns and makes her way back to the kitchen.

Neal feels the couch cushions get a little heavier beside him, and opens his eyes to spy Peter now sitting beside him. He doesn’t have the energy to say anything, and it hurts his throat to even try. He simply blinks, sniffles, and closes his eyes again.

“Who would’ve thought it?” Peter begins, reaching to tuck the blanket around Neal a little tighter; noting him tense up, but relax a moment later. “Neal Caffrey, famous con artist, forger and art thief,, befelled by the common cold, of all things. Why couldn’t you have been sick when I was chasing you? Would’ve saved me a damn load of time.”

“Alleged,” Neal croaks, opening his eyes again to glare at his handler.

Peter laughs, reaching out to pat the poor man’s shoulder.

“I could still beat you if I had the plague.” He mutters next, hiding his face under the blanket. ‘Hh—xght.’ Another stifled sneeze, although not all that well this time.

“Bless you, and, I doubt that very much. Looking at you now, you couldn’t run anywhere. Not even to the bathroom, I doubt.”

Neal pops back up again, sniffling and glaring still. “You don’t know that.” He whispers, reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table; Peter handing it to him, so that he doesn’t have to leave his blanket.

“Is that why you didn’t wanna have pizza with us today? Or work with me?” Peter asks quietly, leaning back against the couch cushions and grimacing slightly at the noise of Neal blowing his nose beside him.

A long pause. “Are you sure you’re FBI?” Neal quips, his voice still as scratchy as sandpaper.

Before Peter can make a comment back, El’s coming out of the kitchen, holding a tray for Neal. “Homemade soup, comin’ right up!” She smiles, setting it carefully down upon the coffee table. “No pressure to eat a lot, just have what you can.” She reassures gently, handing him the bowl.

“Thank you,” Neal mutters quielty, and it’s only for a second, but El could’ve sworn she saw his eyes get a little teary.

They leave Neal to eat his soup, fetching their own bowls and taking a seat at the table. He doesn’t eat much, but the feeling of the warm soup against his aching throat is nice. The steam is nice too, and he simply sits there for a while with the bowl held up to his face, before putting it back on the tray and curling up into the blankets.

“Do you think anyone has ever done this before?” El asks, stirring her soup absent minderdly, as she watches over Neal ftom across the room.

“What? See Neal Caffrey act like a little, stubborn kid?” Peter retorts, picking up a piece of bread and taking a large bite.

El rolls her eyes, but there’s a fond look on her face as she shakes her head. “No,” she answers. “Take care of him. You know? He looked so. . . Shocked, when I brought him the soup. D’you think he’s always been alone in this sort of thing?” She considers, her own heart feeling heavy at the notion of Neal being all alone and unwell.

Peter falls quiet, dipping his bread into his soup for so long that it falls in. “Ah, crap—“ he mutters to himself, sighing. “You’re probably right. . He probably hasn’t been looked after. I don’t know much about his past, but I don’t doubt it was lonely.” He looks up at El, a sad sort of smile on his face.

“But, he’s got us now.”

•••

Neal wakes up two hours later, to the sound of the television on low volume, and quiet voices chatting around him. He blinks slow, looking around; Peter’s sitting on the floor in front of him, with Satchmo resting on his legs. Someone’s beside him, too. . . Must be El. Everything still feels heavy, but he doesn’t feel as shivery anymore. It still hurts to swallow, but feels a little less like knives now, at least.

“Neal,” a soft, female voice breaks his train of thought. Elizabeth. “How’re you feeling?”

It takes him a minute to answer, but opening his mouth to talk somehow becomes a cough instead, and the next thing he knows someone is handing him water. Oh, Peter. Peter’s kind to him. He takes a long drink, shakily passing it back and moving to sit a little better.

“Tired,” Neal answers, voice even more hoarse from lack of use during his nap.

“Do you want to go up to bed? Guest room is all set up for you.” Elizabeth offers, reaching out to gently rest her palm against his arm.

Neal thinks on it for a moment, scrunching his nose and trying to rid of the itch whilst he does so. A shake of his head; upstairs means being alone. Downstairs means being warm, and comfortable and with Peter and Elizabeth. It’s safe downstairs.

He moves a moment later though, and both Peter and El’s gazes immediately snap towards his direction.

“‘M just going to the bathroom.” Neal informs, trying his best to escape the entanglement of blankets without any help. . Failing miserably, and having Elizabeth help him unwravel.

He denies needing help, taking quite a while upstairs, before eventually re-emerging and taking each stair very slowly and one at a time. Peter decides that as funny this situation is, he doesn’t like it one bit. Neal usually bounds down the stairs, with the same energy as a golden retriever — and the cheerfulness of one too.

“You sure you don’t want to go to bed?” Peter asks, earning a frown from Neal as Elizabeth tucks him back in.

“You know. . .” El begins, giving Neal’s hair another little ruffle and passing him his water. “When I got sick as a kid, my Dad used to let me have a ‘couch bed’ night. He’d set me up on the couch downstairs, and we’d watch my favourite movies and drink hot chocolates, until I fell asleep. How about we do the same?” She suggests, smiling at the two men beside her.

A small smile forms upon Neal’s face, and he nods. A couch bed night sounds nice. He’s never had one of those before.

•••

El and Peter stay downstairs for the majority of the evening and into the night; Neal didn’t take long to fall asleep, and only woke up once, before the husband and wife made their own ways to bed, leaving the bedroom door open incase Neal needs anything during the night. Things seem to stay peaceful, until a thud from downstairs rouses El from her slumber, and she’s quick to shake Peter awake, too.

“Did you hear that?” She whispers, sitting bolt upright.

“No, but I guess it’s my problem now. .” Peter mumbles, still half asleep as he moves to sit up.

The sound of Satchmo whining confirms to Elizabeth that she didn’t wake up for nothing, and she’s already rushing out of the room and down the stairs before Peter can even plant his feet upon the floor. But, she wasn’t expecting to find Satchmo with his paws resting against Neal’s knees, and the quiet sound of. . . Crying?

“Neal?” Her voice is soft, so as not to startle him. “What happened? Are you hurt?” She crouches beside him, and Peter soon makes his way downstairs.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. . Neal, honey? Did you have a bad dream?” She reaches out, and he flinches away, not quite lucid enough to register their company.

A soft gasp falls from her lips, and she stands. “He’s burning. I’ll get some things, will you calm him down?” She reaches to give Satchmo a pat, and turns to make a beeline for the stairs.

A quiet sigh follows after that, and Peter takes a seat beside Neal. Unsure if he’s even lucid enough to understand him, he reaches out slowly to rub the other’s arm, in attempt to somewhat comfort. “You know I don’t do so great when people cry,” Peter keeps his voice quiet. “But, I’ll make an exception here; just this once.” He gives Neal’s shoulder a careful squeeze, painfully aware of how warm he is.

“She’s gone, Peter. .”

Ah, so is he somewhat aware of his presence.

“It was a dream, Neal. You’ve got a fever — it makes your dreams worse. You’re alright now.” He reassures gently, turning his head at the sound of his wife’s footsteps drawing closer again.

“Here, Neal. It’s for your temperature. Can you open your mouth, for me?” It takes a moment of repeating herself, but he eventually complies, and Peter reaches to switch on a lamp so that they can see better.

Neal’s shivering makes it so that he can’t keep the thermometer in place independently, so Elizabeth carefully holds it in place for him. A sympathetic expression is stuck upon her face, and she gently reaches to wipe away some of Neal’s tears.

“We’ll get you some medicine and you’ll be feeling less upset,” she reassures gently, removing the thermometer as it begins to beep at an urgent pace.

‘103.6.’ Is the reading on the screen, and she turns it around to show Peter. He gives a disapproving shake of his head (which is really out of concern,) and reaches to move Neal’s blanket. But, the sound of a tired sob and the weak grip of Neal’s fingers stop him.

“Alright, he can keep the blanket. I’ll get him some water for the Tylenol.” Peter mutters, wasting no time in fetching what they need and returning to Elizabeth trying to help Neal clean up his tear stricken cheeks.

Taking a seat beside him again while Elizabeth takes the almost empty glass from him, she watches as Neal begins to lean to one side, until he’s resting against Peter’s arm. “Y—you’re not gone?” The CI murmurs, sniffling as his teeth chatter togerher.

“We’re not gone, Neal. We’re right here. El’s getting you a cool cloth for your forehead.” He wraps an arm around him, carefully guiding Neal’s head against his chest to make him more comfortable. If this is where he’ll sleep and calm down, so be it. Peter can sacrifice a few hours of rest to help his friend.

The cool cloth is placed gently against his forehead, and both El and Peter stay with him until his shivering has dissipated and he’s fast asleep again.

“Never seen him like that before,” Peter whispers. “And I don’t ever want to see it again.”

Elizabeth reaches to take her husband’s free hand. “Think you can carry him to the guest room? No use having an FBI agent completely sleep deprived, and his CI with neck ache from sleeping like that.”

“I’ll have you know, I make a great pillow.” Peter whispers back, assessing the current situation for a moment. “I can carry him.”

It takes almost an hour, but Neal’s fever eventually goes down to a low grade one again, and they can all rest easy for the rest of the night. He’s safe in the guest room beside them, his congested snoring heard in the master bedroom. But, neither of the couple in the bed mind it. It’s a comforting reminder that he’s asleep.

[tngrace]

Chapter 3

Hope 31..... nough said 🤭 😭 This one hurts... but man did I have fun writing this chapter and the next. I also figured out how I'm going to write the last chapter this week so hopefully in the next two weeks I'll get it written. and then it'll be on to part two. Hope yall enjoy and Happy Easter weekend.

A03 ; Tumblr Masterlists: Main, Mav Chronicles

The weekend is fun and relaxing and just what they needed. Watching Pete with Bradley is a true treat and makes Tom wish for things he knows will probably never be. They head into Monday morning refreshed and ready to go, none of them realizing what’s to come.

The second hop of the day is intense, Mav and Ice going up against each other, essentially sealing the winner of the trophy. Though neither of them really care at this point, would be happy for the other, they’re both still very competitive and determined to win. They go back and forth for the kill, their voices getting more intense and annoyed the longer it goes, more argumentative and impatient. But neither expected the jet wash or the flat spin. 

“Mayday! Mayday! Mav’s in trouble. He’s in a flat spin. He’s heading out to sea!” His voice is calm and controlled but there’s a slight tremor there as he watches. 

He and Slider see the two parachutes, but they know something’s wrong. He circles over head, refusing to leave, even when Jester orders them back. 

“Ice,” Slider says after ten minutes of circling, watching Mav and Goose in the water. 

“I’m not leaving. We don’t know how long search and rescue will take to get here. They’ll need the coordinates as Mav floats.” 

Slider doesn’t push. They both had seen how Goose had hit the canopy, how his body floated listlessly down, how Mav had pulled him into his arms and Goose still didn’t move. Ice keeps circling, and ever so often it looks like Mav looks up at them, but they can’t be sure. 

“Ice, Slider, back to base. SAR is two minutes out.” Viper’s voice is firm over their radio, and finally Ice acknowledges and turns them towards base. He doesn’t say a word on the return flight, leaving Slider worried. 

Mike's heart is in his throat when he hears the mayday call come in. He dispatches search and rescue immediately and grips his hands in tight fists as he waits. He hears Jester order Ice and Slider back to base, but he still doesn't move. He wants to be a dad in this moment but he can't. He has to be a Commander and it's killing him. 

He sees Jester’s plane land, and he takes a deep breath, and then another one. He dials Carrie; "Metcalf's," she answers. 

"I'm going to be late." He doesn't know what else to say without breaking down, but he has to tell her. 

"Mike? What's wrong?" 

"There…." He cuts off, choking back a sob. He breathes deep before he continues. "There was an accident during training. I'll be at the base hospital most of the night." 

"Is everyone ok?"

"I don't know yet. I just…. Waiting on SAR right now. I…"

"Mike?"

"It was Pete," he breathes. He hears her breath catch and he'd love nothing more than to hug her. "I…. I can't go there as…. And you can't…"

"Mike. You call me the minute you lay eyes on him! You hear me? I have to know…" He can hear the hysteria in her voice and he’d love to let her come check on Pete for herself, but he knows they can’t. 

"I will… I will… I just… I have to be detached and I just…"

"I know. Just breathe. You can do this. But you let me know our boy's ok."

He takes another ten deep breaths after hanging up. When he sees that Ice and Slider still haven’t landed, he orders them back to base as well. He’s not sure what is going on with Tom and Pete, but he knows it’s something. Once he sees their plane heading for the landing strip, he pulls himself together and heads to the hangar where he knows the class will have gathered. “You’re dismissed for the day. SAR will take them straight to the base hospital and we’ll let you know when there’s an update.” 

“Can we wait there?” Wolf asks.

“Of course. But you might be waiting a while.” He takes in all their faces and knows he’ll be seeing them all at the hospital. “Dismissed.” 

They scatter, and Mike rakes his hand through his hair. He’d kill for one of Rick’s cigarettes at that moment, but he knows the hospital won’t allow him to have it inside anyways. He makes the trek over, bracing for the worst while hoping for the best. He’s not sure what he’ll do if something happened to his own kid under his watch. 

A nurse greets him as soon as he enters; “Sir.” He gives her a nod to continue because he’s not sure if he can speak right now. “Lieutenant Mitchell is going to be fine. He has some severe bruising, mild concussion and is currently in shock, but overall he will make a full recovery.” 

Mike blows out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “And Bradshaw?” 

The nurse stops their trek down the hall and Mike tenses once more. “I’m sorry Sir. Lieutenant Bradshaw didn’t make it. His neck was broken and likely died upon impact, we assume he hit the canopy. Lieutenant Mitchell hasn’t offered up any details on what happened as of yet, so the doctor is just making assumptions.” 

“Has Bradshaw’s wife been informed?” 

“Not yet, no. We were waiting to see who you wanted to designate to do that.” 

“I’ll handle it,” Mike decides. “Can I see Mitchell?” 

“Of course. Right this way.” She shows him to Pete’s room, and Mike pauses, gathering the strength to push the door open. When he does, he feels the breath knocked out of him once more. Pete looks so small in the bed, eyes closed, but Mike knows he’s not asleep. 

The nurse leaves him with it, and Mike quietly closes the door behind him. Pete’s eyes snap open at the sound of the door closing, and when they meet Mike’s, he quickly turns his head the other way. 

He pulls up a chair beside the bed, and tentatively reaches out for Pete’s hand that has an IV in it. He can see where Pete has picked at the tape around it, and it brings a small smile to his face as he smooths it back out. Some things with his kid will never change, he thinks. “Pete?” 

Pete turns his head back towards him, tears shining in his eyes, but he keeps them from falling. 

“I’m not going to ask you if you’re ok because I know you’re not.” He pauses as he watches Pete just staring at him. “I told mom. She’d be here if she could, you know.” 

“I know,” he croaks in a whisper. 

Mike squeezes his hand tighter once more. “You’re not ok right now, but you will be…. You will be.” 

Pete turns away again and Mike sighs. “We have to be even more careful now, so this is the only time I can offer you any form of comfort kiddo. There’s going to be an inquiry; they’ll let me know the date tomorrow.” Pete still won’t meet his eyes and Mike feels like they’re back at day one when they brought home a scared nine year old that didn’t trust them. “Pete? You know I love you son. But I need you to know that right now and for the next however long it takes to get the brass off our backs, I can’t be ‘dad’. No matter how bad I want to be.” 

Pete gives him a tentative nod, and Mike can’t resist any longer. He leans over and pulls Pete into his arms, into his chest. He resists at first, but the first hint of Mike’s cologne and Pete breaks. The sobs break Mike’s heart even more, and he just holds him. He murmurs soft innate words of comfort as his son breaks in his arms. It takes several, several long minutes before Pete starts settling, his sobs turning to quiet sniffles, before he eventually just goes silent. 

Mike softly strokes his back as he keeps holding him. “I’ll try to sneak mom in after hours ok?” 

He knows Carrie isn’t going to rest with just his reassurance that Pete is ok, and he knows Pete really needs her at this moment. Pete gives a small nod before his whispered words destroy what is left of his broken heart. “Just don’t get in trouble for me.” 

Mike pulls Pete’s head off his chest and stares into Pete’s eyes. “We’d do anything for you and you know it kiddo. If it comes down to a choice between you and the Navy…” Pete tries to interrupt him, but Mike just keeps talking. “If it does, I’m choosing you every time kiddo. Every. Single. Time.” 

“Mike…” 

“I mean it Pete. You are my son, my kid, and if the Navy doesn’t like it, they can go fuck themselves. You matter Pete. I love you son.” 

“Love you too dad,” he whispers as he falls back into Mike’s chest. 

Mike lets out a deep breath at that. Pete isn’t ok, but he’ll make sure he is, no matter what he has to do. 

After several minutes of letting Pete resettle he has the horrible task of making Pete recount what happened. It’s the most detached he’s ever heard his kid, and it strengthens his resolve to sneak Carrie in to see him later. Once he’s sure he has everything Pete can recall, he squeezes his hand once more. “Try to get some rest. I can keep the others out if you want?” 

“Na. It’s fine. I’m sure they need to see with their eyes I’m fine. Especially Ice and Slider.” 

“Alright. I’ll let them know.” He leans close in case anyone can hear; “I’ll get mom in here later. That’s a promise.” 

Pete gives him a weak nod. They both know what a risk it is, but he’d do it over and over for Pete. He gives him a nod and then heads for the door, with one glance back at his son. 

Mike’s not surprised to find the six aviators waiting in the waiting room. They all jump up as soon as they see him, and Mike pulls himself together. “Mitchell is going to be fine. Some bruises that will heal in time and a mild concussion. He’ll be discharged tomorrow.” 

He sees a small relief flow through the group, and he knows what he says next will cause it to vanish. 

“Bradshaw on the other hand, is… dead. Broke his neck on the canopy as soon as he hit. I’m going to inform his wife now.” 

The six aviators before him are deathly quiet, grief written across all their faces. 

“Can we see Mav?” Wolfe finally breaks the silence. 

Mike gives them a nod. “He’s pretty detached, still in shock. He’s resting, but he said it would be fine for all of you to visit. Probably do him some good to not be alone right now. Classes are dismissed for the rest of the week. When arrangements have been made, you’ll be the first to know.” He gives them a nod of dismissal and takes his leave. 

The six aviators scurry down the hall to Mav’s room. Wolf and Wood are through the door first, just barely squeezing in before Chipper and Sunny. Ice stands at the door for a long moment just breathing, trying to prepare, and Slider waits with him squeezing his shoulder. Tom wants nothing more than to race in and scoop Pete into his arms, but he knows he can’t. Once he lays eyes on his boyfriend, who’s barely engaging with the other four, he leans in the corner just watching. He can see Pete’s eyes trail over to him ever so often, and he finally sees when Slider realizes they need to go. Tom gives him a nod of thanks, and promises to get back to their base housing later, before Ron turns and ushers everyone out. 

Once he’s sure they’re gone, he walks over and settles on the side of Pete’s bed. His hand ghosts over Pete’s forehead, brushing the hair back. “Hey,” he whispers. 

Pete can’t speak, too choked up holding back tears. 

“Come here,” Tom whispers, easing down and helping Pete sit up some and lean into his arms. He holds him as tight as he dares, knowing under the gown Pete will be covered in bruises too painful to be held too tight. “I’m so sorry,” Tom whispers over and over as Pete sobs in his arms. He finally exhausts himself even more, and Tom can feel him drift off. He eases Pete back to the bed and covers him up. He sits and watches him sleep, knowing the coming days, weeks, and months are going to be hell, and wonders if Pete will blame him, wonders if this will be the end of them. Once Pete is deep asleep, Tom takes his leave, knowing he can’t stay any longer without them being found out. 

After talking with Carole, he finally makes it home; it’s late enough he knows he’ll just be leaving as soon as he’s through the door though. Carrie is waiting on him at the door just as he suspected, and he pulls her into his arms. “He’s going to be ok. Just some bruising and a mild concussion. He was still in shock earlier. I…” He feels her squeeze him tighter and he lets out a soft sigh. “I promised to sneak you in. He needs you.” 

“Do we tell the girls?” 

“Not yet. Sneaking you in is going to be hard enough. I don’t need Catherine leaving Cynthia and banging down the hospital door or Jamie freaking out.” 

Carrie gives him a soft huff of a laugh. “Alright. Let me get my purse and we can go.” 

Once at the hospital, Mike nods to the night nurses, but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t see any of the class in the waiting room, and assuming they’re not still with Pete, they should be at home. He stops right outside Pete’s room and tries to listen for any voices, but doesn’t hear any. He pushes the door open just a hair, and sees it empty, Pete just lying in the bed staring off into space. 

He turns back and gives Carrie a nod, before pushing the door open further for her to slip past him. He closes the door behind them, but stays near it, so he can run interference if anyone comes to it. As soon as she’s by his side, she sits on the side of the bed and pulls Pete into her arms. 

“Mom,” he cries as he clings to her, and it breaks Mike’s heart even more. Carrie just hugs him tight, her hand running up and down his back and into his hair. 

When Pete has finally exhausted himself of tears, he whispers “I killed him,” effectively tearing both his parents’ hearts out. 

Mike moves across the room at that statement, joining Carrie on the side of the bed. He eases Pete back from her hold and cradles his face. “Look at me son.” 

Pete slowly meets his eyes, unable to ignore the firm demand in Mike’s voice. “You did not kill Nick. You did not kill him. You hear me?” 

“I did though. He was my RIO, my responsibility.” 

“Pete…” 

Carrie cuts him off though, knowing that Pete isn’t going to believe a word of any argument at the moment. She cradles Pete’s cheek and kisses his forehead. “You need to get some sleep sweetheart.” 

“Don’t think I can,” he sighs. He knows he’d fallen asleep on Tom, but it doesn’t feel like he slept long at all before a nightmare gripped him. When he’d woken and been alone, he laid there staring off into space, knowing sleep would be hard to come by. 

“Try. We’ll stay til you’re asleep,” she promises. 

She gets him to ease back against the bed, and softly runs her fingers through his hair. It’s the fastest way to settle Pete; they'd learned the first time the kid hadn’t gotten sick after coming to live with them. She keeps it up until his eyes drift, and even after until he’s deep asleep. 

“He’s going to be ok,” Mike reassures her as they watch him sleep for a few more minutes. They don’t linger long though, despite Carrie wanting to stay.

The next morning, the inquiry information is waiting on Mike the minute he steps on base. He goes through Mav’s file one more time to make sure nothing of their connection is hidden in there, even though he knows the file like the back of his hand. When he’s sure everything is good, he makes the trek over to the base hospital to deliver the news about the inquiry. From here on he knows everything has to be above board until the brass is done sniffing around. 

When he walks into Pete’s room, he’s surprised to see him not there. He has a moment of panic before one of the nurses points him towards the bathroom down the hall. He gives her a nod and heads in. Mav is leaning heavily on the sink, but he somehow managed to shave. Mike catalogs the bruising along his chest and shoulders from his harness that he wasn’t able to see yesterday because of the gown. He knows there’s probably some along his thighs as well, he just can’t see them. He wants so badly to pull his kid into his arms and never let go, but they also have more eyes on them now more than ever. He just has to be careful, not show emotion or favoritism, he keeps reminding himself, and they’ll get through this. He calls on all his years in the service to keep it together as he meets his kids' eyes. He doesn’t like what he sees; Pete’s eyes have always been alive and full of mischief. They always shine and sparkle so bright. But right now, they are dead, lifeless, emotionless, same as yesterday.”How you doing?” he manages to ask.

“I’m alright.” It’s rough and so much quieter than Pete normally talks it throws Mike for a minute. He spins and meets Pete’s eyes in the mirror trying to portray that he has to be a Commander at the moment. 

“Goose is dead.” Internally he winces at how straightforward and harsh he has to be, and he knows the minute Carrie finds out, she is going to be livid. But they all knew when Pete joined up, that a time like this might come, and Pete told him then, as a bright eyed eighteen year old, that he’d never hold it against him. 

“I know.” His eyes drop back to the sink, hand splashing more water onto his face, and Mike can see he’s barely holding it together. He wants to tell him to come home with him, let Carrie mother him to death, but he bites it all back. Seeing her last night is going to have to be enough for now. Pete runs another hand over his face, and takes some deep breaths. Mike recalls words one of his former COs told him after Duke died. At the time he hated it, and he knows Pete is going to hate being told the same thing, but he needs to say it. “You fly jets long enough, something like this happens.” 

“He was my RIO, my responsibility!” It’s an echo of his statement last night and Mike knows the guilt is eating him alive. He knows he’s going to have to work hard to get Pete to let it go, if that will even be possible. He knows Goose was like a brother to him; that Carole and Goose both welcomed Pete into their family. But he can’t see his kid drown in grief, not if he can help it. 

“In my squadron in Vietnam, we lost eight of eighteen aircraft. Ten men. First one dies, you die too. But there will be others. You can count on it. You gotta let him go.” His hand touches his side, draws across his back, offering as much comforting touch as he can in that moment. “You gotta let him go.”  He knows it's harsh, hates the words coming out of his own mouth, but as a Commander, it’s what you’re supposed to say. 

Pete’s eyes are hard as they stare at him despite being red rimmed, but Mike does his best to let it roll off his back. “Your inquiry hearing is scheduled for two days from now at 0800. Jester and I will be there. I don’t see any reasons why you won’t be cleared and can return to finish the program before graduation.” 

Pete doesn’t say anything and won’t meet his eyes again. He walks away even though it kills him too. He passes Tom in the parking lot and he knows he was right about something going on between the two. He gives the Lieutenant a nod, wants to pull him to the side and threaten him if he so much as dares to break Pete in any way. But he knows he can’t, so he keeps walking and just hopes Tom will be able to get through to his kid. 

Tom finds Pete back in his room, trying to dress. “Can I help?” he asks from the doorway. 

Pete gives him a nod and Tom comes over, helping him pull his shirt down. The bruising looks worse today, and his body is stiff and achy. He’s refused anymore pain pills though and just wants to leave. “I saw Viper leaving.” 

“Mmm yea. Stopped by to give me the information for the inquiry hearing.” 

“It wasn’t your fault Pete.” 

“Let’s not. I don’t… I just want to get out of here.” 

Tom bites back all his retorts that Pete needs to talk about this and just gives him a nod. “Carole and Bradley are at the base housing. I can take you there.” 

Pete gives him another nod, and follows Tom out the door. Once in the car, the silence is almost unbearable. “Pete…” Tom starts when they’re in front of the housing, but stops when Pete cuts his eyes at him.  

“Might be best if we just had some space right now. You don’t need messed up in this hearing too.” 

“I have to be there because I was in the air with you.” 

“Better to be safe than sorry.” 

Tom wants to argue, wants to push that Pete doesn’t need to do this or push everyone away, but his own guilt is eating him alive. Thus, he’d do anything Pete asks. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” 

Pete won’t meet his eyes so Tom knows he’s lying. “I just want him back,” Pete says softly before he gets out. He closes the door and doesn’t look back. 

Tom watches him go, his heart breaking, but knowing he will give Pete anything. He watches until Pete is inside the door before driving off. 

[whumpiary]

mate tucker is such a bastard. wtf is wrong with him. i love him so ❤️

Sooooo many things anon 🥰

Have a little thingo from five million years ago I never finished where something New and Different is wrong with him

-

The hotel room they were put up in last night is actually two rooms with a conjoining door. Cass had hardly believed it when Tucker had come back from check in and handed him his own key card for once.

“Yeah, yeah, Merry Christmas,” Tucker had murmured, rolling his eyes at Cass’ momentary surprise. “Still expect you ready to go at 7.30. I’m just not in the mood to listen to you sleep-talk all night.”

So Cass knows better than to test his luck by being late. The second his alarm sounds he’s up and getting dressed, putting on the suit that Tucker had packed for him, pulling his hair back the way Tucker prefers it when they’re on business. He’s mostly successful in ignoring the fact that it’s Christopher’s fingers he’s echoing as he tries to tie his tie. He ends up giving up on it. Tucker usually re-does it for him anyway.

Tucker is always punctual to the point of frustration. Early for being early, unless he’s intentionally aiming for a power play by being a perfect ten minutes late.

So, when Cass knocks on the conjoining door and pushes it open, he’s expecting to see Tucker already ready to go, leaning impatiently on the bench of the little kitchenette, scrolling through his phone and already annoyed that Cass didn’t predict that when he said 7.30 he actually meant 7:15.

Instead he finds Tucker sitting at the table, halfway through a bowl of the granola he packs himself, staring into space. He’s not even fully dressed yet, tie loosely draped around his neck, vest and jacket laid out on the bed. His hair doesn’t even look moussed.

Cass frowns, taking him in with a cursory glance over, “Shit, you look rough. Big night or something?”

Tucker blinks, looking up, seeming to register Cass’ presence for the first time. “What?”

“Big night?”

Tucker blinks at him again, giving no indication that he’s processing what’s being said to him.

Cass deliberately slows his words down, to the point of being annoying. “Did you go out last night?”

“Go where?”

Cass shrugs, “I dunno. Like to a club or something.”

Tucker blinks again, heavy lidded, before pulling a face.

“We’re on business,” is all he says and that more or less seems to be the close of the conversation.

He shakes his head as though to clear it, eats the last couple bites of his granola and then, in a beautifully un-Tucker-like way, lifts the rims of the bowl to his lips to finish the milk.

Cass stands stupidly in the doorway between their rooms, watching. He’s not entirely sure what he’s meant to do here.

“Did I get the wrong time or something?”

“Tucker?”

“I’m fine,” Tucker says, almost automated. Then he blinks, looking up, seeming to register Cass’ presence for the first time. “What did you say?”

Cass jerks a thumb over his shoulder, “It’s 7.30. Don’t we have to go soon?”

“Go where?”

Cass frowns for a moment, blinking a little, “The conference thing?”

Tucker looks over Cass’ shoulder to where he’s pointing, like he’s trying to see through the wall. He sways in his seat. Seems to forget to answer.

“Tuck? You good?”

“What?” he says, an irritated blink as he focuses back on Cass’ face. He waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, you look fine. I said you look fine.”

Cass frowns, on tilt. It’s not usually him who’s the one keeping track of the conversation. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

“Because you’re like three different shades of green and I feel like I’m in Freaky fuckin’ Frida-”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah so you keep saying, but you don’t look-“

“I’m fine, Ace. Shut up,” Tucker snaps as he stands. And then, as if to directly counter what he’s just said, sways for a second. He presses thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. Sniffs. “Let’s jus’…” He takes a step forward and his foot seems to go straight through the carpet. “Oh fuck.“

His head hits the table on his way down to the floor.

[karatekels]

Fresh Start - Day 12 (Part 1)

I had to break Day 12 into 2 parts for my own sanity; I hope you don't mind!

Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9 | Days 10 & 11 (Future updates will be added below!)

---

Day 12 - Afternoon

You are running late the next day as you drive up to Terry’s house. You hear your phone vibrate a second time from within your bag, and you just know that it’s him. Ignoring it, you listen to the car’s GPS, making the last few turns through the glamorous neighbourhood before approaching the gate outside of Terry’s home. Reaching through your window, you hit the buzzer.

“Mr. Silver’s residence. Please state your name and business.”

“Hi Victor! It’s Y/N, your favourite trespasser! I’m here to see Terry,” you announce cheerily. There is no response, but after a moment the gate swings open. Bothering Victor wasn’t as fun when you couldn’t see his reaction.

Driving through the gate, you head up the winding driveway, parking beside Terry’s Ferrari. Hoping that was alright – maybe Victor would get his revenge and have it towed – you hop out of the car with your bag, walking up to the front door.

Before you can knock, it swings open, revealing Terry with a scowl that doesn’t meet his eyes.

“I know I know, I’m late, I’m sorry!” you say apologetically as you walk past him into the front entrance, your voice echoing through the halls. This place was huge; you’d known it would be, but seeing it with your own eyes was another thing entirely. “This place is incredible,” you breathe.

“I’m glad it lives up to your standards,” comes Terry’s reply behind you. You spin around to face him, grinning at him sheepishly, giving him the thumbs up with both hands. He snatches one of your wrists up suddenly, making you flinch reflexively, but all he does is inspect your hand.

“What on earth have you done to your hands, Y/N?” he asks, looking over the collection of bandages decorating your fingers with mild concern.

“Well, you’re to blame for that, actually,” you say, laughing as you tug your arm out of his grip, giving him a brief hug. “They’re from getting your present together.”

“You got me a present?” Terry asks, a slight smile curving his lips that you find incredibly sweet. “What is it, a rabid cat you found on the street?” he jokes, reaching out once again to brush over one of the band-aids with his thumb. You can’t help but squeeze his finger lightly in response.

“Of course you’re getting a present,” you say exasperatedly, rolling your eyes playfully at him. “Granted, it was difficult to come up with something for the man who has everything. What did you think I was doing yesterday?”

“I thought you were buying gifts for people back home,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you.

You smile sheepishly up at him. “I lied,” you announced proudly. “It’s why I was late today too, but hopefully it will all be worth it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“So impatient, Mr. Silver,” you tease, clutching your bag to you protectively. “I believe I was promised the grand tour; you hold up your end of the bargain, and then I’ll see if I even want to give you your present.”

“Well, I’d better put on one hell of a show then, hmm?” he replies, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you into his home.

---

The “grand tour” had gone on for well over two hours; not only was Terry’s home absolutely massive, but he had so much within these walls to show you.  You had spent twenty minutes in the library alone, and would have been content to spend the day there, poring over his collection.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you had said at the time, perhaps a bit more flirtatiously than was wise.

“Of course,” Terry had replied, his eyes twinkling down at you. “If I revealed everything all at once, it would be a lot more difficult to convince you to come back for a visit, now wouldn’t it?”

You hadn’t been able to stop the wide smile that broke out across your face, or the blush in your cheeks, feeling more pleased at his interest in having you back in town than upset at the thought of leaving in the first place.

After managing to get you out of the library, he had led you past the grand staircase that ran through the home – “just bedrooms and bathrooms on the third floor, nothing special” – to show you his office, a solarium filled with plants that took your breath away, and the wing of the house dedicated to his personal dojo and collection of Japanese artifacts. You had tried to convince him to show you some karate, but he refused, saying he drew the line at making a spectacle of himself. Like he wasn’t already a wonder to behold…

The first floor had also been a surprise; while obviously very opulent, it was also very warm and comfortable, including a beautiful kitchen, living room with a home theatre system (he had made sure to point out the original painting he had told you about in the museum, sending you both into a spirited debate about the value of owning originals again), and dining room. It felt lived in and happy, and you were glad for that – this was such a big space to live in alone (aside from the staff); you were grateful that it felt cozy for him.

 Finally, he led you outside, through his expansive gardens which you immediately loved more than the ones you had visited with him the other day, his outdoor pool and hot tub, and then around the corner, to the path that led to the beachfront; the place where you had first met, not even ten days ago. You can hear the waves crashing against the sand in the distance as you turn to face him, his expression telling you that he was likely thinking the same thing as you were.

“It seems like so much longer than nine days since we were here last,” you comment quietly, looking up at him with a shy smile. You can’t think of another time in your life when you had gotten so close to someone so fast, but with Terry the pacing just felt natural.

“I still haven’t thanked Victor for his persistence,” Terry quips, chuckling softly. “If he hadn’t bothered reading you the Riot Act, we never would have met.”

“We truly owe him a lifetime of gratitude for manhandling me,” you giggle, before biting your lip nervously. “Well, I guess it’s appropriate to give you your gift here, then.”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a large square of canvas folded in half, and hand it to him.

“TA-DA!” you exclaim with a flourish, and he gives you an amused quirk of his lips.

“What’s this?” he asks, looking down at the fabric.

“Your present,” you answer him patiently, trying not to bounce on your toes in anticipation. You really hope he likes it…

Terry unfolds the fabric, revealing an embroidery of two white flowers, their stems twined around one another. Across the top, the scientific name, yerba mansa, is written in thread, while below, its common name, lizard’s tail, is scrawled to match.

“I took apart my already-ruined tote bag, a hotel linen napkin, and three articles of clothing!” you announce, oddly proud of your own creativity and resourcefulness. “It took a long time to get it just right – I tried to copy it exactly from the book you gave me, so it’s kind of something we can share even when I’m back home!”

Terry is frozen in place, staring at the embroidery without blinking. You feel nervous, and keep explaining.

“I was looking through the book yesterday, and this is one of the plants that they had around the Teahouse. The common name is lizard’s tail, which made me think of you telling me about Cobra Kai – I know it’s not exactly the same, but I didn’t find any plants named after snakes that seemed as symbolic as this one…” you joke, trailing off when Terry still hasn’t moved.

You try to let the silence stretch, hoping he’ll be the one to break it, but he doesn’t, still seemingly transfixed. You bite your lip.

“Okay look, you don’t like it. I get it, it’s silly. It would look better if I’d had more time, and supplies, and –”

“It’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” he interrupts you in an oddly hoarse voice.

And then his lips are on yours.

--- Terry’s POV ---

He had thought he had planned everything out to the letter, but once again he had underestimated your tendency to throw a wrench in his plans. As the clock kept ticking after noon, he became more and more nervous; he knew you hadn’t blown him off or forgotten – you were too kind and loyal for that – which made him worry that something had happened to you. He fires off a couple of texts to you to check in, but they go unread and unanswered until finally he gets the notification through the security app on his phone that someone has been let through the gate, and lets out a relieved sigh, knowing that you are here and safe. He immediately notices the bandages covering your hands, checking them over with concern and a deep desire to finally touch you again. Your explanation of the injuries being from working on a gift for him entertains him, his curiosity piqued at what sort of thing you had acquired for him. At your bratty insistence, figuratively holding his gift over your head, he takes you through his home, taking you in at every opportunity. You looked at home here, like you belonged, like he had lived his life and built up this house with you in mind years before he ever met you.

Eventually you make your way outside, through the garden and to the path to the beachfront where he had first spotted you, only days ago. This was where he would make his confession, and do everything in his power to persuade you to stay here with him, just for eternity, please.

Before he can, you insist on giving him your gift. Of course, he acquiesces; he didn’t think he could refrain from giving you anything you wanted. You hand him a piece of fabric, clearly excited about it, and he recognizes it as being the same material from your old bag. Unfolding it, he takes in the image you have made, and your words about how it would tie the two of you together, and finds it difficult to remember how to breathe.

You had made this with your own hands, using your own clothing (something Terry found incredibly intimate), pricking yourself countless times (if the number of bandages decorating your fingers was any indication) with a needle in your haste to give him a token to remember you by, stitching together a memory of your time with him… stitching your story together into a beautiful image that he knew he would cherish until the end of his days.

Something primal burns fiercely within Terry as he takes in your gift, his heart thudding painfully from the emotions raging within him. He had planned on confessing to you here, the place where you had met, but once again you had gotten the jump on him, pouring your own heart out first through the presentation of your gift. It was clear to him that you shared his feelings; there was no need for words now.

Distantly, he recognizes that you are feeling anxious and self-conscious, hearing you mumble some nonsense about him not liking your gift (as if that were a possibility), and his eyes dart over to you, taking in your concave form as your shoulders hunch in on themselves. You silly, silly girl.

“It’s the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me,” Terry admits to you, for once letting the depth of his devotion carry over into his voice; you have him completely at your mercy, at you don’t even seem to recognize it. Your head lifts, seemingly startled by his tone, or his words, or both; it didn’t matter. It was finally time.

He turns to you, reaching down to caress the side of your face and bends to claim your lips with his own. You gasp against his mouth before he feels your dainty hands grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him down closer to you, kissing him back in a way that has his heart soaring. The fire and passion that you regularly let burst out of you on a whim flows through your lips into the kiss, making him wonder if you loved him as much as he adored you.

Eagerly, he slides his hand from the side of your face to tangle in your hair at the back of your head, the way he had been aching to for what seemed like forever, his other hand coming around your waist, clutching you to him and lifting you onto your toes. You let out a whimper that nearly has him throwing you over his shoulder to take you inside, but he resists, wanting to savour the moment he had been hoping for since he had met you.

He runs his tongue along your lower lip, teasing the spot that you liked to bite when you were nervous or worried about something, and you deepen the kiss, stroking his tongue with your own and sliding your hands up his chest to twine around his neck.

As always, you seem incapable of going without teasing him, testing his control, and he sees no need to restrain himself any further. Sliding his hands down to your hips, Terry lifts you up easily, his hands supporting you with a firm grip on your thighs. You cling to him for support, your legs coming around his waist like they were made to be there, and he growls possessively, walking you both towards the stairs, kissing you desperately without pausing for breath.

“No, wait,” you say, breaking the kiss and squirming out of his grip, your feet back on the ground once more as you throw your arms out towards him. Terry allows you to move back a couple of steps, though he isn’t sure how long he can keep himself from grabbing hold of you again as he observes the way that you’re panting for breath through your kiss-swollen lips. Christ, you were beautiful.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, we don’t need to rush this,” he purrs soothingly, stepping towards you.

“Terry, no. We can’t do this,” you insist, your body turning in on itself again, like you were trying to shrink yourself down to escape his gaze. As if it was possible for him to overlook you.

“We can, we should, we will,” he croons passionately, trying to close the distance between you while you back away from him until your back hits a tree. He takes the opportunity to cage you against it with his arms, his forehead resting on yours. “I don’t know why we waited so long, but there’s still time to make up for it,” he says softly, gently taking your chin in one hand and tilting your face up to look at him. You shudder.

“We don’t have time, Terry!” you cry out, though your voice is still soft. “I leave in two days!”

“So stay,” he murmurs, looking deeply into your eyes. It would be no problem; on the contrary, it would be the ideal situation. He would keep you here in his home until it was your home as well. He would take care of everything.

“I can’t!” Your breathing is becoming frantic, like you’re starting to hyperventilate. But what could you possibly be scared of?

“Of course you can, my dear. We were meant to be.”

“I can’t just up and leave home, Terry, it’s crazy. We barely know each other.”

Well, that was hardly true. He was still trying to understand all of your strange, unpredictable eccentricities, but that was what the future was for. And you already knew him better than anyone else did.

“We know enough,” he insists, his thumbs wiping away your tears as they spill over. He understands that this must be overwhelming for you and tries his best to console you. “I’ve known enough for awhile now, and I think you have too. I know it’s crazy, Y/N, and scary, and fast, but you know this is right. I know you do.”

“I have to go,” you say decisively, your voice suddenly clear and determined as you slip under his arm and make for the stairs. He catches your hand before you can get away, keeping you in place. You couldn’t leave; it wasn’t part of the plan, Terry thinks, his heart somehow sinking into his stomach and rising to catch in his throat all at once as he starts to panic.

“We can figure this out together,” he whispers, desperation evident in his voice. His eyes scan your body, looking for any sign of your faltering resolve that he could cling to.

“Please let me go, Terry,” you breathe brokenly through your tears. “I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

He releases your hand as if you’ve burned him; something about you crying and begging him to let you go has sent a jolt through his system. You back up to the stairs, your expression pained and surprised, as if you thought he was going to keep you prisoner here or something. And why wasn’t he? You were clearly confused, you just needed some time to sit with the situation and think things over, clearly…

He watches you scramble up the stairs and out of sight, unsure of why he can’t seem to force his body to move, to go after you.

You don’t come back, and Victor finds him sitting on the stairs some time later, holding onto a scrap of embroidered fabric for dear life.

---

(I'm so sorry; this hurt me more than it hurt you)

Day 12-B | Day 13-A | Day 13-B | Day 13-C | Day 14-A | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Ribbons and Rainstorms

Chapter 4 : Temple of Chores

----

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----

Roman kept going back.

It wasn't hard to keep going back. Not in the slightest, especially during storms when Vi was there. 

Even when Vi wasn't there, Roman found himself more drawn to the temple than he had been before. He had done a fair bit of cleaning, dusting off nooks and crannies (though trying his best to leave the spiderwebs in the corners undisturbed since Vi had expressed his fondness for them).

At the market he had bought some new blankets and pillows to take over and leave there so that he wouldn't have to ferry them back and forth every time there was a storm and risk them getting wet. He had spent almost an entire day gathering and stockpiling inside the temple as much firewood as he could find so that it could dry out. He’d bought more embroidery supplies since Vi had started teaching him too. Some of them stayed in his bedroom, stocking up for a project he was currently just planning out on paper, others he brought to the temple to use for their lessons. 

He spent so much time at the temple, that people actually started to notice. 

—-

"You're late." Came the scornful voice of his mentor, the person who oversaw all his training as a Protector, as Roman stumbled into the arena, clothes a mess and still pulling on his second boot, "Roman Edevane, If you are not taking this seriously enough to consider being on time—"

"I am so sorry Master Pryce, I just— I was busy and I lost track of time— I swear it won't happen again," Roman said, trying in an earnest tone. 

"This the third time in the last two weeks," She said, glaring at him, "Let me guess, the Storm Temple, again?"

"Yes ma'am," Roman said, nodding, "I was sweeping the floors today." 

“I’m glad you’re so dedicated,” She said, smiling a little, “But you really can’t keep being late for training like this, have you been practising since last week?”

“Indeed I have!” Roman grinned, standing up a little straighter, “And I’ll try not to be late, in future.”

"Good." She said with a nod, "Now that you’re here, let's get on with this training session, shall we? You know the warm up, hop to it." 

—-

"Roman, sir," One of the two servants they hired — Immy — said, stopping him on the staircase, "You're not going to come home caked in mud again, are you? You know, if Nessy and I have to wash the same set of your clothes every day for much longer they're going to fall apart." 

Roman winced in sympathy, he really did feel bad most of the time about all the extra work he seemed to always put both of them through. 

"I'm sorry," Roman said, taking a deep breath, "I'm almost done with what I've been working on now, so there shouldn't be much more mud." 

"Oh good," Immy said with a sigh of relief, "If I may inquire, what exactly is the task you’ve been doing to get yourself so dirty all the time?”

Roman paused, before sighing, “I’ve been attempting to clear more of a path from our gardens to the Storm Temple up on the hill so it doesn’t take quite as long for me to get up there.”

“I thought there was already a path?” Immy asked, shifting her grip on the laundry basket she carried.

“There is,” Roman nodded, “But it’s been overgrown and full of debris for years now and doesn’t go directly from the house, which was fine to worry about transversing when I only went a few times a month, but…”

“I see,” She nodded, “Well, good luck with that, Sir Roman, and please try not to get so dirty?”

“I’ll do my best,” Roman said grinning as he hurried down the stairs.

—-

"Roman!" His Ma called from downstairs, Roman shot up from where he sat on his bedroom floor, he dropped his needle and thread onto the fabric he was working on and stood up, rushing towards the stairs to call back.

“What is it?”

“Get down here,” She yelled, “I don’t want to yell through the house!”

Roman rolled his eyes with a sigh before scrambling down the stairs to the hallway where Taz stood, waiting impatiently with her hand on her hip. 

“Yes, ma?” Roman asked, wondering if she was mad at him for some reason, but that couldn’t be right, could it? He hadn’t exactly done anything.

“Wonderful, I need you to make some deliveries around town,” She said, Roman sighed. So he wasn’t in trouble, he wasn’t sure if this turn of events was any better though, he was busy with his project!

“Yes, Ma,” he said anyway, because no matter his projects Roman would probably do anything for his mother, even if he didn’t always show it.

“Good!” She smiled, “I’ve been doing a lot of baking, it’s all packed up and labelled so you can set off as soon as you’re ready.”

Roman nodded, reaching to grab his boots from the cabinet next to the stairs, he pulled them on and moved to retrieve the baskets from the kitchen. He hadn’t run deliveries in a long while, but Roman still knew the routine like the back of his hand. Maybe whilst he was out as well he could take a quick detour to grab a few things for the temple too, he’d been meaning to get a broom he could leave down there since the late fall leaves kept being blown in and he was annoyed at them clinging to his blankets. 

He might even have time to deliver them if he was quick… 

“Oh, and Roman?” Taz said, pulling him away from his train of thought, she had a serious look in her eyes, “No detours.”

“Oh but Ma—" Roman huffed, it was like she could read his mind!

“No, sweetheart, you’ve been spending all your free time these last few weeks either in your room working on that massive piece of fabric for heaven knows what, or at that abandoned old temple, I’ve barely seen you! Which is why I’m cooking dinner tonight and I’d like us to spend some time together.”

Roman sighed, not protesting because… well that was fair, he had been spending a lot of time working on his most recent embroidery project — Vi had given him a few lessons since they had talked and he was really starting to pick it up quickly — or working on his current mission of making the temple into a second home. She was right, they had spent hardly as much time together as of late than they had in the past. He probably owed an afternoon and evening to her and besides, he could get the broom another time. 

“I’ll be back as quickly as I can,” Roman promised, “No detours.”

—-

“You’re here every time,” Vi said one day, this time the storm was bad enough and the weather cold enough that Roman had bundled himself up in blankets and taken up refuge behind the altar where he’d built a small fire. He’d end up stinking of smoke by the time the storm was over he knew, but it was worth it for the warmth. Vi had immediately come and sat down next to him when they arrived and took out a few twines of thread that he seemed to be content with twisting around his fingers to form patterns. 

“So are you,” Roman countered, because it was true, there wasn’t a single time Roman had come here during a storm yet that Vi hadn’t appeared for. 

Vi hummed, considering the statement for a moment before shrugging, “Only because you are.”

“I don’t believe that.” Roman huffed, looking down at the embroidery he was supposed to be practising with. In all honesty, he had gotten entirely distracted.

“Why not?” Vi asked, sounding genuinely confused, “Your company is pleasant.”

“Surely you have better things to do than sitting in silence watching me struggle to embroider.” Roman said, voice deadpan, lifting the barely started embroidery in his hands. 

Vi shrugged with an awkward smile, “Not really.”

“You’re serious?” Roman asked, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. It’s not like people hadn’t wanted his company before, but it was a little different when that person was a deity, someone who could go anywhere, talk to anyone. Roman had no doubt that Vi could easily do better than him.

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t,” Vi huffed, “I like sitting with you, here.”

“Wha— oh!” Roman said, tensing as Vi reached over without warning and took his hand, turning it over and placing something in his palm quickly before letting go again. Roman took a deep breath before investigating what Vi had given him.

…a ribbon?

It was a dark, vibrant red and a little thicker than the ribbons that they usually used for hair ties. With what looked like the same silver thread that had been used on the handkerchief, a pattern was embroidered and when Roman looked closer he realised it was a mirror of the pattern he had embroidered onto the ribbon he’d given Vi. The fabric was almost heavy and unbelievably soft and when Roman moved it, it caught the light from the fire in a way he wasn’t sure fabric normally did. 

“You told me that to accept the ribbon you usually give one back,” Vi said, watching him inspect it, “So I made one for you, too.”

Roman smiled, a vaguely irrational part of him wanted to lean over and pull Vi into a hug, because this ribbon was beautiful and oh goodness he didn’t deserve this. 

“Thank you,” Roman said instead of voicing that last thought, “It’s lovely.”

There was a minute of silence between them where Roman held the ribbon, wondering if he should put it into his hair now or if… maybe…

“May I?” Vi asked eventually, gesturing to the ribbon and Roman barely restrained himself from jolting in surprise. Was Vi really offering? “You did mine, after all.”

Roman took a deep breath and nodded, offering the ribbon back, not trusting his voice. 

“I’m going to tie it around your bun,” Vi told him, taking the ribbon back. Roman nodded again, turning his head so that Vi could reach easier. The ribbon was long enough that even when tied the tails brushed his shoulders and Roman found himself grinning at the mere idea that he’d really been given a friendship ribbon by someone like Vi.

“Thank you,” Roman said, “Really, this is, I— it’s— I mean, it’s beautiful, is what I’m trying to say, I— um— I really appreciate it.”

Vi chuckled, looking back at Roman with a smile on his face that reached his eyes, Roman realised that the markings on their face had lightened multiple shades, now looking almost magenta instead of their usual black, Roman couldn’t help but smile back. 

“You’re welcome.” Vi told him, and Roman realised quite abruptly how genuine they sounded.

----

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[iamfruitie]

Kinktober Day 31: Orgy

Day 31: Orgy 

Ships involved: Darkstache/Bingle/Trickshot

Dark sat at the head of the table with the others looking at him. Bing and Google to his left and Marvin and Chase to his right. A wooden box was on the table in the middle of all of them. They had all discussed and planned a fun event for all of them to share and were just waiting for one more person to join them. The windowed wall of the room had black curtains covering them, one of the two doors was locked, and the room was already fairly soundproofed but would be completely blocked out when the missing person arrived. 

“Sorry, I’m late. I had a little mess in the studio to clean up,” Wilford said with a laugh as he came into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. “You didn’t start anything without me, right?” He added on his way to stand next to Dark. 

“Of course not. We couldn’t do anything without you.” Dark had a playful glint in his eyes and adjusted his posture to formally address the others. “Now, before we begin, one final check. We are all aware and prepared for what we wish to do?”

“Yep!” Bing popped the ‘p’ while Google nodded. 

“As ready as we can be.” Chase chuckled as Marvin giggled his own agreement. 

“Good. Everything extra you will need is in the box.” Dark gestured to the wooden box. “I’d suggest getting them out now to ensure it’s within arms reach. We all know how…effective the aura can be, and I believe having it closer will be much easier for us.” He wasn’t shocked when Wilford went into the box right away and pulled out the bottles of lube, giving each duo one. They were all brand new, and the seals were broken that morning during preparations. Dark looked to Bing and Google. “I’m aware that your bodies function differently than ours, and you normally don’t need an outside source of lubrication, but I figured it was better safe than sorry since the aura sometimes affects that aspect of you and sometimes doesn’t.” 

“My ass thanks you already.” Bing laughed. 

“Precautions are always welcome,” Google stated, looking at the bottle a bit closer. 

“So, when we’re all good and ready, you’ll just put your aura out into the air, and it’ll kick in an aphrodisiac effect?” Marvin asked, knowing everything already but wanting to do one more check. 

“In a sense, yes,” Dark confirmed. “There’s a lot more complication behind it, but to save us a multi-day lecture, we’ll phrase it like that.” 

“Fuck us up, Dark.” Chase chuckled. “Or, well…something of that sort.” 

“I’d suggest removing our clothing first to ensure they don’t get damaged. Some of us aren’t the most gentle when impatient.” He shot a quick look over to Wilford, who laughed as he slipped off his suspenders.

“You say that like we can’t just buy new stuff.” Wilford worked on the buttons of his shirt. 

“When half of our budget is targeted at clothing, there’s a problem,” Dark stated, standing so that he could remove his blazer. 

“Naked time.” Bing joked to himself, pulling off his shirt and tossing it aside. Google softly chuckled as he took his own shirt off, laying it down on the table. Chase and Marvin both shrugged and went about removing their clothing as well. Soon they were all standing there bare and waiting. 

“Ready?” Dark asked, getting a variety of ‘yes’, ‘yep’, and head nods. “Let’s begin.” He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and when he opened his eyes back up and exhaled; a black smoke-like fog started to come out of him. 

“That’s cool as fuck.” Bing said as the fog started heading over to everyone in the room, starting at their feet and slowly making its way up their bodies. The fog continued to go up, slowly getting into them with each breath they took, and with each passing second, it affected them more and more. 

“Damn~” Chase half moaned, leaning a hand against the table. “That shit is strong.” 

“Chase~” Marvin panted out, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a kiss. 

“That’s…a lot.” Google breathed heavily as he sat down in a chair. “Bing are you-” He didn’t get to finish his question of ‘are you affected’ before Bing was in his lap and kissing him deeply. 

Marvin giggled as Chase lifted him by the hips to sit on the table. He tilted his head and softly moaned at the little bites Chase trailed along his neck, each scraping of his teeth sending a stronger shiver down his back. He could feel the aura moving through him, relaxing his body while also stirring the arousal to the point that he was leaking precum from just kissing Chase. 

“Chase, Chase honey, get the lube.” Marvin pleaded. 

“G-Googs.” Bing panted out as Google groped at his ass, squeezing and tugging as he nipped at Bing’s collarbone. “Google, Google please.” He whined as his body’s self-lubrication slowly dripped down his thighs. “Please, Google, please.” 

“Do you want the lube?” Google could feel the self-lubrication, the most Bing had made in a long time, but he still wanted to be sure, even in his lust-filled haze. 

“I’m good. I want you. I need you. Please, Googs.” Bing started grinding his hips down, feeling Google’s cock rubbing against him. 

“Oh God~” Marvin moaned loudly, laying down on the table with his legs tucked up and three of Chase’s fingers inside of him. “Faster, faster, faster please.” He placed a hand on the back of Chase’s head when he leaned over him and started sucking and biting at his chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum already~”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop~” Bing moaned, hips still going as Google’s hand was quickly stroking him. Google moaned lowly into Bing’s ear, rutting his hips against him as he made sure his cock  was fully coated with the self-lubrication. He was unable to stop himself as he got close to cumming from just this and with how Bing’s breathing was, he knew he also wasn’t too far off. 

“I think your stuff worked on them very well,” Wilford said with a little chuckle, watching the four barely be able to control themselves. He knew himself and Dark were affected by the aura as well, but having played with it a few times themselves made it easier to not break. They were not immune to it as their erections showed. 

“As do I,” Dark said, voice calm and flat but his breath did hitch a little when Wilford wrapped an arm around his waist and he started kissing at his neck. 

“I think we’ve watched long enough. Shall we join the fun?” Wilford grinned when Dark tilted his head and leaned back against him. 

“Yes.” Dark agreed with a little roll of his hips. 

“I bet you’re loving the sounds of the others, aren’t you?” Wilford whispered his tease right into Dark’s ear, his hands going to Dark’s chest. “You’ve always loved voices.” He started pinching at Dark’s nipples, chuckling when he got a gasp in response

“Oh, Chase!” Marvin cried out when he came, tugging Chase’s hair a little. “Fuck me, fuck me, please~!” 

“Google~” Bing moaned when he was cumming as well, getting a bite on his neck when Google came all over his ass. 

“Fuck.” Dark rolled his eyes back at hearing all of that, the pleasure sending a shiver down his spine as he felt Wilford grinding against him and was still playing with his nipples. 

“Such a good idea you had.” Wilford praised, guiding Dark to lean over the table. Dark moved his hands to press them against the top of it. “I love when you get creative.” Wilford grabbed the bottle of lube, popping it open and turning it over. He licked at his lips as he watched the lube go down the bottom of Dark’s back and run its way down to his ass. The way Dark shivered from that cold feeling added to the fun of it. “Let’s get your first one done just as fast as them.” 

Wilford and Dark both knew that after cumming three or four times, Dark couldn’t really control his aura anymore, the effects of it fading away. There have been times when they’ll keep going from natural libido, but Wilford assumed that by the time he got that many out of Dark, the other two duos were going to need a break and were unlikely to be able to continue after. 

“Wil~” Dark gripped the edge of the table when Wilford pushed a finger into him, his whole body very, very sensitive from everything he was doing with his aura. 

“I bet I could so easily make you cum from just my fingers,” Wilford said as he got right to curling and thrusting his finger.

“More, please.” Dark wasn't one to beg but Wilford was the only one that could get him like that oh-so-easily. 

“Of course.” Wilford put another finger into Dark and moved his hand so he was properly fucking Dark with his them. 

“Sh-Shit.” Dark cursed under his breath, back arching slightly. Wilford was far from wrong when he said he could get him to cum from his fingers with how worked up he was. Hell, he might not last much longer already. “Shit, Wilford, I’m-” 

“Do it.” Wilford knew exactly what Dark was going to say and made sure to work his fingers in a way that years of them being together had taught him would drive Dark over the edge right then and there. 

“Wil~!” Dark gasped out when that did the trick, getting him to cum in record time. 

“Good boy.” Wilford praised with a little growl in his voice, fingers still moving to have Dark ride out that high as long as possible. When a little whimper came out of Dark, Wilford pulled his hand away, kissing at the center of his shoulder blades. “Ready for me to fuck you?” 

“Yes, very, very much so.” Dark panted out.

“Ch-Chase~” Marvin moaned, still lying on the table beautifully. His arms were up and his hands were framing his face. One of his legs was held and pressed towards him by Chase, who was thrusting hard into him, and moaning as well between each sharp movement. Chase had one hand against the table and the other was holding Marvin’s thigh, squeezing away at the plushness. The red marks he was leaving behind showed that he was loving the feel of it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck~” Bing was rambling, arms wrapped tightly around Google as he bounced on his cock. Google held Bing’s hips tightly and was helping pull bing down, his own hips rocking up to meet Bing’s. There were teeth marks all over Bing’s shoulder and neck. Google biting down on Bing again to muffle his moan proved exactly where they were coming from. The synthetic skin was likely to keep those marks for a good while after everything was said and done. 

“Think you can give them some more? Let them feel all that your aura can give?” Wilford asked as he got more lube and was stroking himself with it. He was taking his sweet time and teasing himself a bit while using his free hand to slowly drag the tips of his fingernails down the center of Dark’s back, watching him shiver and twitch. Dark only nodded before going still for a breath.

The fog thickened, going pitch black and preventing anyone from seeing the floor anymore. The fog became tendril-like and snaked its way up everyone’s bodies; grazing across their skin like Wilford’s nails had and dispersing back into a fog to be inhaled. There was a pause, the others going still as well and then they all let out loud moans as everything started to become more sensitive. 

“Good boy.” Wilford chuckled as he leaned over Dark, pressing a hand against the table next to him as he slowly pushed his cock in. 

“Oh, Wil~” Dark groaned out. It never mattered how many times the two of them had been together; Wilford always felt so thick and full inside of him, making Dark almost go dumb with lust. 

“You always feel so perfect, Darkling.” Wilford praised some more as he fully bottomed out, holding himself there for a moment as he gently nipped at the back of Dark’s neck. “Like you were made for me~” 

“Fuck, Wilford, please.” Dark took a small step to spread his legs further apart, rocking his hips a bit to grind against Wilford. “Please, fuck me.” He leaned down more across the table, resting his forearms against the wooden surface. 

“Since you asked so nicely~” Wilford softly chuckled, using his other hand to grip Dark’s hip as he pressed his chest firmly to Dark’s back. He started to thrust, going slow and shallow at first, grinning when Dark made a whine of protest at that. Wilford chuckled again, this time much deeper and he kissed the bottom of Dark’s ear before whispering into it. “I bet you’d cum so fast if I fuck you the way you want. If I treat you like a cheap toy and rail you across this table while the others get to hear you moan for me.” 

“God, Wilford, fucking, please.” Dark started trying to fuck himself back on Wilford, barely able to do so with the hold Wilford had on his hip and the way his weight was on him. 

“You can hear them, too, can’t you?” Wilford continued to tease while also giving Dark a little of what he wanted, hips bucking just a bit faster as he spoke. “You can hear all of their lovely sounds, the way you’re making them feel even better with that entrancing power of yours.” As if on cue, Bing’s moan rang out loudly amongst the others, drowning out the other sounds of slapping skin and grunts. “I think Bing just got even more cum on him and dear ol’ Google. Such a mess we’re going to make of this room.” 

“Oh, yes, yes, yes~” Dark moaned out his agreement, laying himself flat against the table as Wilford fully gave it to him. He was thankful that the table was as sturdy as it was or it’d be sliding away from them with each strong thrust from Wilford. 

“Such a mess,” Wilford grunted, moving to grab Dark’s shoulder and now using his rough, powerful hands to pull Dark back to him. He thrived from the sight of Dark bouncing against him; how he took his cock so well, it was something he could look at for the rest of his life. “Oh, shit~” Wilford groaned, realizing that everything was affecting him as well. “I’m going to cum, Darkling. Are you ready for me?” Dark only answered with a nod and moan. That was enough for Wilford to tighten his hold on Dark’s shoulder and hip even more, pushing in as deep as he could and cumming with another, lower groan. Dark felt that flood of warmth and his eyes rolled back as that was enough to get him to cum once more. He had only a moment to catch his breath before Wilford went right back to fucking him. 

“F-Fuck, fuck~” Dark nearly cracked the table. Wilford’s hand moved from his shoulder to around his neck, pulling him up so they were both fully standing. 

“Look at what you’ve done, Darkling, look at all of this~” Wilford spoke into Dark’s ear again, holding Dark’s throat and gripping his thigh, bucking into him with no restraint. “Look at how you’ve turned them all into horny little messes.” 

Marvin and Bing were both clawing at Chase and Google as they were fucked mercilessly. 

Bing was no longer moving himself; only able to cling to Google’s neck desperately as his hips were held and he was pulled down into each thrust, being fucked into like a fleshlight. Google’s lips were also pressed to Bing’s ear, clearly whispering something to Bing and those words got more sounds out of Bing.  

Marvin was practically bent in half on top of the table, Chase kneeling on it as well. Chase had a hold on Marvin’s legs and had his knees almost next to his head as he used gravity to help him fuck down into Marvin as hard as they could ever want. Marvin cried out at each thrust, loving every bit of movement. His hands were holding Chase’s shoulders, manicured nails digging into Chase, leaving bright red lines in the pale skin. 

“Such messes~” Wilford growled with approval at the scene in front of them. “They’ll need to finish up soon, won’t they?” He slid his hand across Dark’s thigh before wrapping it around his very neglected cock. “I think once more would do all of us good.” 

“One-One more.” Dark panted out in agreement, his own hands holding Wilford’s wrists as he watched the other two duos wreck each other. “Fuck~” He cursed when Wilford started moving his hand to match his hips. 

“Let’s see how well we can all time this.” Wilford made sure his grip was just right on Dark’s neck to get that extra little rush in his head as his aura started coming off of him. It appeared as a pink cloud that floated in the air and covered the room with a thick scent of cotton candy. As that fog was inhaled as well, the moans got even louder and Wilford was now controlling the pleasure they felt, cranking it to match the level Dark was at. He waited a few moments, chasing after his own pleasure until he knew it was time. “Darkling~” Wilford sang to Dark. “I need you to cum for me. I need you to cum~” 

“Wil~!” Dark cried out and did as he was told, cumming hard enough that his aura disappeared completely, leaving only Wilford’s in the air. Only a second passed before those loud moans turned into matching cries, all four of the others in the room cumming at the same time. Wilford felt all of the sounds go through him and he lasted a few more thrusts before he was grunting and cumming inside of Dark again; the pink aura fading away. 

There was a long minute of the only sound in the room being heavy breathing, all of them panting as they were swimming in the afterglow, of the bliss of everything that they did. 

Wilford reached back and grabbed a chair so he could sit, pulling Dark down to sit on his lap. He made sure Dark was laying back against him fully before his hands started massaging his lower back. Dark turned his face and tucked it into the crook of Wilford’s neck, slowly getting his breathing back to normal. 

Google gently guided Bing up so he could pull out, lowering him back down and letting him fully relax on top of him. He ran his hands up and down Bing’s back, whispering praise as he went. Bing shivered a little at the words and nuzzled against Google, pressing kisses to his neck and upper chest. 

Chase pulled out with a soft breath, lowering Marvin’s legs and scooping him up bridal style to have them sit in one of the chairs as well. He rubbed and massaged Marvin’s thighs and held him up and against him, kissing the top of his head. Marvin softly giggled, rubbing his face against Chase’s chest almost cat-like. 

“Seems like this turned out even better than we thought,” Wilford said with a chuckle. 

“Just a bit.” Dark hummed with a soft smile. 

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@takethepainawaybae