#I seriously should have kept count at this point cause this is fucking RIDICULOUS

[aemonds-sapphire]

Caution: Slippery When Wet — Dabi x Reader (Smut)

Summary: Dabi just wanted to take a shower, and he didn’t care that you were in the way.

Warnings: NSFW. Orgasm denial. Overstimulation. Vaginal fingering. Quirkplay. Unprotected sex. Praise. Creampie.

Word count: 3.6k

A sudden loud bang snapped you out of your steam-induced daydream and had your heart skip a few beats in distress.

“What?!” you gnarled, eyes gazing through the foggy shower door only to be met with a pair of turquoise eyes.

Dabi.

“You done in there or what?”

Panic filled your entire body at once. “Get the fuck out!”

Any indication that you might be blessed with a peaceful shower session soon flew out the window as the young villain showed no intention of budging.

Thoughts on Dabi? You’d rather not have any. And not because you loathed him. Far from that Your body made sure that the most hostile emotion you had towards him was unquestionable sexual tension. Therefore, you really, really needed to train your mind not to fixate on him or the possibilities that might come from any interaction with him. In order to cope with this, you tried your best to mask your genuine feelings with resentment.

On the off chance your paths crossed while living together with the rest of the league, you always had your mind set on antagonizing him. You dreaded the possibility of anyone figuring out that — albeit buried deep within you —, you craved him.

“Not happening. I need a shower.”

Sliding the glass door, you peaked your head through the narrow slit only to be met with Dabi covered in... slime? From his dark hair all the way down to his boots.

“What is that awful smell?” you grimaced as the foul stench filled your nose.

“Collateral damage,” he said with a blank expression, eyes on yours. “You can thank Toga for that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Go wait outside. I’m almost done here.”

No answer.

“Out!” Yyou half-yelled, feeling heat creep through your cheeks, thoroughly glad that the fog glazing the shower door kept most of your body hidden from his gaze.

No answer yet again.

“Dabi!”

He shrugged and proceeded to remove his knee-length coat showing no concern that you were intensely staring at him, mouth agape in shock.

His filthy shirt went off next, revealing the uneven edges of his staple-covered skin across his upper chest. Your heart was racing at double speed and all your brain could conjure was that you most definitely should not allow your eyes to roam across his body like that. Dabi was too fucking hot — pun fully intended— for his own good, and suspected he knew that

That proved to be enough to snap you out of your trance. “Why are you taking your clothes off?!” Yyou blurted out, failing to realize how ridiculous that sounded given the context.

Dabi paused briefly as he was about to undo his belt. “Not showering with my clothes on... the fuck?” he remarked, arching a brow and glaring at you like you’d grown a third arm.

Panic hit you instantly. “Uh—Just wait!”

His slender fingers unbuckled the belt swiftly. “Doll, you’re wasting time. All that rambling and staring... could be done already.”

He was not wrong.

It suddenly dawned on you how easily he’d always manage to crawl under your skin. Whether he knew the effect he had on you or not, it remained unclear. But something inside you clung to the idea that, whatever it was that you felt for Dabi, it was somehow reciprocated.

Patches of suds began trailing down your temples and forehead, causing further distress.

“Just...” your voice trailed off, but sudden outrage burst from within you. “Don’t you have some decency?”

“No.”

He had managed to strip all of his clothes off until he was only left in his underwear, and he was about to—

“No! No fucking way!” you shrieked in dread, quickly having to wipe a few suds that were stinging your eyes. “Leave it—“

But before you could mouth further protests, you saw him yank his underwear down, which caused your eyes to reflexively close tightly.

A low chuckle was heard. “Calm down, princess. I won’t even look. Just wanna rinse off this slime.”

You were positively mortified from all this mess, and a large part of you cheered in pride as you managed to kept your feelings towards him out of the way.

For now, at least.

Immediately, you withdrew your head from the rack, and shoved the shower door shut, with one hand keeping it in place while the other reached out to grab a bottle from the corner shelf.

Dabi tugged at the door a few times before sighing. “Seriously? You gonna throw a... bottle of shampoo at me?” he drawled out, a slight hint of amusement taintIng his voice. “Terrifying. I can see why Shigaraki scouted you,” he added in blatant mockery.

The sudden confrontation had you wish some random hole in the ground would prop open and swallow you whole, effectively putting an end to this.

Your eyes flew open at once and you glared at the bottle in your hand that read: ‘Strawberry passion — let your senses be filled with bliss and calmness’. Now that was fucking ironic.

Another tug.

“Don’t make me burn this shit down.”

You scoffed. “You keep your eyes fucking shut, then. Not even a peak.”

“Sure, doll.”

Admitting defeat, you scooted to the corner of the stall, your back facing him as you heard the door slide open. You felt him brush past you, but managed to keep your composure. There was no point in stressing about this. Dabi was merely your... colleague? Coworker? Fellow... villain? It came with the territory, right?

You grasped the shower head and raised your arm to have warm water pour down on you. For a brief moment, you were able to ignore the man behind you, and just kept on rinsing as fat as you could to terminate this awkward situation.

Just a few more seconds...

But, of course, life seldom went as planned.

“Sharing is caring, doll,” his low voice rumbled, and you felt his breath fanning the nape of your neck, causing you to jolt.

The sudden proximity sent your brain into overdrive. Every single hair in your body stirred as goosebumps spread from the shiver running down your spine. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt his hand wrap around yours.

You tried to muster a few words, but the overwhelming sensation of having someone you felt so attracted to being so close to you, definitely proved to be a harder task than you’d imagined.

“Eyes shut...” you managed to mumble as a reminder, feeling the curtain of water shift to your back and ultimately leaving your body entirely.

Dabi let out a sigh of relief. “Fuck... this feels good.”

His choice of words had heat spread across you like wildfire. Unfortunately, the sudden loss of a heat source had your body quivering in an attempt to keep your temperature from dropping. You wrapped your arms across your chest out of reflex, but it did little to help.

That din’t go unnoticed by the young villain. “You cold?”

“Ju-just... hurry up...” you said between teetering teeth.

Silence fell between you two before you heard vague splashes of water. “I can warm you up.”

He was close to you once more. Too close. Close enough that you could feel his hot breath near your ear, and something else nudging at your backside.

Your head turned to glare at his half-hooded eyes. “No, thank you...”

His lips were dangerously close to yours, and from that angle you could see the way the metallic hoops on each side of his face strained but a little when he drew a faint grin.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you?”

That gave you a whiplash.

As soon a those words left his mouth, you gasped in confusion. “What?!”

But there was nothing to be confused about. It was a rhetorical question from him. You were suddenly aware that he knew. That he had been able to read your signs all along.

Dabi placed the shower head back in its holder, pressing his back fully against yours in the process.

That’s when you felt all of him.

From the hardened nipples to the cool edges of his staples, and all the way to his hard cock pressed against your ass. You shuddered under his touch, causing it to settle right in between your ass cheeks.

“Dabi...”

He bucked his hips lightly, his slippery cock gliding with ease as a deep growl ripped from him. Haziness swarmed your mind, and you pressed both hands on the cold tiles for support, welcoming the water that poured on you from the shower head.

“Say my name again...”

“Why...” you mewled back, swaying your hips sensually against him.

What the fuck...

This was probably a bad idea. You weren’t even sure how you allowed things escalate this quickly. Dabi could snap anyone in half if he felt like it; he could also incinerate anything just as easily. You supposed the dangers of meddling with someone this volatile added to the allure.

And he was aware of that fact.

He fed on it and used it to get you to surrender yourself to him.

“Say it,” he repeated his request, bringing both hands to grasp your hips.

Your eyes snapped open once he pressed a soft kiss on your neck.

“I hate you.”

You mentally slapped yourself for being so weak. Those words carried no weight whatsoever, and they only served to heave a taunting chuckle from him. Even though this entire situation had your face burning with heat, the rest of your body still struggled to keep your temperature up, causing you to shiver from time to time.

Dabi excelled at reading body language like no other. He took pride in being able to know someone’s true intention just from the way their body reacted to his presence. He was no stranger to the inner workings of women when it came to him; he knew precisely which strings to tug in order to get them to crave his touch.

You were no different.

In fact, you had completely and miserably failed at keeping your thirst for him at bay.

And with unprecedented expertise, Dabi had your body to bend to his will, granting you one of your deepest desires.

You felt his palms heat up against your skin.

“I... hate you...” your voice came out in a weak tremble.

Were you trying to convince him, or yourself?

His hands began sliding up your sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. You realized you were no longer quivering from loss of warmth; your shudders were stemmed from the way Dabi was slowly and carefully feeling you up. His heated hands moved to your breasts, and without any notice, he had both your nipples being rolled in between his fingers.

Instinctively, you bucked against him. “Fuck...”

Dabi let out a hiss in response. “Sure you hate me?”

He pinched your nipples lightly before grazing his staple-covered palms along the sensitive buds.

“Yes,” you blurted out firmly.

The metallic hoops spread across his palms teased you further.

But before your throbbing clit could welcome the new stimulus, he halted and the heat pooling on his fingertips quickly died down. “So you want me to stop.”

“No!” you protested as his hands abandoned your skin.

“Then what?” Dabi inquired, bringing one finger to trail down your spine, prompting your back to arch downwards and your ass to spring up invitingly. “All these mixed signals... tss.”

You managed to suppress a moan when you felt his slippery cock slide down to tease your entrance.

“Dabi...” you let out, trying to find a few words to say. “Eyes shut.”

He chuckled. “Doll... I have my cock pressed against your ass and leaking for you... does that even matter?”

Of course not. You weren’t even sure why you had said that... your mind was playing tricks on you.

Even so, you weren’t so lucky the second time around, and when he slapped your swollen clit with the tip, your mouth fell open in a strangled cry. You highly doubted the slick tiles would be able to support your body as he proceeded to place his cock in between your damp folds.

“Hold on tight, doll. I need to prep you for my cock first,” his voice dripped with lust. “Be a good girl and bend over.”

Your pussy clenched impulsively.

To say you were completely and ridiculously turned on was the understatement of the year. No amount of rationality would help you now. You were too far gone, and your desire for him clouded any shred of judgement in you.

There was no point in resisting him any longer.

You strongly held on to the shower faucet, in the hopes of it being enough to keep your knees from giving out on you from the overwhelming pleasure spreading across your clit.

He kept sliding his thick cock along your pussy lips coating it in your wetness. It was faintly embarrassing to think of how quickly you’d gotten soaked for him, but on the other hand, you couldn’t really blame yourself for it. Dabi was definitely a natural. You figured he had enough experience to get you all riled up in no time.

You felt him snake one arm around you as his hand travelled down to your pussy. In all honesty, you felt too empty. Even though you hadn’t seen his cock, you had felt it and you craved it more than his fingers at this point.

The palm of his hand brushed against your clit, earning an instant moan from him.

“Dabi... just... fuck me...” you panted in between groans as he teased you with the staples carved into his skin.

Those staples had long caught your attention, but you never thought in a million years that you’d find pleasure in having them brush against your most intimate parts.

His velvety voice came out in a low purr. “Patience... I need you soaked enough to take my cock.”

“I am!” you half-yelled, bucking your hips in an attempt to have his cock placed at your entrance.

The hand teasing your clit stopped abruptly. “Really? Lemme check, then,” just as soon as he whispered those words, he pulled back from you momentarily, pressed one hand on your lower back to have you at a desired angle, before shoving two long fingers inside your wet cunt.

It took all of you to hold back a guttural groan from echoing throughout the bathroom. You bit down on your lower lip, an you reckoned it wouldn’t take long to draw blood. He held you firmly in place with his free hand gripping your hip while he fucked you with his fingers.

“You’re not just soaked... you’re fucking drenched,” he said in bewilderment, curling his digits inside you. “Think you can take a third one?”

You felt another fingertip prodding at your entrance, but you could only nod. There was no way you were going to open your damn mouth. The implications of doing so were far too severe, and you dreaded the idea of anyone outside being able to hear you moan for Dabi.

His third finger struggled at first to join the others. “Tight... just part your legs, doll...”

Doing as he instructed, he finally managed to get the slender digit to slide all the way in, until he was buried in you knuckle-deep. You’d never felt this stretched out before, and the newfound sensation was enough to finally have you let go of your lip and have your mouth fall open in a sigh of pure bliss.

“Now that’s a good girl,” he praised you, while finger-fucking you at a steady rhythm. “You’re literally milking my fingers...”

From the way his voice was starting to emerge fully strained, you figured this was also taking a toll on him. Having your walls involuntarily clench around his moving fingers and hearing him occasionally growl from it, had your ego soar dangerously high. Your entire body was urging you to cum, and as despair overcame your senses, you hand one han settle between your legs to rub your needy clit.

Dabi suddenly stopped thrusting his fingers, and clicked his tongue. “Stop.”

Annoyance hit you hard from the loss of his stimulation. “Fuck!”

His hand grabbed yours. “Let me make you cum. Just me.”

As soon as your gripped the faucet again with both hands, Dabi jumpstarted his ministrations in order to help you reach your much desired high.

“Say my name.”

You truly didn’t want to do that. The fear of losing control and having your moans being heard, kept you from heeding his request once again.

But Dabi had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Both his index and middle fingers pressed against your clit, and you felt the fingertips starting to heat up. He was definitely using his quirk in order to help the heat in your lower belly to intensify. It was a neat trick coming from him, and it was most welcome as you felt the familiar coil of an upcoming orgasm build inside you with each passing second.

“Say. It.”

Obscene soppy sounds left your tight pussy as he showed no signs of faltering his pace. Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth hung open as you tightened around him, preparing to let a peak of pleasure wash over your body.

“Fuck... fu-fuck... I...” you mumbled incoherently, not able to muster any comprehensible thoughts.

You were so close.

Your hips jolted into his hand, and just as you were about to cum, you felt sudden emptiness and were left clenching around nothing nothing.

“What the fuck?!” You cried out indignantly. “Why?!”

The high inside your suddenly plummeted back to the ground, leaving you on the verge of tears.

Dabi gave your ass cheek a light smack. “Told you to say my name.”

You turned your head to give him a death glare. “Fuck you!”

He pressed the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Besides, I want you milking my cock.”

With one hard thrust, he pushed himself halfway inside you, unable to hold back a satisfied growl. Right then you understood exactly why he insisted on preparing you for him. He was definitely thicker and bigger than average. The sudden discomfort had you clench tightly around him in reflex, preventing him from going balls deep at once.

“Stop... fuck... stop being so fucking tight....” Dabi growled, stilling inside you. “Relax, doll...”

Your took a few deep breaths as your pussy adjusted to his unexpected size. He placed his hands on your hips, brushing his thumbs in circles across your flushed skin. It was most likely Dabi’s own way of offering comfort.

You weren’t sure how many seconds passed, but you were genuinely grateful he was waiting for you to finally loosen up and allowed his cock to finally slide all the way in.

A sudden gasp emerged from within you as his fingers gripped your hips vigorously, guiding you along his length. He started out slowly, but his self-restraint wasn’t enough to keep him from thrusting faster and deeper into you. The pace he set resembled that of someone on the edge of losing their sanity.

“You really wanna make me cum fast with that tight pussy of yours...”

His words were like fuel to the fire that once more threatened to get out of control soon enough. Your hands desperately grasped the faucet as pleasure overwhelmed you. A few more thrusts had your thighs starting to quiver.

Dabi had his fingers on your clit once again, determined to deliver all the pleasure he could possibly provide.

“Dabi... Dabi!”

His hips faltered for a split second. “Fuck... such a good and tight girl...”

You could hardly breathe once he set a new rhythm, which nearly had your face getting pressed against your hands from the brutal force.

“Dabi...” you mewled, feeling droplets of water mix with your own saliva as strings of spit hung from the corners of your mouth. You were officially drooling for this man.

In no time, your vision started to tunnel as you were thrown into the pinnacle of sheer bliss. Your mind went blank for a brief moment, with his name coming out in broken moans. The ecstatic orgasm had your pussy ripple and squeeze around his cock mercilessly as you kept rocking your hips against his desperate to ride out your high for as long as possible.

“Fuck this...” you heard him mumble at one point, his groans overcame your own. “Fuck!”

His own release was nearing, that much was certain. He was pounding into you hard and fast, jackhammering into you like his life depended on it, driving the breath from your lungs.

You had long descended from your orgasm, but you were still left to deal with the overstimulation from his cock sliding in and out of you relentlessly.

Tears soon prickled the corners of your eyes. “Oh my... god... enough.... Dabi...”

He responded by rubbing your clit harder in unison with his thrusts.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

His long drawn out groan let you know he had finally reached his peak. Your own knees began to tremble from having to hold your body in that position for so long, but he made sure you weren’t going anywhere. With a few pumps of his hips in a broken rhythm, you felt hot sprays of cum shoot inside your pussy.

He slapped your ass cheek once he was done, enjoying the sight of your pussy still tightly wrapped around him.

“What a pretty pussy....”

Your heart was still racing and your breath coming out uneven.

In one swift motion, he fully slid from inside you, and you immediately felt his cum drip as your walls contracted. “Let’s get you all cleaned up. Then we can take a proper shower.”

You were fairly certain you might regret what just happened later on, but for now, you chose to brush that aside.

Dabi wasn’t someone easy to read.

He most definitely wasn’t someone easy to get.

For the time being, you’d relish on the fact that you had made him cum. Probably not something curriculum worthy, but it was good for you and your ego.

-

Masterlist

[kindahoping4forever]

When The Sun Came Up, You Were Looking At Me (Prologue) // Ashton Irwin

It really cannot be overstated how excited @cal-puddies​ and I are for you all to finally start reading this fic!! I searched our chat and we actually came up with the skeleton idea for this sequel only TWO DAYS after Remember When We Couldn’t Take The Heat was posted LAST APRIL and we started seriously writing in SEPTEMBER. This is a long time coming. We hope you love it as much as we do and thank you again for encouraging us to continue this story!

Don’t forget we’re alternating chapters so the story continues tomorrow over on Cass’s blog. And of course, you can find links to everything as it’s posted in the masterlist linked below! 

Warnings: Tension, both dramatic and sexual. Mild angst. Meddling but well-meaning friends. The first smut-free work Cass and I have ever written together (don’t worry, we more than make up for it the rest of the series lmao)

Word Count: 3455

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist  // Series Masterlist

Let  us  know  what  you  think!

The traffic light changes to green and you turn down Luke and Sierra’s street. You roll your eyes at the quickening of your pulse as you think about the party tonight; you’d give anything to skip it but you know Michael and Crystal really want you there and you can’t not show up for them. 

You feel your nerves settle a bit as you step out of the car and see Sierra waiting at the door for you, happy to have you over to get ready together. She grins wide and pulls you into a warm hug, Luke quickly coming over to engulf you as well. Their excited greetings overlap as they literally smother you with affection and you can’t help but laugh at the fuss they’re making.

“You always disappear for too long,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head. 

“Just needed some space,” you say with a shrug. 

“You broke up with Ash, not us,” Sierra reminds you, squeezing your arm. 

“I know, I know,” you nod with a weak smile. 

Luke grabs the bag with your dress in it and takes it to their room while you and Sierra get a drink. “Thank god you’re letting me pre-game,” you joke. 

“How are you feeling about everything?” She asks as you head back with her. 

“Just doin’ my best to be OK,” you admit, without even thinking about Luke overhearing. “It was like… close to an entire year of my life you know? I know it doesn’t seem like much... I just wasn’t ready, you know? And I’m definitely not ready for tonight.” 

Sierra sits on the bed, listening as you sit at her vanity, absentmindedly looking over the beauty products on it.  “It was such an intense relationship, it makes sense you’re not over it yet, babe,” she points out gently.

“I should be over it, though, it was ridiculous. Our whole relationship was based on a foundation of fighting until we fucked to forget why we fought… it didn’t work, we never really communicated about anything.” 

“Well. You already know I’m not a fan of how the breakup went down,” she shakes her head, plugging in the curling iron you’ve been gesturing wildly with. “It’s been a couple months now, you guys still haven’t even texted?”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink. “Please, we are the king and queen of Stubborn Town, I haven’t seen or heard from that man since I got the last of my stuff from his place,” you shrug. “I guess it still just feels… unfinished. I hate that.”

“I mean, it feels unfinished because you guys left it that way,” she says matter of factly. “You both decided you were done and then just… were? When you love someone, walking away like that doesn’t work.”

“I never said I loved him,” you glare at her through the mirror.

She settles behind you and starts sectioning off your hair. “Never said you didn’t either,” she teases.

Before you know it, 45 minutes have passed and Luke is at the door warning that he’s about to call the Uber; you’re deep into your girl talk catch-up and the knock on the door causes you both to burst into shrieks and giggles, scurrying around the room to finish getting ready.

Miraculously, you get yourselves together in time and as you stand in front of the house waiting for the car to arrive, Luke nudges you gently. “Ash is coming from a meeting on the other side of town, so you’ve got time to relax, he won’t be there for a while,” he reassures you. “And if you feel like you need to leave, let us know and we’ll come up with a reason to swoop you outta there.”

You put your arms around him and squeeze. “I’ve missed you too,” you say with a smile.

Luke tells you and Sierra how nice you both look as he ushers you inside the party. They both watch you scan the room, relaxing once you see Ashton hasn't arrived and then you all break off, making the rounds. 

You greet a few people but end up hanging off to the side, keeping an eye on the door, nervously half-paying attention to anyone who happens to approach you. 

You immediately tense when he enters. Luke moves to welcome him while Sierra comes to you, trying to be a silent support; her babysitting goes from feeling comforting to coddling very quickly and you urge her to go back to mingling. 

You try not to stare but you can’t help it, you haven’t seen him in so long. Even before you were together, when you hated him, it was hard not to be drawn to him. He just has that kind of presence. 

Luke hasn’t left his side since he walked in, chatting away, but you don’t think anything of it. That is, until everyone seems to be finding their place at the various tables and you’re still awkwardly standing to the side. You would typically sit with Luke and Sierra but they’ve made themselves cozy at a table with Ashton and Calum. 

You head for the bar and before you can order, someone comes up beside you. You ignore them until you hear the soft “Hey” fall from his lips, in that lush, slightly accented voice you missed more than you’d care to admit. 

You turn, fully taking him in for the first time tonight; his hair is different than the last time you saw him and he really seems to be feeling himself in his black pants and the lace button-up you used to make fun of. “Hi,” you respond, so quiet that Ash has to lean in to be sure he heard you. 

“Grab your drink and come sit with us,” he says, waving encouragingly. 

“Uh… that’s OK. I might leave,” you shrug. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your ridiculous suggestion. “No you won’t. First of all, I know you came with Luke and Sierra and they’re not leaving. Second of all, you’d never let Crystal and Mike down like that. Just come sit,” he insists, gently tugging on the hem of your dress. 

You melt a little inside. This was one of the reasons you liked him so much, he was always so confident that he knew you so well. But it’s also one of the reasons why you fought and he drove you crazy. 

“Fine,” you sigh with a slight smile. He waits for you to order your drink, also making you crazy, like he can’t trust you’ll do as you say.

“There you are!” Sierra smiles as you take the seat across the table from her and Luke. Sitting between Calum and Ashton is a spot you were very familiar being in; they’d constantly lean over you to share a joke and then one of them would fill you in afterwards if you were lucky. Your heart breaks a little when you realize that's not likely to happen now. 

You make small talk with Cal for a bit; you’ve missed his pinchable cheeks and his sweet laugh. You’d spent plenty of time with him when you were with Ashton but hadn’t really kept in touch since the split. He asks you about work and both he and Ash pay close attention as you chat about your job.

Sierra keeps a close eye on the two of you and notices how quickly you get reacquainted. The way Ash naturally rests his arm on the back of your chair. How when he started getting animated with a story, you knowingly shifted all the drinks over until he was finished. How he won’t let himself laugh at his own joke until he checks to make sure you’re laughing first. The hair toss you subconsciously give whenever he does make you laugh.

Later on, she catches him at the refreshment table serving your favorite dessert onto his plate even though it’s something he notoriously doesn’t like. She walks alongside him as he heads back. “You hate that,” she smirks, pointing at the offending dish.

“Oh. Right,” he says, realizing the old habit he just indulged. “She’ll eat it,” he shrugs, quickening his step to avoid any follow-up questions. 

Crystal makes the rounds to thank everyone for coming and stops Sierra with a hug; they chat for a minute but Crystal notices she seems distracted and eventually follows her gaze over to your table. Cal’s deeply invested on his phone, leaving you and Ash chatting by yourselves.

Crystal lightly snorts and leans in to her friend. “What’s old is new again, I guess,” she cups her manicured hand over her mouth to disguise her words. “You think they’ll leave together? I was shocked when she told me they haven’t hooked up even once since they split.”

Sierra shakes her head firmly. “They’re both too stubborn to admit they want even that from each other,” she rolls her eyes. “You should’ve seen how nervous she was to come here tonight.”

“Oh, Ash too,” Crystal whispers. “Ever since we planned this, Michael must’ve gotten at least 5 texts from him casually trying to find out if she was coming.”

Sierra sips her drink, never taking her eyes off your table. “It ended so badly, I can’t get over how comfortable they are with each other… there’s still just so much love there.”

Crystal shrugs. “Well god bless them but think of how long it took them to actually get together,” she points out. “I wouldn’t hold my breath for them to figure out that they called it off too soon.” 

You make light conversation with Ashton, trying to ignore the girls’ gabfest you see out of the corner of your eye; they were both supportive but clearly distraught when you told them about the breakup so you know they’ve got to be eating this up. 

Calum announces he’s stepping away for a cigarette and you and Ash pick at your plates in silence for a few minutes, suddenly feeling the weight of having to interact without a buffer. Finally, he offers up a quiet, “You’ve been good?”

You answer perhaps a little too quickly, nod perhaps a little too vigorously, eager to mask any implication of hurt feelings. “Yep. Busy. But good.”

He fiddles with the tablecloth. “You know... I meant to call sometime but it never felt right and then things got crazy with the band…”

“It’s fine,” you interrupt, shaking your head. “I didn’t check in either. Didn’t think you’d answer,” you laugh weakly.

He smiles and you hate how warm you feel at the sight. “Why did I always assume you were a ‘fuck that guy, delete his number as soon as you’re out the door’ kind of ex?”

Your heart sinks and you’re not sure why; it takes you a moment to realize it’s because this is the first time you’ve actually thought of yourself as “his ex.” You steady yourself. “Usually am. Decided to be mature on this one. You’re still at the top of my contacts. Listed under ‘Asshole,’ obviously,” you giggle.

“Ah, my favorite of your pet names,” he laughs along with you.

You talk for a few more minutes until Crystal makes her way over; Ash slips away while the two of you catch up and shortly after, you get a text from Luke asking if you’re ready to go. Your eyes scan the room though you aren’t sure what exactly you’re searching for, because you’re totally fine leaving without saying goodbye to Ashton. 

You're quiet on the ride back to Sierra and Luke’s and while you collect your things from their bedroom, she gently checks in.

“See, tonight wasn’t so bad,” she muses. 

“No, it was OK. Good to see everyone,” you shrug. “...Ash looks healthy.” 

“He looks good,” Sierra says pointedly. You say nothing. 

“You sure you’re good to drive?” Luke asks, coming into the room and sitting next to his girlfriend on the bed. “You know you’re always welcome to stay here.” 

“I’m fine, Luke,” you chuckle. You turn and hug them both. “I love you both, I’ll text when I’m home.” They respond by kissing the top of your head and you chuckle fondly as you leave. 

“They seemed OK tonight,” Luke mentions while they get ready for bed.

“They were more than OK, those stubborn kids couldn’t have been more into each other,” Sierra rants. “I think they really miss it, they just won’t admit it.”

“Oh, Ash definitely misses her. I swear, he talked about her less when they were together,” he jokes. Sierra raises an eyebrow, which Luke takes as encouragement to continue rambling about everything Ash had told him. “He knows they fought a lot but he even misses that... he’s been saying he’s glad he never told her he loved her, though. Things would’ve been a lot harder. Messier. I dunno, he’s always asking about her.”

You get home and drop your bag right inside the door with a huge, exhausted sigh and pull out your phone to text Luke and Sierra before heading to your room. You throw open the closet and it only takes you a couple seconds to spot what you’re looking for: that hoodie that Ash left behind and you never bothered to return. 

You stare at it for a beat and then leave to wash your face and brush your teeth; you already know what you’re about to do but you still try to talk yourself out of it. Back in the bedroom, you reluctantly grab the hoodie off of its hanger, change into it and climb into bed. You hold the sleeves to your face and breathe Ashton in; long, deep breaths, letting his smell fill your nostrils. You’ve done this more times than you’d care to admit these past few months; you miss him here, in your space. You curl in a ball and drift off, taking comfort in his scent surrounding you. 

You’re woken up early by your phone buzzing on the nightstand. You see it’s Sierra and pick it up, groaning, making sure she can hear it. “S?”

“Hey babe… can we lunch?” She bubbles. 

“You couldn’t have texted?”

“Sorry, Sunshine, just wanted to hear your lovely voice… and get a definite answer out of you. 1 o’clock, don’t be late!” She sing-songs, hanging up. 

You check your notifications and your heart sinks, not seeing anything from Ashton. You weren’t sure why you thought you would. You curl up and go back to sleep for a while. 

Sierra knows you well enough to guess you fell back asleep without setting an alarm and she starts blowing you up around noon. You text that you’ll see her soon and you start getting ready. You use the most fragrant soap you can find for your shower, ensuring the smell of Ashton's cologne doesn't linger on your skin.

You walk into your usual lunch place and easily spot Sierra on the patio. "Drinks are on their way," she shares as you take your seat.

You chat breezily about the party: how good the food was, how Michael's DJ setup was so much more elaborate than at the last party you attended, how much you loved what Crystal had worn. You wonder out loud if Cal had gone home with the girl he'd been making eyes at all night and Sierra seizes the opportunity to steer the conversation to her topic of choice.

"Speaking of making eyes," she takes a prolonged sip from her glass. "Things seemed a little intense with Ash last night."

You give her a tight-lipped smile, determined not to give her anything she can blow out of proportion. "I told you it was fine. Easier than I expected in a lot of ways, harder in others."

She places her hand on your arm from across the table. "I looked over a few times and saw him with his arm over your chair, you watching him talk… it was like we were back at that resort again," she says wistfully.

You evaluate her face for a moment. Since she's one of your best friends, you're used to being lovingly annoyed with her meddling in your life but sometimes you forget that it comes from a place of genuine love and concern for you. "Regardless of how things turned out, I'll always be grateful you forced me to stay on that trip," you smile. "That was some once in a lifetime kind of shit."

"From what I heard down the hall, sure sounded like it," she teases, grinning as you playfully shoo her hand off your arm. "That anniversary's coming up quick, isn't it?"

"Next week," you blurt, wincing at how quickly you answer.

"We'll have to think of something fun to do together," she declares carefully. "Not that you need it, but just in case you don't want to be alone."

This time you reach over and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry I haven't been around like I used to, S. I just… needed time," you admit. "It's still hard. Most of the time, actually. But being around you and Lu again feels good. I think I need the support more than I realized."

"Babe," she pouts. "We were there for you before Ash, during Ash and we want to be there for you post-Ash. We love you."

You feel better than you thought you would as you head back to your car. Being honest with Sierra - and yourself - was easier than you expected. You briefly think about texting Ash - nothing major, something chill like "fun catching up last night" - but think better of it.

Sierra gets to her car and immediately texts Crystal, who requested an update when she heard you were getting lunch. She suggests asking Cal’s perspective to get the full picture of where Ash is at, so Sierra calls him on the drive home. 

“Hey Sweet Boy!” She greets him. 

“Sierra!” She can hear the grin on his face at the nickname. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Well, I wanted to ask you how Ash is. I mean, I know what Luke tells me but I feel like he gives you more,” she explains. 

“How do you mean? You saw him last night?” 

“How has he been since the breakup?” She emphasizes. 

“Oh… OH!! Oh! What are you planning? Please tell me you’re doing something, he’s making me crazy. I don’t know what came over him last night,” Cal babbles. 

“I think Luke had a hand in that,” Sierra admits with a sigh. “She came over to get ready with me and I think he probably shared some things he shouldn’t have. You know how he is.”

“What’s in that beautiful brain of yours?” Cal murmurs, letting out an excited little laugh. Out of everyone, he tends to enjoy Sierra’s plans like this the most, especially when they aren’t directed toward him. 

“I don’t know yet… I feel like we just need to get them talking alone again like they were last night, remind them what was there...” she muses. She talks through a few ideas with Calum and he’s on board for any of them.

By the time she gets home, Sierra is raring to go; she practically runs up the stairs to ask Luke for his help.

“Hey hun!” He greets her with a smile when she raps on the door to his studio. He moves the guitar off his lap, silently inviting her to come lay on the couch while they talk. “How was lunch, how’s our girl?”

She fills him in on everything: your mood, your conversation and the consulting she’s been doing among the friend group. Luke seems interested but about halfway through becomes engrossed in his phone and Sierra sits up, irritated. “Babe, you asked, are you even listening?”

He briefly looks concerned and then grins. “Sorry, just distracted by Ash blowing up the group chat, asking if anyone wants to go away next week so he doesn’t have to deal with their anniversary,” he proudly holds up his phone.

Her jaw drops at the opportunity that’s fallen at their feet. “What if…” She starts furiously typing into her phone. “Yes… that house you guys stayed at when you were planning the last album is free.”

“Palm Springs? OK, so…” Luke trails off, trying to follow her logic.

“Band retreat for the boys. Self-care trip for the girls,” she answers, shooting off texts to Crystal, Mike and Cal. 

“That house really isn’t big enough for all of us,” he comments, still lost.

She finally looks up at him, smiling widely. “It’s a good thing they’ll be the only ones going, then.”

————-

Taglist is breaking the links in the post and I currently do not have the brainpower to figure out the problem lol. We’ll try again tomorrow but in the meantime, if you aren’t notified, you can always check the masterlist which will be updated everyday!

@mymindwide​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​ @pxrxmoore​​ @loveroflrh​​ @ghostofmashton​​ @sexgodashton​​ @feliznavidaddycal​​  

@castaway-cashton​​ @ashtonlftv​​ @cashtonasfuck​​ @megz1985​​  @angelicfluffs​​ @findingliam-o​​ @youngbloodchild​​  @irwinsbetch​​ @everyscarisahealingplace​​

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands  @realisticnotes  @makeamovehemmings @golden166​ @burstintocolor

​@youngblood199456​​​ @notinthesameguey​​​ @seanna313​​​  @zhangyixingxing1​​​ @stardust-galaxies​​​  @zackoid​​​

@lovelybonesetc​​​ @xsongxbirdx​​​ @justhereforcalum​​​   @ashtonangst​​

@laura66sos​​​ @calumrose​​​ @karajaynetoday​​​ ​​​ @jazzyangel242​​​ @babylon-corgis​​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​​ @calmsweetcreature​​​

@spicycal​​​ @talkfastromance4​​​  @holystxne​​​

@meetmedowntown​​​ @myloverboyash​​​

@irwindoll​​​​​​ @carrielfisher​​​ @lukedorkyhemmings​​​ @creampiecashton​​​ @lovelywordsblog​​​

@trix-arent-for-kids​ @uh-huhh-honey​ @tobefalling​ @aladyofalbion​ @likehuhdude​

@curlycalums​​​  @cxddlyash​​​  

@fedorable-killjoys​​​  @iamcalumswhore​​​   @i-like-5sos​​​  

@aquarius-hood1996​  @babylonashton​  

@begluketostay​   @mateisit-balsamic​​

@crazyforcal​​   @neso-k​​   @deliciouslydisturbed365​​  @blxndeprincess

[threeminutesoflife]

Have You Any Wool?

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Reader Warning: 18+, dub/con, manhandling/rough sex, breath play/choking, unprotected sex Summary: Engagement dinner with Ransom doesn't go as planned Word Count: 3.2k

The car ride home was silent, tense. The car bounced causing Ransom to grumble when it caught the edge of a pothole. One more thing that was surely your fault.

Ten more minutes passed until Ransom broke the silence by revisiting the earlier accusation, “You were flirting with him. Might as well have pulled your top down when talking to that fucking prick.”

“If I exposed my tits every time I talked to a prick, I’d constantly be topless around you.”

Ransom shot you a glare as the car whipped the curve out of the city and down a remote road, “It’d be safer for you to only be concerned about my prick.”

Your fingers dug into the car door as he straightened out the vehicle, “What did you-”

“Smarter. It’d be smarter for you to only be concerned about me- and my huge prick.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you- there was no flirting.”

“Could have fucking fooled me with those exchanges tossed around.”

“What the hell, Ransom, you’re ridiculous. There were no secret coded exchanges. Nothing said was of value.”

“Sure. Nothing. Whatever you say.” You didn’t have to look at your boyfriend to know he rolled his eyes at least twice when spitting out those words.

“What is wrong with you? Whatever untrue scene you cooked up in your crazy head- knock it off.”

Ransom scoffed out your name, “I know what I fucking saw.”

“Oh my god-“

“No, I’m Ransom. Your boyfriend,” his eyes staying on the road as he spoke heatedly at you, “but I know how you’ve recently become confused on our roles to each other. So let me break it down- really fucking simply for you. I don’t loan my toys out for others to play with.”

“Fucking hell, Ransom-“

“Hugh… I think, I’ll have you address me as Hugh from now on.”

Taking your beaded clutch, you smacked Ransom’s bicep, “How about I call you ‘asshole’ and tell you to lose my number!”

Ransom growled and grabbed your purse as he weaved along the isolated lane. Taking the clutch, he smacked your thigh in return and tossed it out his window.

You screeched seeing your belongings fly across the wooded night sky, “Are you insane?! Pullover! Pullover right the fuck now! Everything I have is in there!”

Ransom pressed down harder on the gas pedal, propelling you back against your seat. “You have me- that’s all that fucking matters. Fran can play fetch and get it tomorrow.”

“You can’t just order her- Ugh- Pull over right now, Ransom! Goddammit, you’re unbelievable! I need my keys, my phone, my fucking wallet! It’s all in there, you asshole!”

Ransom only picked out one thing from your rant, “I’m the asshole? What kind of grade A bullshit are you feeding yourself to believe that? You were the one flirting with someone in right front of me. I don’t need to be in this relationship, you know. Plenty of people want me.”

Your eyes narrowed at that, “Then let me out here if that’s how you really feel, asshole.”

Ransom ignored your challenge and the look you shot him to smugly add, “Besides, seems like you’re up shit’s creek without a paddle. No keys? Guess you need me pretty fucking badly now.”

He squeezed your thigh and slid he hand down closer to the apex of your thighs.

“Are you crazy?” You pushed his hand away and pressed your knees together tightly. “Are you seriously getting off on being a complete shitwad to me? And- hey asshole, look at me- he was the waiter. The waiter. He asked if we wanted dessert. Meaning you and me, Ransom- not him and me. With your sweet tooth, of course I asked about the dessert options! For you, Hugh.”

You flipped his car’s heater on with more force than necessary. Really at this point, all you wanted to do was smash every button and rearrange all his settings into chaos. “All this fighting, you’d think the rage would keep me warm. But no, it’s freezing in here!”

“Maybe try wearing more clothes and not letting your nips slip out to random men.” Ransom flipped the heater off with a smirk, “Should have brought a sweater.”

“I hope you fucking choke on your sweater,” You mumbled as you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling cold and vulnerable.

Ransom arched an eyebrow at your wish and internally gloated when you ran your hands over your arms, trying to warm up.

You refused to acknowledge him, keeping your eyes pointed out the window. “Just take me home. I know you keep my spare key on you.”

Ransom smacked the steering wheel in annoyance with how the evening went, making you slightly flinch.

He had been anxious all day and well-aware he was acting like a dick to you at the moment. But the untouched ring box in his coat pocket felt too heavy for him to speak kindly to anyone tonight, even you.

Ransom had been nervous since picking up the archaic piece of jewelry. A feeling that left him sneering at a weak characteristic of humanity. He wasn’t a soft individual, but he wasn’t as abrasive around you.

He knew he wanted you as soon as you met and rejected him, only then to turn around and tell him to meet you in the restroom at the charity event. He walked in expecting to receive a blowjob and gift you with a beaded necklace. Instead, he was surprised and became more aroused when you lifted up your gown and instructed him to get on his knees and press his lips to yours.

He had this night planned for a long time- the setting, the restaurant, little details ironed and starched out. But when he arrived at the perfect restaurant, he was quickly pulled aside- as perfect you was led away to the perfect table- and was quietly informed that the perfect waiter, who he perfectly coached to ensure the perfect timing, was perfectly out sick.

The stand-in waiter was a shit show, and Ransom was convinced the guy couldn’t even shit in a pile.

Besides being on edge all night from his nerves, Ransom was now on edge from the imbecile who couldn’t time the courses correctly and wouldn’t stop talking to you like you were friends playing twenty questions.

It felt like he was watching the waiter attempt to speed date you, every time circling around your seat with more questions. What are your side dish preferences, would you like more cheese, how about more pepper, would you like your glass refilled?

Were you actually flirting with the waiter? No, you were being a polite customer. But at that point of the night, all Ransom could focus on was the wasted time he spent on the preparations and his perfect proposal going down a perfectly shit-filled toilet.

But then as negativity was drowning Ransom’s thoughts, you did that thing only you could do.

You knew something was wrong with Ransom without having to ask. You took his hand across the table and gave it a light squeeze. A tilt of your head as you bit your lip and smiled endearingly at him. He felt your thumb rub the back of his hand, each graze softer than the last. He felt the sincerity in your smile and saw the concern in your eyes. You treated him in a way that was far better than he deserved- a way he didn’t know he wanted to be treated until meeting you.

And this was it. This was the moment he planned for.

You cemented it with that serene look of adoration for him.

This was right, this was perfect.

He gave a crooked smile and thumbed his pocket for the ring box. Clearing his throat, he softly said your name. Almost too softly, because you half-laughed and looked at him with a look of cute confusion. He held your hand just a little bit tighter, a little bit more desperate. He leaned in closer from across the table and-

The waiter came back and interrupted the moment by asking about dessert. As you pulled your hands away from Ransom, you smiled politely at the waiter. Ransom felt you and your obvious answer of yes slip away from him. And he was pissed.

As the ring grew cold again in the velvet box, he vowed with every bite of the overpriced, sickly-sweet dessert he’d never eat here again.

Ransom shook his head at the tension refilling the car. The ring still stashed away in his coat pocket, teasing him with how it wasn’t warming on your finger.

The ring was still cold, but his annoyance and sweater kept him plenty warm.

He’d make up for the fight later. You were his. You’d forgive him, you always did. But first, finding a small amount of humor in his ill-aimed anger, he turned the air conditioning on. Before you could protest, Ransom flipped on the radio and raised the volume to drown out the inevitable sound of your chattering teeth.

Shifting in your seat to find a comfortable spot, you kicked off your heels. Debating which was worse- cold feet or sore feet? Biting your tongue at Ransom’s childish air conditioning antics, you weren’t about to address him more than you’d have to. You were annoyed with yourself for agreeing to eat at this out-of-the-way restaurant, and even more annoyed at yourself for losing your purse to your and Ransom’s tempers.

---

“This is not my house, Ransom,” you weren’t surprised to see he only drove where he wanted to go.

“Get out, we’re having makeup sex.”

You kept your arms crossed in annoyance and didn’t move. “Wow, so romantic. Hugh Ransom Drysdale, everyone- the last true Renaissance man.”

Ransom inhaled deeply, half-amused and half-not at your dry sense of humor, “Grab your shoes or leave'em, I really don’t care. But your ass is going to be out of this car and cupped in my fucking hands within the next five minutes.”

“I am too fucking cold for these games, Hugh. Some asshole kept the air conditioner on and wouldn’t lend me a sweater. You want us to stop fighting? Fine, we’ve stopped. But we are not fucking. Now take me home.”

“We are home. Get out or I’ll move you, y/n.”

Something about Ransom’s tone made your legs flex and your knees press together. He knew it would draw a reaction from you, it always did. You sat up straighter, your core awaking at the thought of him manhandling and manipulating your body into various positions.

Smugness twisted in Ransom’s smile as he undid your seatbelt, “Look at you rubbing those thighs together, baby. You whine about going home but we both know you’re only going to end up in my bed. If we even make it that far.”

Ransom slammed the driver's door closed and came around to your side as you tried to downplay your interest and focus on your annoyance with him instead.

He opened your door and rested against it, “Out. Before I help you.”

You grabbed a high heel from the floor and pointed it at Ransom with each word, “Leave. Me. Alone.”

Ransom dove at you, grabbing you roughly out of the car, “You’re pissing me off, y/n.”

You yelped when he flung you over his broad shoulder, your stomach pressed painfully into him.

“And I have to say, I fucking like it,” Ransom smacked your ass and kicked the car door close.

The high heel abandoned on the ground as he made his way into the house with you.

He kneaded your freshly spanked cheek, only to smack it again, “Keep screaming. Make a scene. I know you’re wet and ready.”

Ransom dropped you on the bed to bounce about as he took off his sweater and dropped it behind you on the mattress. “Strip.”

Your eyes dart over Ransom’s chest and up to his eyes. You were still miffed with his attitude tonight, but when he became forceful and unpredictable like this- you couldn’t wait for the release.

Ransom kicked your knees apart and stepped one leg in between your open thighs. “I know, my girl. Fuck, I can smell my girl. Strip before I rip it off you.”

You jumped up and caught his face in your hands, crashing your lips against his. Teeth, tongue, bitten lips, all clashing over his; the desperation and hunger for it all felt more like a tactical advance than a romantic gesture.

Ransom pulled away first and chuckled darkly, “It’s always a sexual rollercoaster with you.”

His fingers snaked across the top of your sweetheart neckline and he slid two fingers underneath the material. He kept his eyes on yours as he slowly dipped his fingers up and down along your smooth skin.

Moving his fingers over your clavicle and up your neck, he laid them across your lips as you opened your mouth. Your tongue darted out, circling and wetting his fingers, anticipating him to insert his fingers in your mouth as you parted your lips more.

But he pulled away surprising you, and moved them back down to the top of your dress. Dipping his fingers between your cleavage, the cool air hit your skin along the wet trail he left.

“You’re a stubborn little tease, baby. Now, what did I tell you to do?” His hand came out from the top of your dress to grip the delicate material. Ransom jerked you close to him and bent his knee, your core hitting against his thigh as you stumbled into his chest.

Your eyes closed at the contact, your clit eager for more friction and attention. Biting your lip, you decided to change his command slightly and started undoing his belt. Ransom’s hips jolted out towards you as you tugged the leather lose. His grin widened when you tossed it on the floor and dipped your hands in his boxers.

Reaching behind you, he unzipped your dress. The tips of his fingers lingered down your spine. Ransom leaned into your neck, his teeth slowly nipped and his lips gently bruised your skin as his fingers dug into your hips. The dress pooled around your ankles, his pants followed. You stripped each other bare, a veil of soft intimacy hung around you both.

You cupped Ransom’s cheek with a soft smile, “Hi.”

A furrow started in his brow at your voice and before you had time to think, you were taken by surprise.

Ransom shoved you backwards, disliking the tenderness only you brought out in him.

Your head snapped against the mattress as your legs fell open, pussy glistening. Startled by his abruptness, you shouted out, “Asshole.”

“Oh, we’ll revisit that area again, princess- but I have something planned for you first.”

Ransom grabbed your ankles and yanked you across the bed to him. Gripping your hips, he flipped you over onto your stomach. He ignored your protests and slapped your bottom, sending a jolt through you.

Ransom’s hands ran up the back of your legs, his thumbs dipped between the apex of your wet thighs.

He moved his slick-coated thumbs along the crease of your cheeks, “Go on, keep crying wolf, baby. We both know you like it.”

His words made you involuntarily lift your ass off the bed, welcoming him to tease you more. Pulling you up to his chest, Ransom dropped his arms around the front of your waist and rocked his erection against your ass.

His lips ghosted your ear, his long fingers teased your clit, “Turn over, lay down. You’re going to like this.”

Breaking away from Ransom you dropped to all fours but didn’t refused to move further, and watched him spit and stroke himself over your shoulder.

He looked down at you, an eyebrow raised at your delay, “Fucking stubborn. Fine, I’ll make sure you love this.”

Ransom jumped at you, grabbing your shoulder and collaring your neck. He twisted you over onto your back and pressed his weight into your chest. His hold tightened around your neck and your knees fell apart inviting him closer to your core.

“So beautiful, aren’t you?” He lined himself up to your entrance. “So fucking sure of yourself,” he groaned as he felt you stretch around him. “So fucking sure-”

He pressed his fingers harder into the column of your throat as he pushed himself deeper into you, “I won’t hurt you, much.”

One of your legs hooked around his waist, both of your arms around his torso as he dragged himself in and out of you. You concentrated on your breathing and the chaotic fluttering in your core.

Every push into you, Ransom held your throat tighter; every pull away from you, he loosened his grip.

“You still cold, baby?” Ransom mocked and rolled his hips deep into you.

A mangled moan and a hard press of your heel on his ass was your reply.

“Here,” Ransom rocked back on his heels, pulling you back with him and down onto his cock with a tilt. “Let me warm you up some more.”

His knees dug into the mattress while your bottom was suspended in the air, each ass cheek in Ransom’s hands while your legs were wrapped high around his waist. He watched himself slide in and out of you, glistening. Your moans filled the room and nails bit into his forearms as you matched each other’s pace.

“Fuck.. Ransom..” You patted wildly. “Oh my god...”

He rolled his hips and snapped into you harder, arrogance and pleasure rolling off him.

Keeping himself inside you, Ransom dropped your bottom and bridged himself over you, his arms caging you under him, “Gotta get you warmer, baby.”

Without slowing his pace, he reached for the discarded sweater with one hand and looped it around your neck.

He felt your pussy clench as he made the knot. Your whimper cut off as Ransom tightened the wool sleeve around your throat.

With one hard yank on the sweater, he dove himself deeper in your pussy. Your cervix hurt but you were never wetter.

“That’s it, baby,” Ransom murmured above you, watching your reactions, all your tells, as he fucked you faster. “Fuck! Can feel you trying to milk my cock. So.. close.”

The sweater knotted in his hand as he braced his weight on his elbows. A tighter twist with a dirty roll of his hips. Your ankles locked above his ass as he slammed you over the edge.

“Right there, baby,” Ransom cupped your face, twisted the sweater tighter and roared, “RIGHT... THE... FUCK… THERE!”

Your mouth fell open and vision whitened as you shattered around him, your cunt convulsing and squeezing him. Ransom loosened the sweater and grabbed your face as he rutted into you.

His rhythm lost as he kissed your cheeks and brought you back to him, “So good, baby. My fucking girl.”

You pulled his lips to yours and swallowed his moans as he found his own release in you.

---

Ransom climbed back in bed, the sounds of your steady breathing filled the room as he nestled himself behind you. He pulled your back closer to his chest and slipped his leg between yours. Pressing his thigh against your core, he smirked feeling his dried release still staining your skin. Tomorrow morning, you would notice the ring on your finger. But by then, it would be warm on your skin and remain there. It didn’t matter to Ransom that he hadn’t asked you, you were his.

[sandwichrin]

A Little into You (Junkyu x Reader) (Ch. 26)

Chapter 26 - Cold 

Word count: 4.9k words

Genre: Fanfiction, PG13, Comedy, Romance.

A/N: Hewwo! I’m back after quite some time 😭 how are you all? I’ve missed you all so muchhh. Here’s the new chapter-- ngl i am super psyched for the next one ‘cause uh, we’re gonna see more cute moments i guess? :3

YGE Building (Main Meeting Room / 5th Floor)

“What did Chani meant when he said he’ll deal with you when you get home??” Soomin interrogates Bomin the moment it was just the two of them left in the room.

Bomin looked away, not being in the mood to answer the question.

“Oh ho so you’re the one that’s sulking right now?”

Bomin continued to ignore his girlfriend, instead, he heads towards the door, wanting to leave the meeting room.

“Wow. Fine. Leave. Just don’t tell me anything anymore,” Soomin said sarcastically.

Bomin stops in his track and lets out a sigh before turning around to look at her.

Soomin had a frown on her face, showing how clearly upset she was with what happened. Her arms are folded against her chest, which makes her look even more seriously upset.

“What is it, Soomin?” Bomin asked non-enthusiastically.

“Oh wow, you’re not asking me to repeat myself, are you?” she scoffed.

Rolling his eyes, he responded back at her, “Look, I’m no mood to fight, okay??”

“I’m not asking for a fight! I just want you to explain what the fuck you just did earlier!”

“Why are you so worked up over this? Everything went smoothly, didn’t it??”

“Clearly, no?? You freaking ruined y/n! That was so uncalled for!”

“Hey, this wouldn’t have happened if you had presented today! I told you, recognition is important in this company! And you had to make that clueless intern present for one of our biggest meetings,”

“For the 100th time, Bomin. She’s not an intern! She’s a regular staff like the rest in my team,” Soomin said in annoyance.

“With that qualification? She’s just the same like that nitwit friend of hers,”

“Oh my god! What is with you?? You’ve never been so stereotypical over people’s academics—yet now, oh god, you’re being such an asshole!”

“Look, I did what I had to, okay! You were supposed to support me, like how I always support you,”

“Bomin…y/n isn’t just a staff. She’s my friend. And I can’t believe I actually opened up to you about everything. I shouldn’t have told you anything about y/n…I should have known that when you asked about her, it was just for your selfish deeds,” she shook her head at him.

“Hey, look, y/n isn’t the one I initially aimed on taking down,”

“Then who??” she pushed her hair to the back in frustration.

“It’s that friend of hers! That stupid boy,” he said, his teeth gritting at the thought of Chani.

“Chani?? What have you got against that kid??”

“You don’t understand! I hate that kid,”

“Okay, then, why?” Soomin questions him. “Tell me, why do you hate him so much,”

“Tsk, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Then tell me, Bomin. I wouldn’t understand if you don’t say it,”

Bomin looks away now, avoiding his girlfriend’s eyes that were staring at him.

Soomin takes a deep breath in, releasing it slowly. She decides to maybe lessen the tension by now so she approaches Bomin and places her hand on his arm.

“Look, Bomin. When we got together, I was so happy. It’s never been this easy for me to open up to anyone, but with you, I was able to do so.” Soomin pauses. “And us being together, you should know that you can tell me anything. Tell me, and I’ll be the judge of your actions.” She continued.

Bomin looks back at his girlfriend, her doe-like eyes staring back into his. She looked less angry now, he thought. Though…should he just tell her why he did all of this?

 *

Whilst the couple were busy with their own matters in the main meeting room upstairs—the floors below were in chaos as the twelve boys (well, twelve plus one if we’re counting Chani) ran around in different directions in search of Y/n.

From the Ground floor to the 4th floor, footsteps of these boys can be heard throughout the hallways.

As for now, these are the whereabouts of the boys:

Ground Floor: Jeongwoo, Mashiho

1st Floor: Jihoon, Junkyu, Yedam

2nd Floor: Yoshi, Doyoung, Chani

3rd Floor: Junghwan, Jaehyuk, Asahi

4th Floor: Hyunsuk, Haruto

 *

YGE Building (Ground Floor)

“Jeongwoo, what are you doing there?” Mashiho asks as he notices the boy looking somewhat distracted. His eyes kept looking at the convenience mart not far from them.

Jeongwoo was still dressed in his school uniform. When he arrived at the building, he immediately ditched his schoolbag in their practice room and heads to where Jihoon had instructed them to be.

He had received a text from his hyungs in their group chat, about how they’re on the search for Y/n and that they had informed the maknaes whom were on their way back from school to help them search once they have arrived at the YG Building.

And so, based on the text from Jihoon hyung in the group, the person he was paired with was Mashiho-hyung. The both of them were stationed to search the Ground Floor of the building. But right now, Jeongwoo couldn’t help giving glances at the convenient store not far from where he was standing.

He knew that searching for you was important right now, but then he was also very hungry. He was supposed to have lunch with all his members but then their lunchtime was sacrificed in the quest of finding you.

Mashiho, who initially was guarding outside the entrance of the restrooms (in case you were hiding in there and would come out in all of a sudden), had decided to go and check on his younger friend after waiting up for 15 minutes.

Jeongwoo placed a hand on his own tummy, “Hyung…is it okay if I get some bread from the store? I kind of had a light snack during breaktime and well, I don’t think I can concentrate on the search feeling this hungry…,”

“Oh?” Mashiho looked at him in surprise. He turned around and looked at the store not far behind him. Jeongwoo does have a point though, he is a school kid, and he shouldn’t be skipping meals.

“Aigoo Jeongwoo-aa, come on, let’s get you something to eat. You’re a growing boy and you shouldn’t be skipping your meals!” he said as he drags Jeongwoo by his arm, taking the young boy towards the store with him.

 *

YGE Building (1st Floor / Cafeteria)

“What if Y/n is hiding underneath one of these many tables though??” Junkyu said, his head sticking underneath one of the unoccupied tables in the cafeteria.

Jihoon rubbed the temples on his head, “Junkyu-aa…everyone’s watching us…”

“Who cares if they’re watching us, we’re busy right now!”

Jihoon shakes his head, watching his best friend continue ducking underneath 2 more tables in front of him.

“Hyung! I’ve checked the restrooms, y/n isn’t in there,” Yedam said as he approached Jihoon.

Jihoon looks at him weirdly. “Wait, you checked the restrooms??”

Yedam nods at this, “Yes, I just said that,”

“Wait, no- you checked the restroom?? Checked?”

“I think he clearly said he checked the restrooms, hyung,” Junkyu replied, his head no longer underneath the tables.

“No, but—” Jihoon looks around, in case anyone was eavesdropping on them. Once he was sure people were no longer interested in their conversation, he continued, “Yedam, did you really check check the restrooms?”

Yedam nods again, but a bit slower now. He finds it strange that his Jihoon-hyung keeps on asking him the same thing.

Junkyu was already standing by both the other two boys’ side when he opened his mouth to say, “Hyung, why do you keep asking him if he checked the restrooms??”

“No, I meant,” Jihoon paused. He leaned in closer to the both of them and whispered, “when Yedam said he checked the restrooms…did he mean he checked the girls restroom too??”

Junkyu backed away from the both of them and covered his mouth with his palm. He lifted a finger and points at Yedam, “You entered the ladies restroom??”

Jihoon too, was staring at Yedam with a fearful look on his face.

“Oh my god hyung! That’s ridiculous!” Yedam answered them, his face holding in his laughter from seeing both of his hyungs’ faces. “I asked one of the lady staff that was passing by me to check in the ladies’ for me of course!”

Jihoon lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I mean, I know we’re searching for y/n but let’s not break any major rules here,” he chuckled.

Junkyu nods at this. “Hmm, true. Okay then, I’m gonna go check under more of the tables on that side—”

Before Junkyu could leave, Jihoon had grabbed him by his sleeve, “Okay Junkyu. Let’s not do that right now,” he chuckles nervously, noticing that people in the cafeteria are staring at them again since Junkyu sort of announced he was gonna look under people’s tables. I mean, that does sound suspicious and sort of creepy, no?

“Let’s just come back here once lunchtime is over for the staff. It won’t take long,” Jihoon said as he pulled Junkyu out of the cafeteria with him, and Yedam tagging along behind them.

 *

YGE Building (2nd Floor)

“For the 4th time, Chani-hyung, y/n isn’t in any of the hyungs’ studio rooms,” Doyoung argued towards Chani who kept urging them to check all their studio rooms.

“How will we know for sure? We haven’t checked those rooms,” Chani replied.

Yoshi shook his head as he watched the both of them argue for the past 15 minutes of their search.

As for now, they have checked all the big studio rooms, the resting areas along the hallways, but there was no sign of you.

“Damn, she’s still not picking up,” Chani muttered as he ends his attempt of calling you for the nth time now. Your phone wasn’t off, but it seems like you were avoiding to answer his calls.

Yoshi took out his phone and tried to dial your number as well.

Chani was right. He could hear your phone being on the line but you were purposely not picking up.

Yoshi sighs as he keeps the phone back into his pocket.

“Oh! There, we haven’t checked this row of studios,” Chani said as he points at a small hall leading to smaller studio rooms.

Doyoung shakes his head at his comment. “I told you hyung, we can’t barge into the hyungs’ studios simply. Besides, we’ve passed by this row already. Let’s just move on and check someplace else,”

“Okay but what if one of your hyungs are hiding y/n in their studio??”

“That’s…impossible?? We only knew y/n was missing when you told us, remember??”

Chani stopped in his tracks. “Oh, right.”

Doyoung rolled his eyes at him and turns to Yoshi. “Hyung, what do you think? Should we really check the others’ studios?”

“Huh? Oh uhh, I mean, you can check mine. I don’t mind.” Yoshi answered him.

“Nah, I don’t think Yoshi-hyung would hide y/n.” Chani said. “Oh, but can we go check Junkyu-hyung’s studio?”

Doyoung narrowed his eyes at Chani. “Why specifically Junkyu-hyung’s? Why not Asahi-hyung’s?”

“Aw come on. You guys know why,”

Yoshi and Doyoung looked at him blankly and shook their heads.

“Oh. You guys have no idea? That Junkyu and I are rivals…?”

“No…why are you both suddenly rivals? We’ve known you for almost two years now, hyung. I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned about being rivals with any of us,”

“Nothing. We just sort of became one recently,” Chani responded, deciding not to tell them about Junkyu and him both liking you, since he was pretty sure that the Treasure members would certainly support Junkyu to be with you rather than him.

“Okay, fine. If we’re not checking your members’ studios, then where should we head to now then?” Chani asked, a surrendering tone in his voice. He turns to Yoshi who hadn’t been saying much since the start of their team’s search. “Hyung? Any thoughts?”

“Me?” Yoshi points a finger at himself. Chani nods at him.

“I’d rather ask you then ask Doyoung here, he’d probably tell me to check the vents or something,” he added sarcastically.

“Hey, to be fair—y/n could be anywhere,” Doyoung retaliates, raising both his hands in defence.

“Okay, okay, kids.” Yoshi stepped in between the both of them, breaking the both of them from their glares at each other.

“Let’s just check the staircases, okay?” Yoshi said as he leads both the younger boys to follow him.

 *

YGE Building (3rd floor)

Junghwan walked ahead of his two other hyungs, his head turning left and right at every corner in case he might catch any glimpse of you.

“Junghwan, slow downnnn,” Jaehyuk whined as he trotted along, trying to keep up with the maknae.

Asahi on the other hand stayed on his own pace, way behind both those two.

Junghwan slowed down his steps and turned around to see his hyungs. “Sorry, hyung. I just—I’m worried about y/n-noona,”

“I know, I know. We get that.” Jaehyuk said as he finally arrives to where the maknae was standing. He turns around to see Asahi still walking, still making his way towards both him and Junghwan.

“Did Chani-hyung say anything about what happened though?” Junghwan asked, since his case was similar with Jeongwoo and Doyoung; in which he too, just got back from school and was texted to join in the search once he arrives at the building.

“I don’t think he got around to it. He was all panicky and Junkyu-hyung was already exiting the practice room before we got to hear further on what happened.”

“Oh,”

“Hm but Chani did mention about Bomin-hyung ‘doing it again’? Something along those lines,” Jaehyuk added, in which Junghwan responded by nodding his head.

“Why’d you guys stop? You both can go on first, you know,” Asahi’s voice suddenly popped up, him finally arriving to where the both of them were standing at.

Jaehyuk wrapped his arm around Asahi’s shoulder and snickered, “Aigoo, what are you talking about? Let’s just walk together,”

“Yeah but I don’t see the point in running around,”

“Okay, okay. We won’t run. We’ll walk. Maybe sprint a little,” Junghwan suggested.

Asahi pushes his own hair to the back with one of his hands. “Okay but I can’t promise you I’ll be fast enough for the sprint,”

“No problem hyung,” Junghwan smiled. He turned back to the front, wanting to proceed with his steps but then Jaehyuk called out to him again.

“Junghwan-aa, at least leave your bag in the practice room before we continue searching,”

“Oh? Oh right,” he responded, realising that he was still carrying his bagpack from school when he arrived here.

 *

YGE Building (4th Floor)

Haruto and Hyunsuk were in charge of roaming and searching the 4th floor, as directed by Jihoon.

Jihoon had only stationed them all up till the 4th floor because he was pretty convinced that you wouldn’t go somewhere that would have most of the YG staffs were working at. And seeing that the 5th and 6th floors were always somehow occupied by the staffs, Jihoon assured everyone into not searching the floors above.

Being the only two that were stationed at the top floor compared to the rest, the two didn’t feel the need to run around or hurry like the rest.

Haruto stretches his arms out in the air as he walked beside his Hyunsuk-hyung.

“Hmm, it’s almost deserted up here. I don’t think y/n would be up here,” Hyunsuk complained.

“True,” Haruto nods in agreement.

Hyunsuk’s head looked around as he walks leisurely, stopping by to peek over the small windows of any of the meeting rooms they passed by.

“Oh? That’s the last of the meeting rooms,” Haruto points out, noticing that they had arrived at the far end of the floor, where a large lounge area was located.

“Huh?” Hyunsuk said as he stares at the empty lounge area in disappointment. He was expecting to have found you somewhere on this floor though, considering it would have been the best place to be away from people since it’s this deserted.

Hyunsuk lets out a sigh and turns around.

“Hyung, where are you going?”

“Back to the elevators. Come on. Obviously y/n isn’t up here,”

Haruto followed closely by him. He peeks a glance at his hyung and notices his gloomy expression.

“You that sad she’s not up here?” the younger boy asked.

“Kinda. I was hoping to find her up here. I just…want to make sure she’s okay, that’s all,”

Haruto kept quiet as he walked beside his hyung. He decided to just follow Hyunsuk and not say anything else since Hyunsuk looked like he needed some time for himself.

They kept walking at a relaxed pace, passing by multiple meeting rooms, until they reached the first one that wasn’t far from the elevators.

Haruto stopped in front of the meeting room.

“Ruto? What’s wrong?”

“Isn’t this Y/n’s meeting room last week?” Haruto said as he points at the room with his finger.

Hyunsuk tilts his head, wondering how this boy knows which meeting room this was.

Haruto turned to look at his hyung and noticed his puzzled expression. “No, I didn’t know this too, but take a look at this window here,”

Hyunsuk moved to where Haruto and stared at the window showing the inside of the meeting room. “There’s no one in there, Haruto,”

Haruto shook his head and pulled his hyung to stand in his spot, moving him to stand at a certain angle too.

“There. Look inside. There’s a whiteboard way behind there. Read what it says,”

Hyunsuk squints his eyes to read the handwritten words on the whiteboard.

‘Y/n is the best tutor ever!’ ‘I like Y/n so much’ ‘Will Y/n go out with me?’

Hyunsuk snorts at the sentences, imagining how cringey it must have been for you to have a student that disturbs you like that. He wondered who your student was—and then his eyes read the smaller note written at the end of the board—

‘Chani please get back to your seat and complete your module.’

Hyunsuk covered his mouth with his hand, realising how Junkyu must’ve felt before this. He suddenly felt annoyed at how Chani was literally throwing himself at you, when you were his tutor. The least that kid could do was be professional, no? No wonder Junkyu got jealous, he thought.

“Oh? It’s Junghwan,” Haruto said, making Hyunsuk turn around to see the boy leaning against the rails that was facing the open space of the building.

Hyunsuk approached the rails as well, noticing Junghwan, Jaehyuk and Asahi heading towards a room directly opposite him but only a floor lower.

Wait—

The room they’re heading towards was their own dance practice room! Which means…that…from up here, y/n could have been watching over them. OR. Could it be? Could it be that Junkyu had been watching over you and Chani from down there before this?

 *

(2nd Floor Team)

Yoshi opened up the door to the staircases exit, leading the other two younger boys behind him.

“Huh? Something smells…good,” Doyoung said, his nose sniffing at the strong scent.

Chani too, agrees as he placed a hand on his own tummy, “Yeah, it’s making me super hungry now,”

Yoshi tried sniffing the air around them and sure enough, he could catch a whiff of something yummy…

He turns around to the rest, “Should we go down and check?”

“I mean, there’s no harm in checking out what’s down there, no?” Doyoung replies with a shrug.

“Yeah, and if there are people cooking or selling stuff down there, there’s no harm in buying some too,” Chani added, agreeing with Doyoung.

Yoshi smiles, finding it funny how the both of these kids were against each other’s ideas before this but suddenly they teamed up to defend something that involves food.

“And, and—we need energy to look for y/n, so—we should definitely get something to eat, right?” Doyoung said this time.

“Right!!!” Chani agreed excitedly as he pulled Doyoung’s hand to give it a high-five. Doyoung smiled a little, amused with Chani’s excitement.

“Alright, alright. Let’s just head down,” Yoshi said as he smiles while shaking his head at the two.

 *

(3rd Floor’s Team)

Junghwan tapped his foot, waiting for the ever-slow elevator to reach their floor.

“What’s taking it so long, though? We’ve never had any elevator traffic before this,” Junghwan said.

Jaehyuk pulled out his phone from his pocket to check the time. “Ahh, no wonder. Lunchtime is almost over. I’m pretty sure most of the staff are returning to their offices early too,”

“Whoa, we’ve been searching for almost an hour huh?”

“Yup,”

Junghwan stopped tapping his foot and started pacing to and fro in front of the elevator doors. Almost one hour and still no Y/n-noona?? Not even any news from his other hyungs too. Just where could you be?

“Hey,” Asahi’s voice said, making both Junghwan and Jaehyuk look at him.

“Yes, Asahi?” Jaehyuk asked, keeping his phone into his pants pocket.

Asahi lifts his finger and points at a door located not too far on their left.

Jaehyuk and Junghwan turns their attention towards where he was pointing at.

“You guys…wanna take the stairs instead?” He asked.

Junghwan exchanged looks with his Jaehyuk-hyung. The both of them shrug at each other.

“Sure, that doesn’t sound too bad of an idea,” Junghwan said.

Jaehyuk grinned and pats Asahi’s head, “Aigoo, our Asahi is the smartest as always! We could use the stairs instead of waiting for this snail-like elevator!”

Asahi smiles shyly at the praise. He shrugs and points at the staircase door again. “Let’s go,”

 *

(1st Floor’s Team)

“Quick, the staff are starting to leave the cafeteria! Now’s our chance!” Junkyu urged as he watches the staff shuffling out of the cafeteria doors.

Jihoon hurriedly grabbed him by his shirt before he could go scurrying off and causing a scene, “Okay, okay calm down now kiddo,”

“Let’s just give them a minute or two before we enter. At least let the entrance clear off first,” Yedam said as he glanced over the time on his phone.

 Meanwhile…

(Staircase Loft)

“I must be getting hungry or something. I keep smelling fried mandu and ramen,” Junghwan whined as he stepped down the stairs, leading Asahi and Jaehyuk who were both behind him.

‘Kruuungggg’

Junghwan stopped in his tracks, making Jaehyuk almost bumping into him from the sudden stop.

“Is there something wrong?” Jaehyuk asked him.

Junghwan shook his head and looked over Jaehyuk’s shoulder, where Asahi was almost hidden by the hyung’s taller figure.

“What?” Asahi asked.

“Are you…hungry, hyung?” Junghwan asked.

Asahi’s cheeks went pink with embarrassment as it turns out that the maknae had heard his tummy rumbling couple of seconds ago.

“Hey, you keep mentioning about food—it’s impossible not to be hungry,” Asahi said in defence.

“No, but seriously, I do smell ramen broth in this area. And it keeps getting stronger too,” Junghwan said as he continued stepping down the steps, making his way down again.

“You know what…I smell it too now,” Jaehyuk said.

“Huh, we must be really hungry, huh? What floor are we at now?”

Asahi peeked over the sign he passed by just now, “1st floor. We’re almost at the Ground Floor.”

“Okay, nice! Hyung, can we stop by the convenience store and grab some snacks when we reach the bottom floor later?” Junghwan asked Jaehyuk since he was the eldest among them three.

“Sure! There’s no problem in that!” Jaehyuk grinned as he ruffles the maknae’s hair, thinking that the kid was cute for asking him permission for such a small matter.

Junghwan smiled happily and continued leading them all down the stairs, his steps quickening at the thought of reaching downstairs to buy some food from the convenience store.

He was almost-running as he walks down the steps when once again, he stops—a loud gasp escaping his mouth.

This time, Jaehyuk really bumped into Junghwan’s back, making the boy almost falling down the stairs—in which Jaehyuk managed to grab a hold of him before the boy fell forward.

“Hey, hey, be careful Junghwan-aa! Omg what if you really fell??”

Jaehyuk wondered why the younger boy wasn’t responding to him, so he stepped forward in front of the boy to see what made him stop in shock. “Oh??”

“What…are you doing down here??” Junghwan asked, his voice echoing in the stairs loft.

 *

(1st Floor Team)

“I’ve checked the whole right side of the cafeteria and asked the kitchen staffs—no sign of y/n here,” Yedam reported to Jihoon who just got back from checking the rooftop balcony outside the cafeteria.

“Alright. Thanks for your hard work, Yedam,”

Jihoon turns to look at the left side of the cafeteria where Junkyu was running clumsily towards him, almost hitting over a chair that wasn’t tucked underneath one of the tables.

“Kim Junkyu be careful—”

“I’m here!” Junkyu announced even though no one asked for it.

Jihoon chuckled seeing his best friend’s serious expression despite his usual funny run seconds ago.

“Any sign of y/n?” Yedam asked the round-eyed hyung that just arrived.

Junkyu shook his head. “No, but someone dropped a dollar underneath one of the chairs,” He waved the dollar up in his friends’ faces.

“Oooh nice! You can keep that,” Jihoon gave him a thumbs up.

“Nah, I’m gonna find the lost and found box and put it there,”

“…but…we don’t have a lost and found box…” Yedam looked at him.

Junkyu lets out a loud gasp. “What? Then how would people find their lost items??”

“First of all—that’s why we have to be extra attentive and careful with our belongings,” Jihoon advised both the younger boys.

“Oh and not lose focus,” Yedam added.

Jihoon nods at this.

“Hyung…are you both forgetting?? We’re not here to discuss lost and found?? We’re looking for y/n,”

“Oh right! I almost forgot!” Junkyu said in shock.

“What about you, Jihoon-hyung? Did you find any traces of y/n outside?”

Jihoon shook his head to Yedam’s question. “Nope. Just empty untouched seats and the cool breeze outside.”

“Did you check under the tables??” Junkyu asked.

Both Jihoon and Yedam looked at him, questioning what he said.

“Hey, I told you guys—don’t skip checking underneath the tables,”

Jihoon shrugs at him. “Okay Junkyu. I’ll make sure to check every inch and corner next time,”

“Well, we’ve been looking for over an hour now. And I’m pretty sure the kids are hungry since they just got back from school.” Yedam paused to look at Jihoon before asking, “Let’s take a break?”

“Sure. We can resume searching once we’ve all eaten,” Jihoon agreed. “Text the group and tell them we’ll meet at the convenience store downstairs,”

“On it.” Yedam quickly pulled out his phone, his fingers tapping fast on the screen.

Jihoon and Yedam were about to leave the cafeteria when Jihoon realised that Junkyu wasn’t following them.

“Junkyu? You alright?” He asked the bright-eyed boy that kept looking in the direction of the cafeteria’s balcony door.

“Huh? Oh, uhh,” he stammered, surprised by Jihoon calling his name.

“You coming with us?”

“I…think I’ll join you guys in a bit. I want to go check outside for a while,”

Jihoon lets out a sigh. “Junkyu-aa. You need to eat first. Besides, I told you, nobody is out there,”

“But you didn’t check under the tables!”

“Fine. Go check then. Just meet us downstairs and get something to eat, okay?” Jihoon sighs again, giving up and not wanting to argue with his best friend.

 *

YGE Building (Cafeteria – Rooftop Balcony)

Junkyu opens the door leading outside slowly. The cool breeze from outside made his skin shiver for a couple seconds before he managed to adapt to the weather outside the building.

As he steps outside, his eyes roamed around the place where he first encountered you and Chani when you first started working on the workshop in this company.

Jihoon was right. The place was neat, tidy, untouched. It’s almost as if no one has ever stepped out here. Ah, but then who would? The weather has been chilly nowadays now that it’s late autumn and staying out here for too long could really do bad for one’s health.

Junkyu sighs. Maybe he should just go inside and meet the rest of the gang.

Junyku turned his heels, about to leave when suddenly he stopped.

Ah, right! He should at least check under the tables.

And so, Junkyu got on all fours and ducked his head to look underneath the row of tables on his right.

“Oh?” he muttered as he noticed something placed at the far end table. It really seemed like it was probably just his imagination, but he could feel that something was indeed underneath that table at the end—even if he can’t see clearly because of the chairs.

He got up on his feet and hurried to the spot—stopping, and slowly lowering his body to see what was underneath the table.

“Wait—” he said, when he noticed what was underneath the table. He extends his finger to check if it’s cold, his finger retracting as soon as he realised how cold it felt against his skin.

“W-wait, what should I do?” He muttered to himself, panic rising.

Junkyu shakes his head. He has to do something. Anything. And he has to act fast.

 *To be continued…*

[bytheangell]

Hanging By a Moment

Whumptober 2020 prompt: held at gunpoint (Read on AO3)

Magnus is standing alone outside the restaurant when, through the thin fabric of his shirt, he feels the distinct press of cold metal against his back. Every muscle in his body tenses at once - he doesn’t need to be able to see what it is to instinctively know what’s happening.

“Don’t move, don’t yell,” a deep voice orders, then waits a few seconds to make sure Magnus is going to comply. He does, remaining silent and still. “Now turn around, hands where I can see them. Don’t try anything stupid.”

Magnus does as he’s told, but very slowly, trying to buy himself time to think. A million thoughts rush through his mind, but two stand out more than the others. The first is that Alec is going to walk outside and see this, and that is not going to go well. The second is that he’s in real danger here. Actual, life-threatening danger, from something so goddamn mundane as a street robbery.

On any other day - hell, even on this day about four hours prior - Magnus could’ve used his magic to easily disarm a mundane man with a gun. But now, after using every last drop of his magic between a demanding spell for a client and a surprise demon attack he hadn’t expected to help the Shadowhunters with, Magnus is tapped out. That’s why he’s walking home with Alec instead of portaling, and why they’re buying food on the way instead of snapping it into the apartment, ready to go.

Magnus isn’t sure he'd be able to flick the weapon away if he tried, and he certainly couldn’t raise a solid enough barrier in front of him if the man shoots.

Apparently, Magnus isn’t turning fast enough: rough hands grab him by the shoulder and force Magnus around to face his assailant. It’s already difficult to see in the dark, with the neon of the restaurant sign the only light between distant streetlamps. Whoever it is only has their eyes visible, the rest of their face obscured by a hat and bandana tied over their nose and mouth - not that Magnus is paying much attention to aesthetics. His eyes are drawn to the barrel of the gun pointed at him instead, and he wonders if this is how his centuries of life will come to an end. Decades of war and battles and standing up against more injustices than he can list, facing down other warlocks, werewolves and vampires and Nephilim and literal demons… he survived all of that, and a mundane being hard-up for cash may be what finally ends the life of Magnus Bane.

“I don’t have much on me,” Magnus admits, which is true. “There’s some cash in my wallet. I can grab it for you-” Magnus lowers his hands to reach for his wallet, only to pull them back up by his head when the man takes a step closer.

“No! Hands up,” the robber says, just as the door behind Magnus opens and he tenses all over again, knowing exactly who walked out.

“Alexander, darling, I’m going to advise you to stay there, please.” It takes every last ounce of self-control for him to not turn back around and look at Alec.

Magnus hears Alec take a step forward anyway, and the gun shifts from Magnus to a spot over his shoulder, which is exactly what Magnus was afraid of. The gunman is jumpy now, outnumbered even though Magnus’ hands are empty and Alec’s are full of takeout bags.

“How about we all take a second and calm down,” Magnus advises, partially for his own benefit considering the fact that his heartbeat has doubled, if not tripled, in pace since Alec stepped outside. At least now the gun is trained back on him instead of Alec.

Magnus isn’t sure if Alec’s strength and speed runes are active from the fight still, or if he’d have time to activate them or be able to beat a bullet if he tries to make a move. What Magnus is sure of is that he’d rather not find out the answer.

He’s very aware that having a gun aimed at him being the best option is not saying much for the current situation.

“Magnus-” Alec’s voice is strained and frightened, and Magnus is actually glad he can’t see his face right now because he isn’t sure he could handle whatever expression he’d find there. He can probably count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Alec visibly ruffled, and every time was over an injured sibling. It’s a look he doesn’t think he could stomach seeing on Alec here and now, because of him, and especially not if Magnus being the cause of Alec’s worry makes him try something foolishly heroic.

“I’m fine,” Magnus cuts in, not wanting the attention back on Alec. “We’re all fine. Just take the goddamn wallet and go,” Magnus snaps, now also on edge in a way he wasn’t before Alec was in danger, too. Magnus nods toward his right side and the man, gun still in hand, steps forward to reach into Magnus’ pants pocket and pull out the wallet.

Magnus is conscious of the sound of bags crackling behind him, Alec’s grip on them likely tightening anxiously. He doesn’t turn around to confirm and instead keeps a neutral, placating expression that never leaves the masked man.

The robber eyes them both, maybe wondering what else he can get off the two of them, when the sound of voices at the other end of the street spook him, and he takes off instead.

Magnus watches him go until he’s certain the guy isn’t going to change his mind and turn back around, and then in a very undignified moment his knees go weak and Alec drops the takeout bags to the ground to catch Magnus before he falls.

“Magnus!” Alec says, supporting Magnus before moving them both to a bench a few feet away. “Are you alright?”

“Physically, yes. My pride, on the other hand-” Magnus tries to joke, but the tremor in his voice gives away how shaken up by the event he truly is.

“Let me call Cat, she can portal us home and-”

“No,” Magnus says, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. I think that was just a moment of shock. I just… need a minute.”

“You’re shaking,” Alec points out as if Magnus isn’t aware. His hands are trembling as much as his legs even though he’s sitting down. “I should-”

“One fucking minute, Alexander, please,” Magnus snaps, and Alec falls silent and still beside him. Magnus takes a few deep breaths, willing his body to stop betraying him like this.

“I’m sorry,” are the first words he says once his voice is level again, his pulse no longer racing. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed,” Alec dismisses. “What do you need?”

They’ve had this talk before, when Magnus needs a moment to think something through before making an important decision, even if it’s an emergency, or when he’s upset and needs a moment to distance himself from whatever’s upsetting him before reacting. Having people toss out offers and suggestions is too overwhelming - asking him what he needs seems to work best, which is exactly what Alec does now.

They’re both going through an ordeal, and Magnus obviously doesn’t blame Alec for being a little too insistent in trying to help him.

“Nothing. I really just needed a moment,” Magnus promises. He’s fine. Alec’s fine. He won’t miss the wallet or the money inside (though he will miss several of the personal photos kept within). He’s safe, and Alec is safe, and that’s all that matters.

“I wouldn’t have let him hurt you, Magnus,” Alec says, bringing a hand up to cup Magnus’ cheek so he’s forced to look at him, to see the serious expression on his face and the weight of that promise. “I hung back because you said to, but if he made a move…” Alec takes a deep breath to keep himself from getting too worked up over what-ifs. “You know I’ll always protect you, Magnus.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Magnus mutters under his breath, not really meaning for Alec to hear him but the words come out a bit louder than he intends in his bitterness.

“Of course I should-” “I should be able to protect myself! Hell, I should be able to protect both of us, and instead, I was useless back there!” Magnus says, and though his tone is sharp it’s obviously not anger aimed at Alec, but at himself.

“You weren’t useless,” Alec insists. “You de-escalated a situation that could’ve ended with someone hurt, or dead. And the only reason your magic is tapped out is because you came to protect me earlier. I don’t know about you, but none of that seems particularly ‘useless’ to me.”

Magnus knows there’s truth to Alec’s words, even if he can’t bring himself to feel properly comforted by them - not while his fight-or-flight instincts are still on high alert on the city street, half-expecting the man to come back and prove Magnus right by finishing what he started.

Magnus’ eyes drift to the bags of takeout on the pavement, the contents of the broken containers soaking through the bag and spilling out onto the ground. “Looks like we need new food,” he frowns. “But…”

“What is it?” Alec asks.

It feels ridiculous to admit that he’s still shaken up enough that the idea of staying out longer without his magic is seriously distressing. He knows Alec won’t judge, but at this point, Magnus is judging himself. He’s better than this - he should be better than this. He’s been in situations like this before, situations much more dangerous than the one he was just in... but never without his magic, and that’s what makes all the difference. Sure, Alec probably could’ve taken the guy, but it’s the fact that Magnus couldn’t - that he froze in the moment - that bothers him.

“I don't particularly want to be out any longer than we have to right now,” Magnus confesses. “I don’t want a portal,” he adds quickly because as uncomfortable as he is, they're only a few blocks away at this point. Realistically, he knows that standing next to Alec makes the chance of anyone trying to get the jump on the both of them much more unlikely. “But I’d rather not make any detours.”

Alec hesitates slightly, and Magnus knows him well enough to know he’s debating suggesting they call Cat again despite Magnus’ insistence not to. It’d be endearing if Magnus’ nerves weren’t frayed to the point of snapping. 

“If that’s what you want,” Alec agrees at length, resigning himself to following Magnus’ lead whether he agrees with it or not. “We aren’t far from the Loft, let’s get back and order delivery?” Alec offers. He doesn’t stand to leave yet, waiting for Magnus to answer first before doing anything.

“Yeah, okay,” Magnus agrees, standing up from the bench. His legs still feel a little shaky, but he doesn’t wobble. “That sounds good.”

Alec wraps his arm around Magnus’ waist and pulls him in close, an action that’s equal parts protective and comforting. For a moment Magnus nearly pulls away, instinctively wanting to prove that he’s fine enough to handle himself again. And he is… except he doesn’t want to pull away.

Instead, Magnus allows himself to lean into the touch, embracing those feelings of support and safety and doing his best not to feel weak for needing them.

[allsassnoclass]

The Inherent Domesticity of Target’s Home Decor Section

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood Rating: Teen Word Count: 2076 Read on AO3

Michael has mixed feelings about Target.  On one hand, Target is better than Walmart, and he appreciates that they get to design different album covers and sell special editions there.  On the other hand, walking into Target makes him feel like he should have his life together more.  That’s not to say that his life is a disaster; his life is actually pretty great, and he feels like a fully functioning adult.  However, the store still gives him the niggling feeling that he should buy a planner and some post-it notes and turn into a suburban mom.

“Do you think I should buy a planner?” he asks.  Calum hums, reading the back of a DVD that’s on sale for $5.  When he shifts to put it back on the shelf, Michael shifts right with him, arms around his stomach and cheek plastered against his shoulder.  It’s earlier in the morning than Michael would like, so Calum gets the privilege of holding him up as punishment for dragging him out into the world at this time of day.

“Why do you need a planner?  Ashton takes care of that stuff for the band,” Calum says.  He picks up another DVD and flips it over.

“Yeah, but maybe I should put down everyone’s birthday or something,” he says.  Calum snorts and Michael pinches his side, because he’s apologized for forgetting his birthday that one time sincerely and profusely and gave Calum a pretty spectacular blowjob to make up for it.

“Would you even use it?” Calum asks.  Michael considers and has to concede his point.

They look at DVDs for a few more minutes because Calum gets a kick out of what a place like Target choses to stock in their meger selection.  Michael lets him slip some animated thing he thinks he watched once as a kid into the basket, content to stand there while Calum takes his time and just breathe him in.  He loves being close to Calum, letting his familiar smell fill his nostrils and leeching body heat.  He lets their breathing sync up and imagines that he can hear his heartbeat, slow and steady and almost putting him to sleep standing up.

Nowhere feels like home quite like Calum does.  Even in the middle of Target, Michael feels better than he ever has alone in his house.  It makes him wonder why he’s even living alone, and why Calum pulled away and they stopped messing around when neither of them have girlfriends.

The bottom line is that he misses Calum nearly every moment they’re apart, but he doesn’t know how to articulate this without the crushing fear of rejection.  Calum loves him, and he knows that a significant part of Calum’s world revolves around Michael, but that doesn’t mean they necessarily love each other in the same way.  Michael wants grocery shopping and kisses and late night cuddles regardless of if they have somewhere to be in the morning and lazy sex and laughing at each other’s ridiculousness so hard that he can’t breathe.  Calum wants a platonic best friend.

“What else do we still need to get?” Calum asks, shaking Michael out of his reverie.

“Toothpaste, I think.  And vitamins.”

“Look at you, being healthy and shit.”

Michael pokes his side and Calum tries to wriggle away, giggling because Michael knows exactly which spot tickles the most.

“Just because I don’t let Ashton drag me to yoga like you do doesn’t mean I’m unhealthy.  I get the most sleep out of any of us and I drink a fuckton of water.”

“I know, I know,” Calum says.  “Want to check the CDs?”

It’s a distraction tactic, because Michael will always check the one-shelf CD selection, especially so soon after one of their own releases.  Michael makes the conscious decision to allow himself to be distracted.

“Okay.  CDs, then toothpaste, then vitamins, then I want to look at the home decor.”

“What do you want to look at the home decor for?”

Michael shrugs, knowing that Calum can feel it.  There’s just no non-incriminating way to say I like to see your reactions and pretend that we’re picking out stuff for our house because I might be fully in love with you and I want you in every single crevice of my life.

That’s the issue with Target: it makes him feel domestic and long for things he can’t have.

“Excuse me?” a new voice says, and Michael first feels a twinge of annoyance at someone interrupting his moment and then a twinge of panic that it could be a fan when he definitely doesn’t have the emotional or physical energy to put on a public persona.  One look at the owner of the voice dispels that notion.  The woman is on the later side of middle-aged and looks pretty much exactly like the kind of woman who cooks meatloaf and has 3 cats and actually does go to Target to buy planners.  As inclusive as the band tries to make their music, Michael can admit that she’s not exactly in their immediate wheelhouse for fans.  Nevertheless, he straightens up a bit, but the woman is smiling so he thinks he can maybe get away with still locking his arms around Calum’s waist.

“Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to say that you boys make such a cute couple!  It’s so nice to see young people in love.”

Michael stiffens, but Calum puts a hand on his arm, effectively anchoring him in place before he can pull away.

“Thank you.  It’s nice to be in love,” Calum says, and Michael’s breath stutters in his throat.

The woman beams and for a moment Michael thinks she’s going to reach out and pinch Calum’s cheeks, but she just bids them a good day and continues towards the books.

“CDs?” Calum asks, casual as anything.  Michael nods and fully pulls away, not trusting himself to speak or to touch.

It was just a nice thing to say to a romantic woman, but it’s nice to be in love plays on repeat in his head like a broken record.  He knows, he knows that it doesn’t mean anything, but Michael would give almost anything to have it be the truth.

There are five copies of the Target exclusive edition of CALM on the shelf.  There’s also a Neil Diamond greatest hits collection and a few random soundtracks that Calum points out, but Michael can barely focus.  He kind of wants to skip the toothpaste and go straight home, but he also doesn’t want Calum to question why that small interaction with the woman threw him so off kilter.  By the time they make it through the checkout and back to Michael’s car, he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin.

Calum waits until they’re out of the parking lot to start talking.

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable earlier.  That wasn’t my intention.  I just figured that was the easiest response.  I know we’re not--I know we don’t do that anymore.”

In a different world where Michael hasn’t kept a very tight lid on his feelings for his best friend for the past eight years, he would have crashed the car.

“I know,” he says instead.  Silence fills the space, heavy and uncomfortable.  Michael keeps his eyes resolutely on the road and tries not to read too much into how Calum keeps taking a breath as if he wants to talk before cutting himself off.

“And I understand,” Calum says suddenly, almost causing Michael to swerve.  “I understand why we’re not together anymore.”

“What,” Michael says.

“I’m not trying to get you back, or whatever.  I know you don’t think of me like that.”

“That I don’t--” Michael chokes.  “I’m sorry, what?”

“Come on, don’t make me say it,” Calum says, shifting in his seat.

“No, hang on.  I don’t understand what you’re saying to me right now.”

“Mike, stop it.  Now you’re just being mean.”

“Calum, you’re the one who pulled away from me.  Personally, I don’t understand why we’re not together anymore.  I didn’t even know that we were!”

“That’s bullshit!  What did you think we were, if not together?”

“I don’t know, fucking around?  I thought we stopped because you got bored of me.”

“Michael, we stopped because we got asked about ships in an interview and you got really weird about it.”

“Yeah, because I’ve been in love with you for half my life!”

Silence descends, and Michael absolutely cannot look at Calum right now.  The only things that exist are the steering wheel in his grip and the strip of road in front of him.  There’s still a good ten minutes until he reaches his house, and Michael is very content to spend those ten minutes pretending like he is alone and has not just revealed his biggest secret during an argument that he still doesn’t quite understand.

“Pull over.”

No such luck, apparently.

“Michael, pull over right now.”

He eases over and puts the car in park, letting his hands fall into his lap.

“You’re in love with me?” Calum asks.  Michael nods.  “We’re so stupid.”

“What?” Michael asks, finally looking over at Calum.  He doesn’t look uncomfortable or sad, he looks exasperated.  Michael isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean.

“We’re idiots.  We could’ve been happily dating this whole time.  Hell, we probably could’ve been married by now,” Calum says.  “I’m in love with you, too.”

Michael blinks at him and really wishes his brain was operating a bit faster.

“Calum,” he says, for lack of anything else.

“Michael,” Calum grins right back.

“Are you serious?” he asks.  Calum rolls his eyes.

“Why would I joke about this?”

Michael shrugs helplessly.

“Michael,” Calum says seriously.  “I made you park the car.  We just had a conversation that obviously made you uncomfortable.  Why the fuck would I be joking right now?”

Michael shrugs helplessly again.

“You love me?” he asks.  Calum reaches over and grabs one of his hands.

“I’m head over heels, crazy in love with you.  It’s pathetic.  It’s ridiculous.  I want to jump you in this car right now.”

Michael laughs.

“Not in broad daylight,” he says.  Calum smiles in a way that makes something settle in Michael’s stomach, something that he hadn’t realized had been unsettled ever since they stopped seeing each other.

Fuck.  He’s so lucky.

“I’m in love with you, too,” he says.  Calum’s smile widens.

“I know,” he says.  “You just told me that.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you again.”

“Well, I’m in love with you, too.”

They’re talking in circles now--wonderful, love-sick circles--and Michael is thankful for multiple reasons when Calum breaks it by leaning over the center console to kiss him.  Calum’s lips are familiar under his, and even after months without feeling them Michael has them memorized.  This kiss feels different, though.  There’s a surety to it that they haven’t had before, a question and agreement that thrills him.

“You’re sure you don’t want to roll around in the back seat right now?” Calum asks softly when they part.  Michael grins and knocks their foreheads together.

“You’re funny,” he says.  “Ha, ha.”

Calum kisses him again.  Michael could definitely get used to this.  If their previous conversation is any indication, he’ll have plenty of time and opportunity to get used to this.

This time when the kiss breaks, Calum fully leans back rather than keep breathing his air.

“Okay,” he says.  “Let’s go home, Michael.  We’ve got years of a honeymoon phase to catch up on.”

Michael puts the car in drive and eases back onto the road.  They’ll have time to drive around again later, because Michael definitely wants to do another circuit of the Target home decor section with this new revelation.  Maybe he’ll try to find a card for the woman who confused them for a couple, just in case they happen to run into her by the post-it notes or planners.

Either way, Michael thinks that Target might be his favorite store now.  He glances at Calum to find him already looking at him and his chest warms.

Yeah, Target is definitely his favorite store, but he’d be okay with never setting foot in it again if it meant he could keep spending time with his favorite person.

Thankfully, the way that Calum leans over to kiss him at a red light seems to mean that he agrees.

[aellynera]

Restrained (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x Reader)

RESTRAINED

(i just do what my brain tells me to, guys. it wouldn’t shut up until i wrote this.)

Word Count: 2660

Summary: Santiago issues a challenge. Purely innocent of course. But to be fair, those should not have been in the supply closet.

Warnings: Little bit o’ language.

(with prompts: “do it. i dare you.”; “how about a hug, hm?”; “is this your first time?”)

Santiago Garcia walked back into the munitions room with two more canvas duffel bags and threw them on the small counter. “Hey, got more bags.”

“Thanks,” you replied, turning around to grab one. You almost bumped into him in the close quarters. “You load ammo, I’ll check and load the weapons?”

He nodded in agreement, grabbed the other bag and started packing it. You worked in a comfortable silence.

It was more of a closet than a room, really, but it had all the fun toys you needed for your next mission. So here you were in over 100 degree heat, in a teeny room, getting things ready to go. You puffed a piece of stray hair off your forehead and wondered if the temperature in the small room wasn’t just being caused by the brilliant sunshine outside.

You side-eyed your partner, noting (not for the first time) that it wasn’t fair for him to look that good in fatigue pants, dark grey tank, and combat boots. The thin sheen of sweat on his brow as he worked only added to the effect. You felt the tips of your ears start to color and turned back to concentrate on the rack of artillery in front of you.

Pope was giving you some side-eye too, but he was equally subtle about it. You were dressed the same as he was, only your tank was olive green and he thought you wore it better. He turned his attention back to the ammo crates next to him.

You had worked together for two years, after both being assigned to operations in Colombia. One semi-drunken night not long after you’d arrived at base, you had bonded with the group you fondly called The Boys, Pope in particular. You just had an easy-going back-and-forth, he was easy to talk to, and you’d had some similar experiences in both your families that helped to deepen your connection. You considered him your best friend; he felt the same.

The Boys, much to your annoyance, had a bet going on how long it would take you and Pope to get together. It was no secret they all thought you would make the perfect couple, or at least the perfect hookup. Both of you laughed it off. It was not a time to even consider having a relationship, much less with your best friend.

Not that you hadn’t actually considered it. More than once. Okay, maybe a lot. And neither of you would even consider that the other might have done the same. You were best friends.

Suddenly his short, sharp laugh broke the silence. “What in the hell?”

You looked over and saw him holding up something silver. Definitely not a weapon or ammo. You squinted, huffing that damn piece of hair out of your eyes again.

“Are those...handcuffs?”

Pope sounded a mix between amused and surprised. “Um, yeah.”

“Santi,” you tilted your head. “Why do you have a pair of handcuffs?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. They were just here in the ammo crate.”

“That’s incredibly odd,” you chuckled. “Why would we have any use for handcuffs?”

Pope laughed full-on at that. You reached over and swatted at him. “That’s not what I meant, you ass. I know what handcuffs are for.” Okay, so you really were trying to get your work done, but you couldn’t help joking with him. It was just what you did.

He looked at the handcuffs in his hand, then up at you. One side of his mouth lifted in a smirk and he raised an eyebrow. 

You took a step back and pursed your lips. You knew that look. That look was never good. That look meant trouble and shenanigans when you were not inside a munitions closet, and probably meant exactly the same thing inside one, knowing how Santiago worked. And you knew how he worked. He might be a master tactician and an exceptional soldier, but his sense of humor and penchant for mischief was definitely off-kilter and somewhat juvenile at times. You could almost see the thoughts forming in his head.

“Seriously, Pope? We need to finish packing this shit up and get it loaded. We leave in two hours. Put the cuffs down and get back to it,” you said sternly.

He paused a second, but his expression didn’t change. “What if…”

Your heart suddenly vaulted up into your throat. The room was getting warmer.

“What if we make a bet? I bet you can’t finish packing that bag in less than five minutes if you’re cuffed.”

Now your heart was almost oozing out of your ears. You put on the blankest expression you could muster. “I’m sorry...what?”

“You can’t pack that bag in less than five minutes while you’re cuffed,” Pope repeated, more of a challenge this time. He took a step closer.

“What’s the wager?” you asked, trying to sound normal. It was...sort of working.

Pope thought for a moment. He pulled his bottom lip with his teeth as he did so. “Okay, if you win, then I pick up your KP for a month. If I win...I take you into town for dinner and dancing next time we have leave.”

Your jaw dropped. You weren’t sure which was more unsettling right now: the fact that you were almost one hundred percent certain you could actually do it, how much shit you could give Pope for having to cover KP, or the fact that your best friend wanted to put handcuffs on you and watch you try. Or maybe it was that you were one hundred percent sure you were going to let him. And on top of all that...did he just ask you out on a date? By challenging you to do tricks while handcuffed? Well, if that’s the game he wanted to play...before you could stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth.

“Do it...I dare you.”

A strangled sound echoed throughout the room as Pope nearly choked on his tongue. He did not expect you to actually agree. But he quickly recovered and in an instant he had closed the few steps between you and slapped one of the rings around your right wrist. He was about to put the other one on you but you grabbed his hand. You had just thought of something.

Your eyes narrowed. “Do you even have the key for these?”

He shrugged and you noticed that mischievous flash spark in his eyes again. “Nope. But don’t worry, honey, I can pick the lock.”

He almost had time to catch the matching glint in your eyes before you moved your hand in a flash, grabbed the metal ring, and locked the second cuff around his wrist.

“You do not play fair,” he snapped, eyes glued to your now-joined wrists.

You couldn’t help the wry grin that broke out on your face. “You’re the one who wanted to put these on me and have me pack a weapons cache!”

He bobbed his head from side to side slightly and smirked back. “Fine, fine, points to you. But, um, how are we getting out of this now?”

“Pope! You said you could pick the lock!”

“I can,” he shot back, “but the tools I need to do it are over there and we have one small problem.”

As if being handcuffed to your extremely attractive best friend in a supply closet wasn’t a problem.

He lifted his left wrist and grabbed the support pole that was between you.

Oh. That small problem. The pole basically split the worktable in two, and it was only about an inch away from the wall. Which was fine except you hadn’t noticed the handcuffs had somehow gotten threaded behind the pole before you attached yourself to Pope. There was no way for either of you to maneuver around the pole, and the tools were definitely out of reach. Just out of reach, of course. You had been so distracted by him and his newly-acquired apparatus and you silently cursed yourself and Pope for this major oversight.

You were stuck.

“Damn it, Pope!”

“It’s not my fault!”

“How did you even get the cuffs around the pole?!”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t cuffed me!”

“This would have happened at all if you weren’t so...so…”

“So...what?” 

Before you knew what happened, you were only inches apart from each other. The room was definitely getting warmer. A lot warmer. Both of you stared at each other, breathing hard and not speaking for what seemed like forever.

Your eye contact broke first. You couldn’t look at him anymore. You were too close, too sweaty, too nervous, too fucking handcuffed to Santiago Garcia.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, as he placed his index finger under your chin so you looked back up at him. His eyes had lost the up-to-trouble spark, and now he looked like he might be worried that you might actually be mad at him. But, being Pope, he only let that show for a second. “Is this your first time?”

“My...what?” your lips curled in confusion and you just...stared...at him.

“Is this your first time in handcuffs?” He tried to keep a straight face. He really did. But it was so hot in the room and the ridiculousness of the situation had really started to dawn on him. So did the idea that this was a chance he did not want to waste. His face refused to cooperate and the bastard was laughing.

You punched him in the shoulder with your free hand, a bit harder than you intended.

“Ow!” he yelped as you muttered “Sorry” and tried to look away again. He didn’t let you.

Pope raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help it, you started to smile back. Might as well keep playing the game. You could still win. “No,” you replied.

“No?” There was no way Pope could hide the amusement in his voice now. Not just amusement, he thought. Definitely not just amusement.

“Nope,” you sighed as you reached your free hand up towards the strap of his tank. “Just the first time in handcuffs with you.” The inflection in your response made it abundantly clear that...oh god, your brain screamed at itself. What were you doing.

“Mmhmm,” Pope hummed as he pulled you as close as possible, what with two of your hands stuck around a pole. His eyes darkened and you thought his voice sounded more raspy but at this point your brain wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders so you just kept your stare focused on his. And also his lips.

He looked at your lips, too. Despite the way your nerves were suddenly misfiring, you were very aware that Pope stared at your lips. He did that damn thing where he stuck the tip of his tongue out over his bottom lip and then pulled his lip with his teeth.

You shuddered ever so slightly.

You were now even more aware that his lips were centimeters from yours.

“How about a hug, hm?” he practically whispered, that stupid grin still on his face. His hand moved to brush that rogue strand of hair off your sweaty face.

“Just a hug?” you whispered back.

Your breath hitched and you both felt your hearts beat faster and faster and the room got even hotter and you swore the walls were actually shrinking as made the barest movement towards each other…

“Oh! That’s where I left those! I’ve been looking for them everywhere.” Frankie’s voice rang out in the room.

You and Pope quickly pulled away from each other and swung your heads to the doorway in surprise. Frankie stood there, hands in his pockets. He looked between the two of you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be packing for a mission?” he asked, nonchalance radiating off him.

Pope ran his free hand over his jaw. “Frankie. What are you talking about?”

“My handcuffs. I’ve been looking for them.” Frankie made it sound like it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

You and Pope exchanged a confused look and Pope sighed. “Why do you have handcuffs and why were they in...you know what? Never mind. I don’t even want to know.”

Frankie wagged his finger between you and Pope. It seemed like he had just noticed your predicament. “I’m not sure I want to know either.”

You rolled your eyes. Of all the people who had to show up. “Fish, trust me when I say I don’t want to know either, and never mind how this happened, but...”

Frankie giggled. You ignored it and continued. “Anyway, do you happen to, I don’t know, maybe have the goddamn key?”

“Of course I have the key,” Frankie replied, as if it was perfectly normal to lose a set of handcuffs and also just happen to have the key in his back pocket. He pulled the key out and walked over. “How long have you two been stuck like this, anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Pope replied, stealing a glance at you. Not long enough.

“Can you just let us go so we can get back to prep?” you asked sweetly, stealing a glance at Pope. Not long enough.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Frankie said and unlocked the cuffs first from you, then from Pope. He put the cuffs and keys in his back pocket and passed a suspicious look between the two of you. “You know, you really should stop fucking around in the munitions closet.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose.

Pope closed his eyes. “Frankie, you had a pair of handcuffs in here.”

“Didn’t say anything about me and the munitions closet.” He ducked Pope’s hand and ran out of the room. His laughter cackled down the hallway as he went and you heard him shout, “Benny! You’re never gonna guess what just happened and you owe me $10, fucker!”

Pope looked up at the ceiling like he was praying for strength. 

You turned back to the abandoned weapons bag and started to pack it up again. Pope turned back to the ammo bag and did the same. You worked in an awkward silence for several minutes, until you zipped up your bag and turned towards the door.

“I could have done it in less than four.”

Pope didn’t turn his head to look at you, but the corners of the eye you could see crinkled deeply. “I know you could have.”

“Were you going to...” A light bulb went off in your head. “You were going to cuff me to the pole the whole time, just so you could win the bet, weren’t you.” Your lips twitched as you leaned on the door and fixed him with a stare. Was Pope blushing? He would probably argue that it was just really, really hot in this little room...but you knew better.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at you. He just cleared his throat and kept packing the bag.

“Santiago Garcia, you could have just asked me. I would have said yes.”

He looked up quickly. “Really?” That was the answer he had hoped for. It was not the answer he actually expected, but definitely hoped. 

“Really. There’s that cantina down by the water. I want enyucado when we get back,” you gave him a sweet smile before you turned and left the room to pack your bag into the transport.

A moment later, you head poked back into the doorway. “Oh, and Santi?”

“Yeah?” he asked, a somewhat dumbfounded grin still on his face.

“If you wanted to have me in handcuffs that badly...I would have said yes to that too.”

Santiago’s jaw hit the floor as he watched your retreating form. He finished packing his bag in a daze and followed a few moments later. Oh, he was definitely going to take you up on that offer.

~end~

[anika-ann]

Attached: Words Lost in Translation Pt.1

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 4200

Summary: There’s a new guy in your history class – a foreign student from Milan, Italy. Handsome, nice enough, pretty smart, actually.

But dammit, you should have known that a guy complimenting the way you say his name will be trouble – Bucky certainly thinks so from the start… and he’s not wrong. Oh boy.

A/N: Attached: Words Lost in Translation is a 3-part addition to the Attached series.

A/N: Many thanks to my lord and saviour @chase-your-dreams-away​ for her help with Italian bits which you’ll find in the fic :-* Seriously, big shout-out for her, she was awesome! Vocabulary at the end if you’re interested.

And many thanks to @wxstedhexrt​ for sending me the link and putting the plot bunny into my head in the first place :-* 

Warnings: smug insistent jerk, harassment(?), swearing, one remark about LBGT+ that could feel insensitive

Story masterlist

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“Uhm… hi. Can I sit here? And uh—this is kinda ridiculous, but could I borrow a pen?”

A very much handsome young man was standing by your seat in the second row, week two of your first semester of master’s at uni, deep brown eyes, naturally tanned skin, relatively tall, his smile a fraction shy but honest.

What else could you have done that what you did?

Even if he wasn’t a relatively cute guy – mind you, you were dating Steve, very happily needless to say – you had no reason to be a bitch to a guy with slight accent you weren’t sure where to place, to a guy who was apparently a tiny bit lost on his first day at Bucky’s class.

“Yeah, sure. Seat all yours,” you smiled encouragingly, sliding him an extra pen on surface of the desk.

His smile widened brilliantly, exposing a set of perfectly narrow and white teeth. A twinkle appeared in his eye and you caught your heart skipping a beat.

Oh. Ah-oh.

“Thank you so much. Something tells me that the prof wouldn’t appreciate me missing the first class of his and not taking notes on the second,” your mystery student grimaced and you chuckled, unable to help yourself.

First of all, yeah, kinda on point.

Second of all, not on point at all, because the said prof was Professor James Barnes. Bucky had a relatively benevolent policy when it came to his classes – yes, he appreciated when his students were paying attention, interacting even, but as long as you weren’t an ass or weren’t making noise (or both), you were fine.

You said so to your new classmate and he nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good to know… but you know what would be even better?” he asked, cocking his head to side curiously – or teasingly, it was hard to tell.

“Oh, what? I guess you need the syllabus too, right? I can-“

A low chuckle erupted from his throat, his eyes glimmering with amusement as his gaze gave you a not-exactly-subtle once-over you weren’t sure how you felt about.

Except you knew exactly how you felt about it, you just knew you shouldn’t feel that way.

“That would probably come in handy too, but I’d rather know the name of my lovely saviour with a pretty smile.”

You found yourself lowering your gaze, heat rising to your cheeks.

Here was a thing – this was most flirting you got in like a year. You adored Steve, you truly did, from the bottom of your heart, he was a dream come true… however, the fact that you two were dating was clear to everyone.

And by everyone, you really meant everyone; considering the scene at your bachelor graduation and the mess around, it appeared that the whole damn city accepted the fact that you were Steve’s and thus no one even considered stepping on his toes.

Which was alright, absolutely, but… girl’s got needs, her ego craves a boost from time to time, even if it’s an appreciative glance from a stranger. Just a teeny-tiny bit of flirting.

No one ever flirted with you anymore.

It was why it was way too easy to fall into the sweet trap as you introduced yourself, lifting you gaze only to see your companion wearing a lop-sided smile. He most definitely liked what he saw.

“Sweet name for a sweet girl. I’m Daniel. I’m here for two semesters. And before you ask, it’s Milano, Italy,” he added quickly with a flash of his teeth again, holding out his hand – and upon having it accepted, he most certainly held it too long and swept his thumb over the back of your hand.

Which was the point when your head started yelling at you to stop this in an instant and draw a line. Yes, it felt amazing to be complimented to, but you had a boyfriend – a fucking dreamy one, no less – and you sure as hell didn’t want to give Daniel (how was his name pronounced again?) the wrong impression.

You retreated your hand with your smile turning tight-lipped, a cold pang of guilt stabbing you in your gut. Served you right.

“Nice to meet you, Daniel,” you said politely, and his expression shifted into one just a fraction patronizing.

“Da-ni­-el. Kinda soft ‘i’. Daniel. You’ll get a hang of it, I’m sure. Once more, please?”

Well, since he said please. “Da-ni-el,” you repeated more from a common curtesy, because honestly, the least you could do was to try to pronounce a name right for a handsome classmate.

Shush it, it doesn’t matter if he’s handsome or not!

Daniel smiled widely, turning his palms up and gesturing towards you. “Perfetto. Amazing. You’re a natural.”

Before you could say thanks, Bucky entered the class and you felt the stab in your insides intensify as his eyes found you unmistakably, as if he had witnessed our interaction with the Italian and was telling you he’d rat you out to Steve if you didn’t stop right now.

Ridiculous – there was nothing to talk about. You were just being nice to the friendly stranger who happened to be in your class and whom you’d be meeting for at least a semester. That was all.

Except you still felt your heart pounding furiously, equally because of the feeling of getting caught doing something wrong and because of enjoying the attention. Fuck.

Okay, fine. You’d tell Steve about this guy on your own as a precaution. It would at least remind you to keep yourself in check, because honestly, you had no desire to get tangled up in some mess. You had no desire to taint the beautiful thing you had with Steve with anything at all, less so for a fling.

Content with yourself, you forced yourself to listen to Bucky’s lecture, taking notes like you were supposed to, determined to ignore Daniel’s presence.

Except Daniel interrupted him twice with questions and remarks about accuracy, drawing attention of the whole class to him and you felt hot in your face for a whole different reason than before – simply hating that someone sitting next to you was, frankly, quickly getting annoying.

And God, you had no idea how much.

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Daniel Gallo was a relatively nice guy –social perhaps a little too much, but cute and open, easy to be friends with.

However, he had one fatal flaw, one you discovered very early on; he was the smuggest asshole you had ever met.

Perhaps it was his need to correct Bucky all the time – mostly failing, because Bucky knew his shit, he was just sparing you the tinniest details, leaving them for you to find in text books.

Maybe it was the fact that Daniel hadn’t given you the pen back, not even asking if he could keep it for the day, which you’d understand despite being protective of your pens; except he carried it around for two weeks, using it in front of you, returning it only upon your curious and slightly sarcastic comment about it.

Most definitely though, it was the fact that he was unbearably insistent on flirting with you – shamelessly – even after you grew so uncomfortable that you blatantly told him you had a boyfriend. He smirked, but backed off for the day, only to continue his advances the next week.

And then Jill, a girl from your year and a sort-of-friend, actually told you that he mentioned you in front of her, saying that you were two growing rather close, if she knew what he meant, and she admitted that she snorted into her latté when hearing it.

“What? What is it?” he had asked.

“I sincerely doubt that,” she claimed she had said, causing him to frown.

“Why? She gay? I don’t think so, I can tell this kind of stuff.”

“No. She’s taken. Very happily, I might add. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Nah. We’ll see about that,” he had replied supposedly and learning that felt like a punch to your stomach, causing you to see red.

You showed him ignorance incarnate the next week, but he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

And then even Bucky noticed and kept casting dirty glares at you both as if you had done the worst crime.

To be honest, after that you did feel dirty; but you didn’t want to make a fuss.

In fact, you hadn’t even told Steve about Daniel besides informing him about the existence of a foreign student in your class.

Partly, shame was to blamed, because you kept wondering if you had done enough; perhaps you should have been more radical, sterner with Daniel to make him stop.

The other part of the reason was that Steve was under tons of pressure because of his academic duties; all professors had to publish an article in a prestige journals dedicated to their area of expertise at least once in two years – university policy – and working on that while teaching several classes was simply taking its toll on him. You really didn’t want to add to his stress.

It wasn’t even a big deal – Daniel was overly social and he probably said shit like the stuff you learned from Jill about other girls too. What was the golden rule? When there’s nothing broken, don’t fix it.

There was nothing. No problem at all.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Except there was.

That morning, you were zoned out, because Steve snapped at you for not doing the dishes and didn’t bother to apologize till you left the apartment in a foul mood. Then he went to shower you with texts full of apologies, gradually growing into pure cutesy (involving a picture of his puppy eyes) and gifs and stuff and you ended up spending the majority of Bucky’s lecture on your phone.

By Bucky’s policy, that was perfectly okay, because he couldn’t care less if you were smiling like a loon into your phone – hell, if he noticed, he was probably glad, knowing shit had rained down and was now being fixed.

At the end of the class, Daniel graciously offered you his neat notes – and really, they looked amazing –, surprising you rather pleasantly.

“Oh… that’s… that’s very kind of you,” you stuttered, almost rendered speechless. Perhaps you truly were just making a big deal of things, seeing something that wasn’t-

“Anything for my principessa.“

The cloud that had been following you since you left the apartment made its comeback in a second, so fast that you actually felt your stomach drop to your feet.

Oh no, you were not imagining things – after all, Daniel even had a term of fucking endearment for you. And you might not be speaking Italian, but you understood that just fine.

“Perhaps one day she’ll repay me with a dinner date,” he continued with a supposedly charming smile, one you found disgusting at the moment.

You opened your mouth and swiftly closed it when no sound came out, scoffing at your naivety. Of course he wouldn’t give them for free, jackass. You shook your head with a wry smile and packed your untouched pencil case and papers, rising to your feet without another word.

A hand on your wrist stopped you from spinning on your heel and walking away.

“Aspetta, aspetta-” an all-to-familiar voice now whispered as you grinded your teeth and glared at the point of contact, skin on skin. He squeezed your wrist almost gently before letting go. “Wait. Here. Just… take a picture, okay? Where would we be if weren’t nice from time to time…”

You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction… but you could really use his notes too.

Dammit shit.

“Thank you,” you uttered, obediently taking a photo of the three pages of ridiculously perfect notes. Then, you met his gaze, face torn between stern and grateful. “Just… a reminder: I have a boyfriend.”

Slow smile spread on his lips and in that moment, you wanted to punch him in those perfect teeth of his. “Doesn’t stand in the way of admiring your beauty, does it, la mia ragazza…”

You had no clue what he said, but the la mia hinted you that he called you something his and that sent a surge of white-hot anger through your veins, mixing with humiliation. Your hand actually curled up in a fist, twitching – but instead of giving your piling anger an outlet, you took a deep breath, huffed and stalked away without a word of goodbye.

“See you next week!” Daniel called after you and you gripped the strap of your backpack tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.

That night, you got next to zero sleep, watching Steve’s passed-out form with tears in your eyes.

It was ridiculous, it was nothing and you were doing nothing wrong-- but you couldn’t make yourself to cuddle to Steve’s side despite desperately needing his wordless affirmation that everything was alright.

Just a simple embrace of his was like a promise of a brighter future. With him.

Chuckling wryly into your palm, you wiped at your tears and snuggled to Steve, causing him to stir and hum, his arm circling around you on instinct, a barely-there sloppy kiss to your hair chasing more tears into your eyes along with a watery smile gracing your lips.

Yeah. Everything was going to be fine.

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Nothing was fine.

Daniel was getting handsy if you could call it that. His thigh brushed yours multiple times the next class as he was sitting uncomfortably close and no amount of subtle pushing away (of you and your chair) was helping, so no, there could have been nothing coincidental about that.

You dug your nails into your palm and bit your cheek, but survived the lesson somehow.

Bucky called for you at the end of the class, saving you further interaction with that Italian Satan, allowing you to breathe freely until he addressed the very problem your head was occupied with.

Bucky didn’t like Daniel’s attitude to begin with – which wasn’t surprising, seeing as he was being a prick – but he liked the fact Daniel seemed to be awfully close to you even less if his tone was anything to go by and his eyes screamed accusations and you fucking hated yourself, feeling the tell-tale of incoming tears burning in your eyes.

“I can talk to him, you know. Tell him to back off,” he offered then though, the grey with blue threads of his irises warming when he noticed your state.

The pressure in your gut eased upon learning Steve’s best friend didn’t only blame you and apparently wanted to help rather than presenting you with ‘you made your bed you lie in it’ attitude.

You even charmed a small smile for him, determined to do justice to your word: “Thank you… it’s fine. I’ll deal with him. I can handle one guy who doesn’t take no for an answer.”

And sure you could.

Daniel hugged you goodbye the next class, saying he was planning a get-away with his new friends for a weekend and it might be dangerous – fucking absurd.

With your heart in your throat, you quickly patted his back and twisted from his arms, feeling dirty.

“No kiss for good luck?” he teased, that annoying smug smile on his face and you had to remind yourself that punching him was a terrible idea seeing as you were already walking a fine line dating a professor – who happened to be the best friend of one of your professors.

You didn’t need any problems – and for some reason, you were certain Daniel would make a big fucking deal of it. So no punching it was.

Your resolve crumbled to nothing when a sudden kiss landed on your cheek, the sensation cold like a kiss of the death itself.

Before you could as much as catch your breath which got knocked out of your lungs and not in the good way, your blood pressure skyrocketing along with your pulse to a point where your head began spinning… he was gone.

You gulped, eyes fluttering shut as the world seemed to sway from its place and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand grasped your arm.

“Daniel, go fuck yourself-“ you snapped and glared at him- only to meet Bucky’s angry and very much concerned gaze.

“Too bad you didn’t say that about thirty seconds ago. You alright?” the brunet asked you, grip firm yet gentle as he steadied your shaky stance.

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, a little strangled noise. “And I am gonna tell him exactly this the next time I see him.”

“Not good enough for me. You’re not stupid, I know you’re not. But I’m not either,” he remarked, expression gravel. His tone hardened, unlike his eyes that studied you thoroughly, examining your face as if searching for something. “You think I didn’t notice the change of your wardrobe?”

An icy-cold shiver ran an up your spine, causing all your muscles to stiffen.

Fuck. He noticed.

You supposed it wasn’t too hard to see and it was only natural that he kept an eye on you as on his best friend’s girlfriend. Yes, your Tuesday’s outfits suddenly somehow lacked skirts and anything with a deeper neckline than a turtle-neck, simply in hopes to turn Daniel off or at least not to pluck up his interest further; an action that had taken zero effect.

But being called out like this? That stung. It hurt your pride and it hurt by its very nature, because it reminded you how pathetic you were, unable to get rid of a jerk who didn’t take no for an answer – in a public space, with witnesses for god’s sake. It made you feel weak and incompetent.

So you looked Professor Barnes dead in the eye, your lips a thin line, your voice cold as you spoke the only words that made sense at that time:

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

So what if you stuttered? So what if his brows furrowed with what was a damn patronizing worry? You didn’t care as you gathered your stuff without another word exchanged.

You made a mental note to wear your favourite outfit the next week, forgoing pants and turtle-necks, because you could fucking take care of yourself.

Penny encouraged you, clearly having faith in you too, but she also gently reminded you that you could report him.

As if. Brining more attention to your person was the last thing you needed.

You could do this on your own, thank you very much.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

For all your bravado, you asked a girl you barely knew by name if you could sit next to her and nearly cried when she said yes and another girl seated herself to your other side within two minutes. You even smiled for yourself contentedly, seeing a dawn of a new age.

And then Daniel fucking Gallo walked in and charmed his way to the seat next to you anyway, somehow managing to scare off your original saviour as well.

Well, too bad for him; you had your confidence back along with your outfit that suited you much better and you were going to tell that jerk to fuck off, just like you promised to Bucky and yourself.

“You thought I wasn’t coming today, la mia bella ragazza? I couldn’t bear not seeing you…” he started off again and you eyed him head to toe, causing a smile spread on his face. You had found that smile cute once, the kind of smile you would let a person get away with murder for.

Now it was making you want to commit murder.

“I was hoping actually.”

“Oh, sassy today, are we? What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? He had the audacity to-

You can’t punch him, you can’t punch him, think of the bureaucracy and your future…

What about my satisfaction?

Zip it!

You took a deep breath and watched that asshole take a seat next to you, automatically shuffling his chair closer.

“Daniel, look-“

“Zitta, zitta…” he interrupted you softly, but the manner he spoke with only pissed you off further. Fuck Italian.

“I don’t know what that means and frankly, I don’t care. I’m taken. I said so, several times. So back off,” you hissed, watching your volume despite the prof not being in yet – you didn’t need a scene. You were disgustingly certain Daniel had brought enough attention to you already – in fact, you were shocked Steve hadn’t learned about this yahoo yet with how quickly gossip spread on this university.

And that Bucky hadn’t told him-- God, you hoped Bucky wasn’t saving it for today’s boys night-

To your utter shock and annoyance, Daniel didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, smiling widely as if amused at your antics. “Am I putting doubts in that bella testolina of yours?”

Your blood boiled at such implication… and maybe there was a thin flow of steam coming from your ears too? Because you couldn’t fucking believe this guy, implying such thing-

--okay, you weren’t sure what exactly he said, honestly, but you understood just enough. No doubts. You were perfectly sure he was an asshole you wanted to have nothing to do with.

“No! No way! Jesus- okay. Let’s be clear. Was... this,” you gestured between the two of you in self-explanatory manner, “flattering at first? Yes. But seriously, now you’re just making me uncomfortable.”

As if appealing to his conscience would work…

“Then give in. Just one little dinner,” he insisted, showing a small space between his thumb and forefinger, grinning as if he hadn’t been listening to you at all. “What could it hurt? Who knows, maybe I’ll show you a real good time and you’ll forget all about some boring boyfriend of yours… who I’m not sure he exists actually-“

You inhaled sharply, wheezing in fact, heat of righteous anger flooding your whole body. That fucker-!

“Oh for fuck’s sake-“

You can’t punch him. You. Can. Not. Punch. Him.

You repeated those words to yourself like a magical mantra that was losing its effect, because there was nothing you wanted more. Maybe except for Steve punching him, that would be quite a show… but it was not an option.

For one, Steve, thank heavens, still didn’t know about Daniel’s unwanted advances and for two, chances were that he would show a little less restraint and you wouldn’t blame him one bit. But it would bring a whole new set of trouble, so you had to deal with this alien of a man on your own.

And right now, staring into that stupidly smug face of his, you only saw one possible solution.

“Okay, fine.”

You almost slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as the words left your lips, numbing horror overwhelming your body.

What the fuck did you just do?!

“Yes!” Daniel whisper-yelled, pumping his fist and you noticed that the class was gradually falling silent, probably with Bucky’s approach – but there was still enough chatter going on for you to save the situation somehow.

“-but you have to earn it,” you added in an equally hushed tone.

He cocked his eyebrow, as if smelling your fear that arrived instantly after the rash decision he provoked from you. “I won’t back out from a challenge, bellezza.”

Yeah, I friggin’ bet.

Your mind was racing hundred miles an hour, choosing to ignore the whatever-it-meant petname in favour of the crisis at hand.

“How about… you ask the professor a question-“ Oh Bucky was going to have your head on a stick for that, but hey, he had offered to help you- “-and if he answers wrong, I’ll go to one dinner with you, tonight.”

…that would be alright, right? Just to get rid of him. One dinner so he would get the clue at last. You’d be a hateful bitch, possibly embarrassing him, doing just about anything for him to finally stop making your life a living hell.

Yeah, looking back at the product of your frantic brain, it had been an excellent thinking actually. Go impulsive me!

Hell, tonight was perfect for it, with Steve having a night off with Bucky and you originally planning on studying with Penny. You would tell Steve after, explaining everything—or maybe before? Bucky was your witness that you weren’t exactly an enthusiastic participant in this, surely he would help you explain and would be able to distract Steve-

But really, that was all theoretical, because Daniel would have to catch Bucky off guard first, which was very unlikely. Bucky knew his subject through and through and Daniel’s chances were extremely low anyway.

“Easy-peasy,” Daniel grinned confidently, making you internally roll your eyes at his overconfident ass.

Or perhaps you had let your annoyance show for real? You couldn’t tell anymore, the adrenaline rush in your veins making certain things too sharp and other dull. For instance, you registered Daniel’s eyes flickering towards the teacher’s stand, his already wide smile growing enough to nearly tear his mouth.

“Even easier when we have a substitute.”

“What,” you blurted out, head snapping to the professor at the front.

A flash of blond hair and a shade darker beard. Broad shoulders. Blue eyes of which you simply knew they had a glint of green in them.

Your heart positively stopped in your chest, your lips parting in mute horror.

“Oh shit.”

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Vocabulary: Perfetto - perfect Principessa – princess Aspetta – wait La mia (bella) ragazza – my (pretty) girl Zitta – shh Bella testolina – pretty head

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 2

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Eh, I swear the first idea was giving off less of a harassment vibe. But it gets better, I promise ;)

I apologize to Italians if you find this offensive, but it was in fact not my intention at all for Daniel to be a representation of a whole nation. I figured there are insistent jerks all over the globe. (And I happened to have an Italian real-life template, not gonna lie.)

[stellarune]

OK SO !! my friend, logan (soybean-foster) wrote keefex angst and asked me to post it  here ! full credit to him, hes amazing, and this h u r ts !!

tw : the ability circlet, the council bein shit as always

Keefe’s terrified, you know.

He asked for this himself, he asked for an ability restrictor like Sophie’s, didn’t he?

So why does he feel so terrified of the circlet in Councillor Alina’s hands?

The councillors apparently had a separate Technopath, someone who wasn’t Dex but kept a mystery identity, because this is /not/ one of Dex’s projects - Keefe can tell simply by looking at it.

It’s a coppery shade, the circlet, and he knows that Dex hates and has a weird vendetta against copper. Something about he hates how it looks. He’ll use anything else he can get his hands on, no matter whether he’s been told to use the specific metal or not.

He /also/ wouldn’t embellish a project with pointless decorations, because “that takes time that we don’t have”.

And the final thing? Dex was obviously asked to stand in to make sure nothing went wrong, and although claiming it’s his circlet, he won’t look at it with anything other than a withering glare.Councillor Alina gives Keefe a sickeningly sweet smile. “This’ll be over in a minute, I assure you. Dexter?”

Dex gives her a careful glance before taking the restrictor, turning it around to examine it and perhaps giving another clue that it’s not his project.

He steps in front of where Keefe’s sitting on one of the Healing Center cots. “Now, Mr. Sencen, I’m sure you’re aware that our clasp can only be opened by our Technopath. It’s a unique design, preventing any of your... /friends/,” Alina sneers, “from opening it.”

“Yeah.”

He’s been determined to not give more than one word answers until he’s finally wearing the circlet, until he knows he can’t hurt anyone with his abilities anymore.

Alina smiles again. “Good. Dexter, if you would do the honours?”Dex swallows, turning back to face Keefe and letting his hands drop slightly. “I have no idea what this is going to do, Keefe,” he whispers. “I don’t know if it’s going to hurt you or if it’s going to permanently damage your abilities or anything like that, they wouldn’t let me see it before now.”

“I know.”

“Come on, you can still refuse! Say you don’t want it, this was your original choice and they can’t force you to do anythi-“

“Actually, we can. So you’d best hurry up, we haven’t got all day.”

Dex ignores her. “Keefe, you-“

“I’ll be okay. I promise,” he mumbles, the longest thing he’s said so far today.Dex sighs, gently brushing Keefe’s hair back from his forehead and pausing before he closes the circlet clasp.

“Are you sure? I can’t do anything else for you after this.”

“I’m sure.”

A metallic /clack/ echoes through the room, and Dex steps away, his hand moving to fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist - the one that Keefe had given him. Alina claps her hands, walking forwards. “Alright then! We simply need to press this lovely jewel here, and...”

As soon as her finger touches it, Keefe’s whole world seems to set itself alight with a brand new strength and kind of /pain/.As in, the world literally set itself alight - there’s fire, metaphorical fire, covering every inch of his body and making his eyes burn with tears that he tries to hold, tears that only succeed in trailing white-hot streaks down his cheeks.

And it’s simultaneously underwater - he can’t see or hear or feel or breathe or do /anything/ he should be able to do.

He bites his lip hard to stop himself crying or shouting out - he’ll stay here if it kills him, it’ll eventually go away.

He deserves this. He deserves the pain that soaks him, he deserves everything he feels because it’s his fault in the first place. He shouldn’t still be in the Lost Cities, but he is and he should’ve left - he did leave, and he can’t remember why he even came back.Why did he..?

Oh. Dex.

Dex should be here. Is Dex still there? Keefe can’t tell, he barely remembers if Dex was actually there in the first place, it might as easily have been a hallucination.

Someone touches his arm and the contact burns brighter. A scream rips from his throat before he can stop it and he lets go of the frozen way he’s been sitting, kicking out at whoever it was that’s standing in front of him.

He doesn’t know who, he only knows that they’re shouting something at him and he’s shouting out for Dex, because /where did he go/?! He should be here, he should’ve been somewhere in the room but he’s not answering.

Maybe he left.

Oh, God, maybe he /left/.Maybe he’s stopped denying it - maybe he’s seen that Keefe’s always been the one in the wrong and maybe he’s seen that Keefe is right, that he doesn’t deserve anyone’s love, much less someone like Dex’s.

He screams again as this time someone pins his knees down, sending fresh pain over his legs, and shouts something that he can’t hear. He’s not strong enough to push them off.

What’s his first instinct while in extreme pain, pinned by someone and unable to move?

He thinks they’ve come to kill him.

That would’ve been really welcome at that moment, if it weren’t for his firm belief that he deserved to suffer for as long as possible.

He reached to hit at them blindly and they catch both his wrists in one hand, twisting his arm in the process and only earning another agonised shriek.The static buzzing gets louder and the fire glows ever brighter and then...

There’s silence.

Well, relative silence. He stills as the world comes crashing back into focus, leaving him with only the sound of heavy breathing and otherwise darkness. He glances up, finding Dex standing next to him with lightly flushed cheeks, wide eyes, and...

A copper circlet in his hands.

“Oh, thank the stars,” Dex whispers, setting the restrictor aside and sinking down next to him on the mattress.

The world spins and Keefe’s lost the energy to keep himself upright anymore - his head falls against Dex’s shoulder, and he’s quickly pulled into an embrace that he physically can’t return.

“/Fuck/...” Dex whispers, running a hand through Keefe’s hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”Keefe chokes a sob and attempts to grab the back of Dex’s cape, his hands shaking and too weak to keep his grip.

“Hurt...” he mumbles. Dex’s arms tighten around him.

“I know. It’s stopped now, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Dex throws every Councillor in the room a glare, and oh, if looks could kill! “Why the /hell/ did you think that was a good idea?! You could have seriously hurt him - I can’t even count on two hands how many issues you have with that... /thing/!” he spits, pointing at the circlet glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “There’s so much faulty tech, it’s ridiculous! Whoever built that was not anything close to a Technopath.”

Alina folds her arms. “Dexter, as I’m sure you’re aware, you’ve interfered with a /Council/ matter.”

“I don’t care, to be honest.”Alina blinks as, presumably for effect, Dex leans over to snap the circlet and tear part of the wiring inside.

“I’ll make you another one, I’ll make you as many ability restrictors as you like - I’ll make ones that /don’t hurt people/.”

Alina scowls at him before turning sharply on her heel. “Fine! Zarina, would you tell our lovely Technopath that his invention was ruined, please?”

Zarina nods, following the Councillors as they file out of the room. Bronte and Oralie glance apologetically back to the boys before letting the door click shut.

Keefe takes a shuddering breath and Dex leans back to look at him.

“You’re okay, aren’t you? You’re not hurt?”

“No...”

He frowns. “No, you’re not okay, or no you’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m not hurt. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says, kissing the crown of Keefe’s head. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t... I didn’t think it was going to do that, there wasn’t anything obvious in the tech that should’ve caused that amount of pain...”

“Maybe it’s my mom’s freaky experiments again. Maybe you can’t restrict my abilities.”

“If you want me to, I’ll find a way that won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Keefe sighs, relaxing slightly as Dex runs a hand down his back. “Yeah. Please.”

[jisungsmochi]

wild heart - njm

summary: “we won’t look back, take my hand and we will shine”

when na jaemin shows up at your doorstep at 1am, demanding you accompany him on a ‘secret adventure’, you’re just about ready to slap the living daylights out of him. but it couldn’t hurt to do something wild for just one night...

word count: 2.4k 

a/n: trust me i did not forget about this series! this is the second installment! you can read jisung’s one here <3 

//

I was walking away,

But she's so beautiful it made me stay

I don't know her name,

But I'm hoping she might feel the same

So here I go again,

She got my heart again!

for jaemin, the first few weeks of college was filled with endless gatherings with the freshman class. he didn’t mind tagging along, but it all got too much when he, and the rest of his friends, were at some random karaoke bar on campus. haechan was belting his heart out to old school justin bieber whole renjun was filming the entire fiasco.

“he’s a goner” jaemin thought to himself, wondering why he was still even there. he had an early lecture the next day, so he quickly said his goodbyes to his friends before heading towards the door. it was until, he saw you standing against the wall near the exit, watching haechan’s antics unfold. jaemin swore he had seen you before but couldn’t put his finger on it. you seemed to have noticed the doe eyed boy staring at you. you weren’t sure how to react, opting to just giving him a quick raise of your eyebrows. jaemin snapped out of his trance. he considered walking back to his friends, incase you were going to stick around for a while. but he watched as you made your way out of the bar, leaving him standing there alone.

“you alright buddy?” jeno curiously raised his eyebrows as he grabbed onto his friend’s shoulder. jaemin was startled, pulling away from the other boy before shaking his head.

“i’m fine, getting pretty tired though, ready to head back?” jaemin tried to divert the conversation as jeno caught on. jaemin couldn’t get you out of his mind, it bothered him that he recognised you. but he truly wasn’t sure where or when. hopefully he would soon.

Tonight we’ll dance,

I’ll be yours and you’ll me mine

We won’t look back,

Take my hand and we will shine

another college party came about. jaemin wasn’t too keen on attending, but something inside him was telling him to go.

“you reckon she’ll be there?” jaemin asked jeno, who was tying his shoelaces.

“i don’t know, man. there’s a lot of people going, some who don’t even live on campus. don’t tell me you’re going to search for her all night!” jeno sighed, he thought it was completely ridiculous that jaemin didn’t even know your name yet, but he was still so interested in you.

“pfft no, i was just curious” jaemin sighed to himself, putting on large denim jacket before heading out of the dorm room, jeno following closely behind.

they both made it to the party, people already scattered across the lawn and front living room. jaemin wasn’t surprised to see haechan standing on a table as he made people watch him take shots.

“haechan, get down from there, you’re going to hurt yourself” renjun rolled his eyes in frustration, already tired of the other boy’s antics.

“i’m sorry i can’t hear you, i’m having too much fun” haechan stuck out his tongue. 

jaemin chuckled at the whole scene, excusing himself to grab a drink. as he was about to pour himself a cup of cola, his eyes landed on someone’s hand reach for the same bottle. he looked over at the person next to him,

“hey, you” he stuttered. you looked at him with furrowed brows, recognising his face.

“oh hey, guy from the bar” you smiled, instantly remembering him. how could you forget? he was giving you intense googly eyes that night.

“you remember me?” he smirked, proud that he already made an impression.

“yeah, you were the guy who was staring me down, could never forget you” you teased as he frowned. he handed you the bottle as you poured yourself a cup.

“that was pretty creepy, i do sincerely apologise” he sighed, unsure of what else to say to you. you noticed he was getting more sheltered, so you decided to continue the conversation.

“isn’t that your friend from the bar? the one who can hit some hella high notes in karaoke?” you pointed to haechan who was now laying on the table top, face down.

“yep, that’s him. can’t really take him anywhere without there being a scene” jaemin joked, causing you to almost snort out your drink.

“oh my god that was so embarrassing” you quickly grabbed some napkins to wipe off the liquid that landed on your dress. the sound of jaemin’s chuckle filled your eyes. you felt a warm blush reach your cheeks. you couldn’t believe how you had just embarrassed yourself infront of a cute guy.

“it’s fine, you alright though?” he pat your back softly, cautious about whether you were comfortable with his actions.

“yeah i’ll be fine” you assured him, the atmosphere slowly growing more quiet.

“i’m sorry, i just wanted to ask, do i know you from somewhere? other than the bar. you look really familiar” he suddenly asked. your eyes slowly made his way to meet his. you didn’t expect him to remember you anyway.

“uh yeah, we were in the same orientation group earlier this year, jaemin” he perked up at the mention of his name. he felt awful that he didn’t even remember yours.

“oh i’m sorry” was all he felt like he could say. you weren’t sure how to continue, the conversation was heading to a very awkward end.

“it’s fine. my friends are probably wondering where i am, i’ll see you around” you tried to turn away from him, but he quickly grabbed your wrist. you turned back before saying,

“my name is y/n” he slowly let go of your wrist as you left him standing there, completely gutted. who were you kidding? as if someone like na jaemin would even be interested in you.

the rest of the night was filled with dancing with your friends and getting to know some people from some of your classes. but one person was still at the back of your mind. your eyes scanned the room, landing on jaemin who was sitting by the kitchen bench with his friends. he wasn’t really interested in their conversation though, he was aimlessly scrolling through his phone. you felt bad that you had ended your conversation with him earlier. you took a leap of faith and walked up to him. jaemin sensed someone standing right over him, he thought it was just jeno trying to be nosy, but to his surprise, you were smiling softly at him.

“now jaemin, we are at a party, and you are sitting here looking so glum, why’s that?” you teased, watching as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“well, i was planning on talking to you for the rest of the night, but i kinda screwed up, didn’t i?” he frowned as you shook your head.

“don’t stress about it, wanna dance?” you suddenly offered, your eyes widening.

“pardon?” he was taken back by your bluntness.

“i’m not asking again” you crossed your arms as he softly chuckled. you pulled him along with you as you joined the rest of your peers. jaemin couldn’t take his eyes off you. the way you were screaming the lyrics to the songs as you danced, the way you gently held his hands in yours. the way you let him hold your waist as you both danced. it was pure bliss. you both could never forget that night.  

She needs a wild heart

I got a wild heart

Stay here, my dear,

Feels like I've been standing right here for years

“you know what your problem is?”

“what is it, jisung?” you rolled your eyes at your friend who was currently trying to convince you to ask na jaemin on a date.

“you play it too safe! it’s been like what, three months since that night at the party and nothing has happened! not even a kiss? hand holding? come on” he groaned at your incompetence which made you giggle lightly. you could never take him seriously about these types of topics.

“if something is going to happen then it will happen! i’m fine with how he and i are right now” you shrugged, sitting down in your living room as you switched on a random show on tv.

“you need someone with a wild heart” jisung mumbled. you didn’t quite catch what he said, choosing to ignore it. jisung on the other hand, had other plans.

//

“you really like her, don’t you?” jaemin just nodded at haechan’s words.

“i don’t know guys, should i make a move?” jaemin was confused about his relationship with you. on one hand, he enjoyed being friends but he also wondered what it’d be like to be in a relationship.

“i mean, you guys have been hanging out for a while. you should ask her out! do something spontaneous” jeno suggested, as the other boys were trying to come up with a great date idea.

“you guys didn’t hear it from me, but her friend, jisung, let it slip to me that she’s always wanted to go on a late night adventure. like long drives in the dark, maybe go to a small diner or something” renjun piped up, the other boys listening intently. jaemin ran the scenario through his head...

“that’s actually not a bad idea” he mumbled. jeno, haechan and renjun all looked at eachother. they already knew he had made up his mind. operation get y/n and jaemin to finally confess was in motion.

And I know it's late, I know it's cold

But come right here, I swear I'll never let you go

The way you move, it's wonderful

Let's do it now, 'cause one day we'll both be old

you were home alone for the night and was planning to hang out with jisung but he randomly cancelled last minute. it was odd, jisung never cancelled, and if he did it was always for a good reason. the clock had just struck around 1am. you were debating whether or not to head downstairs and make a bowl of cereal. you couldn’t fight your hunger, so you made your way to the kitchen. before you could pull out the cereal box, there was a knock on your door.

“what the fuck” you whispered to yourself, one hundred percent convinced it was a murderer. “okay y/n if it was a murderer they wouldn’t fucking knock” you kept talking to yourself, cautiously making your way to the door. there was another knock,

“who’s there?!” you yell, knowing it was probably one of the dumbest things you could have said in this situation.

“it’s me! it’s jaemin” you heard the boy reply, groaning to yourself before opening the door.

“what the hell? what are you doing here so late? i thought you were a murderer” you sighed, arms crossed infront of you.

“i’m sorry, this probably wasn’t what you were expecting. but i have a proposition for you” jaemin smirked, you nodded for him to continue.

“let’s go on an adventure” your eyes immediately shot to meet his. you couldn’t contain your excitement. you allowed jaemin to enter your house as you packed some essentials and got changed.

“who put you up to this? was it jisung? god he really does have a blabber mouth” you shook your head in amusement as jaemin just stayed silent. he was running through all the right things he wanted to say to you.

“where are going? what are we even going to do?” you questioned, tying your hair back into a low ponytail. jaemin led you out of your house and into his car.

“it’s a secret, y/n. i have everything planned out” you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. there were nights like these where you only dreamt of spending it with jaemin. he started driving around your neighbourhood as you both talked about the most random things. jaemin was rehearsing bits of phrases he wanted to say to you. by the end of the night, he hoped you would be his girlfriend.

jaemin pulled up to a random parking lot. the street lights were still lit, no other cars in sight.

“you know jaemin, in order to have an adventure, i presume we are meant to go exploring. what can we explore in a target parking lot?” you pointed out as jaemin chuckled.

“well before we continue, i just wanna talk” he softly muttered. you started feeling nervous at his words. it couldn’t be anything bad, right?

“go ahead” you made sure you were fully engaged.

“okay i’ll just come out and say it. i like you. actually, i might even love you? i’m not sure exactly, i just know that i really want to be your boyfriend. and if you gave me the chance, i would be the best damn boyfriend you could ever have! i had this whole night planned out in my head, but i couldn’t hold it in anymore. i pray that you feel the same way. i don’t want to scare you off” jaemin finally took a deep breath. the only sound that could be heard was the wind blowing outside. you weren’t sure how to respond. instead you pulled jaemin’s face closer to yours, making sure his eyes were looking into yours.

“trust me when i say i feel the same way. you worry too much, but i totally get it. it’s not easy to tell if i have feelings for anyone. are you happy right now?” you whispered the last sentence as his smile became wider, if that was even possible.

“just a tad” he smirked, lips inching closer to yours. “may i?” he whispered back to you. you stroked his cheek gently before nodding, pulling him into you. the kiss was sweet, slow and soft. just how you imagined it to be.

“so you wanna be my girlfriend?” he finally asked,

“what do you think, idiot?” you rolled your eyes before placing another kiss on his lips. needless to say, it was a night to remember.

//

a/n: i had alot of fun writing this one! pls let me know what y’all think, i love reading the reactions hehe. 

[toplinetommy]

Refrigerator Door - Tyson Jost

Word Count: 1.7k Synopsis: You, Tyson, and your family reminisce some of the best parts of yours and Tyson’s relationship A/N: Inspired by Refrigerator Door by Luke Combs, italics are flashbacks!

“Mom! Hi!” you exclaim, embracing your mom in a hug. “Welcome to our new home!” You gesture your arms showing off the newly and finally completed living room. You and Tyson had just bought your first, official, “married couple” house together a few months ago in the Denver area, and this was the first time your family was able to come out and see it for themselves.

Tyson stands up from the couch, making his way over to hug and greet everyone. He hugs your mom last and proceeds to ask if anyone wants something to drink. The small group that was your family follows the two of you into your kitchen, a few “ooo’s” coming from their mouths at the sight of the fully updated kitchen.

As he shuts the refrigerator door, your family all find seats around the kitchen island. “These are really nice cabinets. Nice countertop, too, whoever designed this did a really good job.” Your dad analyzes, admiring the soft white cabinets and the butcher block countertops that are littered with greenery.

A soft scoff comes out of your mouth at the comments your dad makes, “Always gotta comment on the construction.” Your mom and brother laugh at your comment, knowing the way your dad always got about that kind of stuff.

“You guys already have so many pictures hanging on your fridge!” Your mom exclaims, getting up and moving towards the silver refrigerator to get a closer look. You share a wide smile with Tyson, knowing that pictures were something the two you never had enough of.

“It’s covered with the best days of our lives.” You admire, leaning into Tyson's side as he places a kiss to the crown of your forehead.

A polaroid of the two of you at Red Rocks Amphitheater

“That one’s when we saw Kygo at Red Rocks. It’s one of Tyson’s favorite artists.” You say, leaning into Tyson’s side a little, thinking back to that night.

“y/n! Walk faster!” Your boyfriend exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling your smaller body closer to his. You giggle at your excited boyfriend, a wide smile covering both of your faces as you walk hand in hand to your seats.

As the two of you make it to your seats Tyson wraps his arms around your frame, kissing the top of your head. “Thank you for coming with me, means a lot.” You smile into his broad chest, pulling away slightly to give him a quick kiss. The two of you hadn’t been together that long, only for about four months, and this was the first time you really let Tyson spend any type of money on you.

As the concert goes on and the two of you sway to the bass of the music playing, there has been a definite shift in your guys’ relationship. “Hey,” He whispers into your ear, “I love you, you know that?” You turn your head to look further at him, wide-eyed at the statement that had never been said to the other yet. The music around you fades as you yell an “I love you” right back at him.

“That was the night Tys told me he loved me for the first time.” You grinned, a similar grin forming on your mother’s face at the sentiment, while a gagging sound comes from the island where your brother sat.

A picture of you, Tyson and your brother at a bar

“Oh, that one’s old!” Your brother says loudly, pointing at the beat-up photo in the top left corner being held up by your college magnet. You laugh loudly, your brother joining you as you look at the picture. The three of you are sitting at a table, you’re practically in Tyson’s lap and your brother is standing behind the two of you.

“That’s when Tyson made a point to come visit me my last semester at school so he could get to experience the ‘party-girl lifestyle’ that he so begged to witness.” You mimic Tyson’t tone as you do finer quotes around ‘party-girl lifestyle’.

“And I was there because y/n had just gotten back from spring break and I hadn’t seen her in weeks.” Your brother explains to your parents.

“Tyson, you seriously want to go out to some dingy college bar that’s going to be full of frat guys?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at your pouting boyfriend.

“Yes! I didn’t really get to experience the college party scene that much and I know you enjoy the bar scene here so you should show me your ways.” Tyson elaborated, puppy-dog eyes in full effect.

You let him tag along, him and your brother chatting while you did your hair and makeup. Once you guys had gotten around to the bar after a pretty laid-back pregame, that’s when all hell broke loose.

Tyson couldn’t believe how cheap the drinks were and tried to convince your group that you guys weren’t actually drinking alcohol because it couldn’t possibly be $3 for a double.

“Just drink your shitty rum and coke and get drunk and let loose,” You say into his ear. “It’s the way of college!” You finish with a laugh. Tyson laughs along with you, throwing his head back, then downing the rest of his drink before getting up to get another round.

The night progresses and the two of you, alongside your small group, continue to take turns between dancing and playing card games at the table and getting way too drunk off of bottom-shelf liquor.

A picture of you, Tyson, Andre Burakovsky, Mikko Rantanen, and Mark Barberio at the X-Games

“That one’s from this past year during the bye week. Y/n and I went to Aspen with a few of the guys for the X-Games.” Tyson explained, pointing at the picture briefly.

“Oh yeah! She kept sending me pictures from it to make me jealous!” Your brother complained, followed by a scolding look from both of your parents.

“Next time we’ll invite you. I already told you that.” You defend, freeing yourself from Tyson’s grip to go sit down next to him.

“I don’t think I could ever try or even want to attempt flipping that many times in the air over har, frozen, snow.” You admit, watching the snowboarding half-pipe event. Tyson is standing behind you, his arms slouched around your neck, the other guys standing around the both of you. “Like, I thought what you guys did seemed hard and ridiculously dangerous, but I take that all back.” A loud laugh emits from Tyson behind you and you feel the rumbles in his chest against your back. The rest of the guys were laughing alongside him.

“Hey! What we do is hard!” Tyson whines, pulling you tighter into his chest. You giggle lightly into your scarf before turning to look at your boyfriend. Your eyes meet, his eyes giving you his signature puppy-dog look, to which you sigh at.

“I love you,” You sing-song, going to poke his pink nose. “And what you do impresses me every day, don’t you ever forget that.”

A candid picture of the two of you with his family, Tyson’s holding the Stanley Cup above his head and instead of looking at the camera he’s looking at you

“I haven’t seen this one before!” Your mom says with glee, reaching out and touching the photo being held up by the Colorado Avalanche Stanley Cup Champions magnet. “The magnet is a nice touch, too.”

“One of the best days of my life.” Tyson admits sheepishly. His smile widens and his cheeks turn a little pink from the memory of that night.

“You’re a fucking Stanley Cup champion, Tyson!” You yell, running a little too fast over the ice to your boyfriend.

“I’m a fucking Stanley Cup champion, baby!” He yells right back as you reach him. His arms wrap around your body tightly, and he lifts you up into the air with a squeal. He sets you down, grasping your cheeks with his calloused and clammy hands, giving you a kiss.

“I love you so much. Thank you for being here and for always being there for me.” He thanks, his lips only a few millimeters away from your own. You can see his eyes starting to turn glossy, causing the same reaction in yours.

“I love you, I’m so proud of you.” You say, a hiccup coming out at the end from your overwhelming emotions. You wrap your arms around his neck once more, hugging him impossibly tighter.

Tyson pulls away “C’mon, we gotta go take some pictures with that beauty and the rest of my family.” He grabs your hand, skating slowly towards where his mom, sister, and grandparents stood waiting for the two of you to have your moment.

Even more hugs and congratulations are exchanged as you wait for the cup to be passed to Tyson for his turn to take pictures. Once JT skates it over and passes it to Tyson with a cheer, you wait for him to take some pictures with just his family before he waves you over to join him. You stand between him and his grandpa, a look of pure adoration in your eyes as you look at the love of your life having his dream come true.

An ultrasound picture

“We actually have one that we still haven’t put up there yet.” You say, eyeing Tyson. He understands where you’re going with the statement and moves to the next room to grab the photo you’re talking about.

The tone in your voice and Tyson’s sudden exit from the kitchen causes your family to all exchange weird looks as they wonder where he went.

“What picture are you guys talking about?” Your dad asks for everyone in the room. He’s leaning on the kitchen island with knitted eyebrows. A tightness pulls in your stomach at the anxiety of the conversation that’s about to happen once Tyson comes back.

As if on cue, Tyson walks back into the kitchen, small photo in hand. Instead of putting it up on the fridge right away, he opts to bring it over to your family. As he reaches the kitchen island where you all are located, he pulls you into his side and sets the small, mainly black photo onto the table.

You look around the island, watching everyone’s reactions once they comprehend the photo laying in front of them.

Your mom’s eyes flick from the photo to you and back to the photo with her jaw dropped and eyes wide until she speaks up. “You’re pregnant?” She sheepishly asks, hope filling her facial features.

You nod your head, smile widening on your face as you answer her, “I’m pregnant.” You say it so softly, it’s almost a whisper, as Tyson rubs your arm softly.

“Oh my God! You’re pregnant! My baby is having a baby!” She shrieks jumping from her stool and running around to pull both you and Tyson into an airtight hug. Your dad and brother join in on the group hug before pulling away to give you individual hugs. Once your dad finishes shaking Tyson’s hand, Tyson moves to stick the new addition to the front of the fridge where it joins the other pictures.

The pictures covering your fridge create somewhat of a contrast to the rest of the kitchen aesthetic, but the both of you don’t mind and you enjoy the daily reminders of the best days of your lives.

[ditch-witches]

Insufferable (i) - George MacKay x reader

(PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4)

requested: yes/no (im so sorry this took so long holy scheisse, there are so many parts too)

Thank you so much to our first Instagram request! @/okay.l0z I had a lot of fun with this and had to channel Ryan and Hannah's angst to help me.

"Hi! I've been reading your fics and I love them so much bc there's hardly any around. I was wondering if you take insta requests and if so can you do one with George and the reader are like enemies to loves and they have really cute moments but then end up fighting all the time and then it escalates and they end up having sEx and then get together or something bc I will THRIVE IF YOU DO!" ... "Is it bad if I want it long ass?"

also I thought about this like,,, a lot,,,

pairing: George MacKay x reader

warnings: slow-burn introduction bAsIcalLy, I think there are swear words?

word count: 2,629

a/n: There are several things to be addressed...

accuracy to George's life is like 0/100 - scratch that, they have the same hair color

think of this as an AU because idk how else to explain it

it's a slow burn. if you need something that isn't, check the next imagine over and give it a reblog.

You put your chin in your hand and furrowed your brows as you listened to the actors in front of you. The bright stage lights kept you at a suffocatingly hot temperature, but at this point, you didn't mind. What your main concern for the scene was simple: your leading actor was George MacKay. You had spent constant, stressful hours trying to convince the director of the show that he was not the choice, yet when it came down to it, what he said went, and you had to deal with the cleaning up. Today was not like any other. An almost two-hour practice, script work, lighting, etc, were all thrown at the actors still attempting to memorize their lines.

But it was this part, in particular, that was becoming the most difficult. Maybe it was because you were the ghostwriter of the script and the director was trampling on all of your ideas and dreams with a man that you could one-hundred-percent deem an enemy. Your lead character, Charlie, had a soft side to him, despite having an overpowering sense of the dangers of the world and a body to match. George wasn't Charlie. George was one of the lost boys from Peter Pan and that's all you could see him as. He needed to grow up and be a pirate with only two motives: breaking the chains of the dystopian government regime keeping him away from his wife and captaining the deadly sea creature infested waters and getting back to his wife in one piece.

But George's motives seemed to be entirely set on getting into his co-star's pants.

His cocky attitude and facade of charm made you want to rip your hair out. Sure, he took his job seriously and had several esteemed colleagues of yours raving about him, but this role wasn't his. It didn't help that you knew him from primary school, of all places, and once he found out, that's all he could bring up around you.

George rolled his sleeves and dragged a hand through his thick, red hair, the veins in his arm becoming rather predominant as he did so. He was damn near playing footsie with the girl in front of him; their flirty gazes bouncing from each other to the crumpled scripts in their hands. You rolled your eyes, feeling as if your team could see the steam rolling off your shoulders. The director was doing nothing, merely smiling giddily at the two tearing the scene to shreds. "Stop," you took the reins, standing up from your position on stage and tossing your script down. You stepped over to the two and the director didn't move an inch. "What are you doing?" You nipped, crossing your arms and stepping between George and his co-star.

He towered over you by miles; you weren't sure if this made him feel the superiority he exuded, but you always made sure to square your shoulders when you talked to him. "What do you mean? We're practicing," he slyly stated, sending a wink over your head to the girl.

You took the script from his hands, flipping a few pages to the scene they were supposed to be working on. He smirked down at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you scan the page. His script was well-loved and worn as if it had been in his back pocket repeatedly, flipped through, folded, torn and taped, highlighted and annotated. You tried not to blush at the notes he had taken as if he had actually cared about his role. Notes such as movements and relative emotions were noted as if they were suggestions. You wet your lips, feeling George's easy-going gaze on you the whole time. "... Charlie, we have to get out of here..." You began, your eyes meeting his deep blue ones.

His face fell into a stern expression, his arms crossing heavily with a furrowed brow. "We've only just got here. I'm shipping out tomorrow. There's no way the Republic-" His Scottish accent was surprisingly thick and consistent. He was settling into Charlie.

"I don't care anymore. I'm tired of sitting idly by and watching you throw yourself away for a debt your brother can't repay." You swore you saw an actual feeling of hurt flash behind his eyes.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. "That debt is just as much mine as it is his. You're asking me to uproot and leave him, you know? I can't leave him."

"You'll die. You'll end up like the rest of the mariners haunting their wives for the rest of eternity. You're a slave." George took a few steps to stand in front of you, he was close enough that you could smell his cologne now: a sweet mix of sandalwood with hints of lavender. He smelled like a summer day spent at a cabin in the middle of a meadow. You hated it, but you wanted to bury yourself in his chest and bask in his scent for the remainder of your days.

He rested a hand on your neck, angling your face towards him as he whispered, "Look at me..." You attempted to ignore the beating of your heart in your ears and the sweat that began to spread across your back. "I'm free. I'm choosing this debt because, without it, he would die. He's the last piece of my father I have left."

You reached for his hand, covering it with your own. "What about me, Charlie? I'm here now. I'm flesh and blood in front of you. What about our child?"

"He'll be here when I get back." He pushed away from you, turning his back on you and settling his hands on his hips. "I'm not changing my mind." He looked over his shoulder at you. "Eden, I have to do this." You closed the script with a raised eyebrow, hiding how impressed you were that he actually knew his lines. The emotion he was conveying was nothing like how he had previously let on. You walked towards him and he turned back around. You pressed the script back into his hands and gave him a small glare.

"Practice how you play. I'm done with wasting time," you said more to the group than just him. The rest of the cast members weren't as proficient in hiding their amusement back as you were. The last thing George needed was another inflate to his ego. You went back to your spot, grabbing your clipboard and flipping over a few pages. The group began to gather around you slightly. "I need Eden and Charlie in with wardrobe now, the rest of you keep practicing your lines. I'll want to hear dialogue from Dane and Jack tomorrow. Give me another forty or so minutes and we'll call it?" The director nodded from the first row of seats. The crowd dispersed but George swam against the current of thespians, approaching you again.

He gave you one of his charming smiles. Be professional, you thought. "I was just wondering how that sounded to you?"

You thought for a moment, drawing the clipboard to your chest. "Yeah, it was good. Your accent's a bit dodgy, but the emotion is good. Why don't we see that during actual rehearsals?" You tilted your head at him and he looked at his shoes slightly, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Was he pretending to be humble?

"I don't know. I guess I like you more as Eden," he jeered, causing you to roll your eyes and he smiled wider.

"You're insufferable," you muttered, walking past him.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll grow on you."

You scoffed slightly. "Go get fitted for suspenders and leave me alone, MacKay."

The next few days were full of constant rehearsals both in costume and script memorization. You had to admit that for some reason this show had you wrapped in a bundle of tension and anxiety. George slowly tore away at your nerves, becoming his own mess of anger and frustration as he picked up more and more on the fact that you weren't going to take his shit. You were serious about this job and you were serious about this play. His humor had diminished as it had gotten closer and closer to opening night and you weren't surprised when he would snap back at you for making an adjustment to his tone or a note on the delivery of a line.

"Stop being such a bitch!" He groaned, tugging at his hair as you crossed your arms.

"Calm down, primadonna! All I'm saying is quit pacing! Charlie isn't pacing! Where in the script does it say he's pacing-"

"THAT'S RIDICULOUS. IT DOESN'T MATTER." He moved to stand in front of you, his teeth gritting slightly. This was what your discussion had grown into, one hissy fit flaring up the other.

"FUCK, YOU'RE RIGHT. I TOTALLY FORGOT YOU WERE THE ONE IN CHARGE, MR. MACKAY. SHOULD I JUST SUCK YOUR DICK RIGHT NOW SINCE WE'RE ALREADY ADDING IN UNNECESSARY ACTION," you would bite back causing him to glare up at the ceiling with his jaw clenching in a sarcastic smile. He wore your patience thinner than tulle. And you were hoping to be doing the same to him.

On the eve of opening night, a storm broke out over the city. You hadn't received word from your ride at all---a man you had been seeing on and off for a while, but still managed to keep him at enough distance that the two of you weren't official. You glared at your watch, deciding to say fuck it and just walk the five or so miles it was to your apartment. Your rain jacket was already soaked, your umbrella proving to be no help whatsoever. But you persevered knowing full-well that if your character, Eden, were in the situation, she wouldn't have batted an eye before dropping him and his lack of communication. As the water soaked into your boots and chilled you rather quickly, you bit your tongue, regretting not waiting for the bus. Cars past you at rushed paces, wanting to get home to their loved ones if the rain worsened---you figured.

Your heart began to pound as a car pulled up beside you, causing you to wrap your hand around the bottle of mace in your coat pocket. The window rolled down, but you kept walking. "Do you need a ride?" Hollered an almost too familiar voice.

You crossed your arms and continued to walk. "No!" You called back.

The car rolled forward and you heard the driver door open. George stepped out slightly, drawing his jacket up to fight against the biting wind. "Come on! Look at this weather!"

"I'm good! Go home, George!"

He tilted his head at you with a deadpan expression. "Don't make me throw you over my shoulder." You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes, sliding into the passenger seat of his car and taking down your hood. George watched as you did this. He slipped off his jacket. "Here." He pulled his hoodie over his head. "Take your shirt off. You'll get hypothermia."

"Excuse me?" You nipped.

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "I won't look. You're soaked. Take my damn hoodie." You looked out the front window and then let out a huff. You peeled off your upper layer, no longer giving a fuck if George saw you in your bra. You looked over to him while he leaned his arm against his door, his cheek resting against his fist as he held his hoodie out to you. You pulled the garment over your head and couldn't help but snuggle into it. It was oversized and warm, smelling just like George. Your cold skin seemed to sigh against the soft material and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes at how content you were. George put the car into drive after he had made sure you were taken care of. You slipped your hands into the long sleeves and fought not to dig your nose into the neckline to breathe him in. His scent was like kryptonite to you and you hated it. "Are you hungry?" He asked, looking at you briefly and flipping the heat more to your side. He smiled almost proudly to himself at the sight of you enjoying his hoodie and the safety of his car.

You quickly braided your hair, attempting to combat the wet feeling of it against your neck. "No, I'm fine thanks."

"Come on. My treat? I've been a dick to you all week."

"Fine..." You mumbled. He found a nook of a restaurant jabbed into a part of London you had yet to explore. The rain had finally let up to a drizzle as the two of you made your way inside the softly lit eatery. The two of you tucked into a booth and ordered almost instantly, you now realizing just how hungry you actually were. "What were you doing in that part of town so late?" You finally asked after they brought out a hot tea for him and topped off your coffee. His large hands cradled the steaming mug in front of him, his nose slightly red from the chilly weather outside.

He chuckled slightly. "I forgot my script in the theatre and---for some reason---couldn't stop thinking about it." You nodded hesitantly. "Why were you walking home?"

You shrugged nonchalantly. "Such beautiful weather we're having. Thought I would take an evening stroll," you joked, causing him to chuckle lightly. George's face seemed to glow slightly under the cozy lights of the restaurant, his hair slightly disheveled and damp from the rain. You now got a full sight of the t-shirt he was wearing that commemorated a football team from the graduating year ahead of yours.

There was a beat of silence between you two. "Why..." George tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, attempting to find the right words. You furrowed your brows. "Why do you hate me so much?" If you weren't looking at him, you would have sworn he was smiling behind his question.

"Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously."

"You dated my best friend, Sophie, and broke her heart," you answered bluntly.

George sent you a puzzled expression for half a second before grinning slightly. "Yeah, but I was ten."

"Yeah, but now she's twenty-one and we still talk about it," you quipped, taking a sip of your coffee.

He exhaled. "I was... I was ten..." He furrowed his brows. "She was pretty. Hasn't some other guy broken up with her since me?"

You shrugged again. "No, she has this mindset where if she starts getting the feeling that things aren't working, she cuts out."

"She's been dwelling over me for how many years?" He couldn't fight the grin threatening to creep across his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek in thought. "I guess that would be twelve years." He whistled. "We're good at keeping grudges."

"Well, if I ever run into her, I'll apologize." He added a lump of sugar to his tea. "Is that the only reason?"

You debated ripping him a new one, but the tiredness you felt reflected in his eyes. "It's the kick-off point. Why? Do you wanna be buddies now?" You joked, sticking your spoon in your mouth.

He rested his hand in his chin. "Nah," he pursed his lips in thought. You furrowed your eyebrows at his answer, letting a titter escape your lips. "You're too young for me." You laughed a bit harder.

"Age is just a number, baby," you hummed and he smirked at you, a sparkle in his eye.

Comment if you would like to be tagged in the next part! Let us know what you think!

[ceealaina]

Title: Hot for Teacher Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - AU: Teacher Ship: Stony, IronBros Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Humor Summary: Tony is the established physics teacher, Steve is the truly terrible new guidance counsellor. It's not quite love at first sight (but it's a pretty close thing). Word Count: 10,660

Tony drew in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers told you what now?” 

Miles grinned at him, like he knew he was raising his blood pressure with every word. “He said that he didn’t go to university. He actually dropped out of school when he was sixteen, and took a solo road trip across all of the US before he got his GED. Said it was the best decision he ever made.”

“Of course he did.” Tony fully dissociated for a moment, staring off into the distance before he shook his head with a full body shudder. “Well, regardless of what your esteemed guidance counselor may have told you, you should very, very, very strongly consider not doing… Any of that, and definitely going to university. And uh… Maybe come to me if you need help with those university applications, cause… Jesus fucking Christ.” 

In the back of the room Cassie and Kamala giggled. “Mr. Stark!” Cassie gasped, feigning shock. “You said a bad word!” 

Tony just scrubbed a hand over his face. “I hate you all,” he informed them cheerfully.

*

By lunchtime, Tony was still seething over the fact that the new guidance counselor was advocating for dropping out of school. He had term projects to approve, but couldn’t focus on the proposals, fingers thrumming irritably against his desk. He lasted all of five minutes before he was getting up, marching down the hall to said guidance counselor’s office and knocking sharply on the open door. 

“Mr. Rogers? Could I—,” 

Tony cut himself off abruptly. 

The thing was, he hasn’t actually met Steve Rogers before. And while he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, it wasn’t someone built like a brick house — although, he’d heard that he was friends with Barnes, that was how he’d gotten the job, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. But their new guidance counselor was tall, blond, and all kinds of muscley, biceps flexing in a way too tight t-shirt as he bit into a ridiculously large sandwich. He’d jumped at Tony’s sudden arrival, turning big blue eyes up at him, and good god, that was one handsome man. 

Shaking his head, Tony forced a tight smile to his face. “Could I have a word?”

He nodded quickly, frantically trying to swallow down his enormous bite, and Tony worked very hard at not imagining what else he could stuff his mouth with. Mr. Rogers scrubbed a hand over the back of his mouth, wiping off some sauce that had spilled, and did an awkward, half stand. 

“Yes, yes of course,” he said, reaching his arm out. “Sorry, we haven’t met yet?” 

Despite how frustrated he was, Tony couldn’t help grinning; the man was an absolute mess. He moved forward to take his hand, feeling a little swirl of satisfaction at how obviously surprised he was at the strength in Tony’s grip. “Mr. Stark -- Tony.” 

“Oh yeah! Physics, right? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve.” He moved to pull a stack of folders off a chair. “Please, sit down. What can I do for you?” 

Tony took the offered chair, leaning back against it comfortably as he eyed Steve for a long moment. “Steve, can I ask how long you’ve been a guidance counselor?” 

“Uhh.” Steve shifted a little. “Not long?” He gave a crooked smile that Tony did not find endearing. “About a week and a half?” 

“Yeah. That’s what I figured.” Tony sighed. “Steve, are you encouraging kids to drop out of high school?” 

“What?” Steve’s eyes went wide and horrified. “No! No, of course not! I…” His gaze shifted to something guilty. “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

Steve gave him a hopeful smile. “I may have mentioned something about my own… Choices... as a teenager.”

“Uh huh.” Tony gave him a ‘go on’ gesture.

“It was meant to be inspirational! They get so stressed! They’re trying to decide their entire lives when they’re only kids! So you know… I was trying to show them that not everyone has to follow the same path but also things can turn out completely differently from how you expected and it’s never too late to go back?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “Well, at least you seem to genuinely care about the kids, I’ll give you that. But Steve, we’re just trying to get them as prepared for life as we can. You can’t give them ideas like that, and you especially can’t make them think things’ll work out all hunky dory if they do.” 

“Hunky dory?” Steve repeated before realizing that wasn’t really the point of what Tony was saying. “Right,” he said, looking properly chastised now. “Right, no, of course. That makes sense.” 

“Okay.” Tony was lingering now, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Great.” He got to his feet and headed for the door before he could make things weird. “It was nice meeting you, Steve.” 

*

Over the next couple weeks, Steve kept spotting Tony around the school. He tried not to ogle him like a creeper, but judging by the way Bucky laughed at him every time they ate lunch together, he wasn’t successful. He couldn’t help it. Tony had been like some kind of gorgeous whirlwind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering about him. 

And then, two weeks later, he was back with the same sharp knock and consternated expression. (Steve, thankfully, wasn’t stuffing his face this time.)

“Tony! What, uh… Something I can help you with? I’ve been doing everything by the book, I swear. No more epic road trip stories.” 

Tony drew in the deepest breath, like a complete drama queen. “Steve. I understand a book told you to do it, but the Chamber of Secrets this is not. Please stop telling my seniors that abstinence is the only truly effective birth control method. The ones in my AP Physics class are taking it as a personal challenge to design an IUD that works as a cum trebuchet."

Steve blinked at him for a very long minute, trying to work out if he was serious, trying not to-- 

He burst out laughing. Full on, hand-on-his-chest, eyes streaming, can’t breathe laughter. It was a solid three minutes before he began to calm down and when he finally stopped laughing, Tony was just watching him. He was doing his absolute best to look annoyed, but Steve could see the little hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. 

“That’s uh… Thank you,” Steve managed, tamping down on another burst of laughter. “I really needed that today.” 

“Yeah,” Tony told him dryly. “Glad I could help.”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’ll, uh. I’ll take that under consideration.” 

*

When Tony came in the next morning, his AP students were huddled in the back corner, all giggling in that terrifying way that only teenagers could manage. He was so not feeling it -- he was still waiting for that last coffee to kick in -- but he took a rejuvenating breath and asked the question anyway. 

“Okay, let’s hear it. Get it out of the way so we can get to sciencing. What’s so funny?” 

This set off another round of giggling, half the kids blushing, and none of them quite looking at him. It was, finally, Riri who spoke. 

“This morning Mr. Rogers told America Chavez that homosexual sex is also a 100% effective birth control method.” 

Tony stared blankly out the window for a long minute. “Of course he did,” he muttered. “Okay, as thrilling as Mr. Rogers’ questionable sex ed is, let’s get started on some actual physics, hmm?” 

While the kids got settled for the class, Tony took a moment to collect himself. It was quite possible that Steve was kinda a total troll. 

It was quite possible that Tony kinda liked him. 

*

Of course something got back to a parent, who complained about the school promoting a homosexual agenda. Steve didn’t get in trouble, exactly, but it was brought up in the staff meeting.

The enormous jar of rainbow-coloured condoms showed up on Steve’s desk the next day. 

Tony had heard it through the student gossip line that, in addition to them being available for anyone to take as needed, he was getting students to guess how many there were in the jar, as some kind of ice breaker. If they were close, they got a mini Kit Kat bar. 

He made it half a day before he was stopping in to see for himself. 

Tony had prepared some semblance of an excuse for why he was there, some actual reason that the physics teacher might have had for engaging with the guidance counselor (again). But when he tapped on the door, Steve was looking up with a smile like he’d been expecting him. And then his gaze settled on the enormous jar of condoms, and Tony forgot to pretend to be there for anything else. 

“What the fuck?” He couldn’t help laughing, a little incredulous. “Okay Steve, they’re teenagers. How much actual sex do you think most of them are really having?” 

Steve shrugged unapologetically, but he had an absolutely shit-eating grin on his face. “I just like to be prepared. Wouldn’t want to run out.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, eyebrows arching. “Wanna guess all the flavors? None of the students have gotten close yet.” 

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he blinked at the jar. “They’re not even flavored.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s the joke,” he told him, like that was supposed to have been obvious. “Fine, since you’re so smart. Guess how many there are in the jar.” 

Tony glanced back over at the jar, wrinkling his nose for about half a second. “Seven hundred and fifty… eight,” he announced.

Steve blinked. “What?” 

“What?” 

Still leaning back in his chair, Steve stared at Tony, then stared at the jar, then stared back at Tony. Then he shot forward and grabbed the jar, upending the entire thing over his desk. Making eye contact with him, he picked up a handful and started tossing them back in the jar one at a time, counting them out loud as he went. Tony started laughing, the sound close to a giggle. 

“You’re not seriously going to count them all.” 

Steve gave him an imperious look. “Gotta see if you’re right. Now be quiet. You’re going to throw off my count.” 

Tony knew this was ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave. He kept telling himself he shouldn’t be encouraging Steve, but he stayed anyway, watching and laughing as he meticulously counted out each and every condom. 

He’d made it to 616 when Bucky appeared, looming in the doorway as he poked at his phone. “Hey Stevie, you ready to go for… Lunch?” He trailed off as he looked up and saw what the two of them were doing, his eyebrows going sky high. “Uh. I’ll come back. Looks like you two are gonna be awhile. I don’t know what this is annnnnnnnd I don’t think I want to.”

“It’s science, Bucky,” Steve told him snottily, not looking up from his condom count. 

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is not science.” 

“Of course it is!” 

“Right,” Bucky said. “I’m just gonna…” He pointed for the door, but neither of them even looked his way as he left again.

“It’s math, Steve, and it’s barely that,” Tony insisted. “This is... counting.”

Steve gave him a look like he was an absolute fool. “I may be a lowly guidance counsellor, but I still know what counting is, Tony. The science is figuring out whether you can actually calculate the number of condoms in the jar --,”

“I can.”

“-- Or if you were spouting shit to fuck with me.” 

“I wasn’t. And it’s still math, Steve. You’ve got the volume of the jar, and then size of the condom square. Math.” 

Steve stared at him for a long minute and then, without breaking eye contact, tossed another condom back into the jar. “Six hundred and eighteen.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him. “That was six hundred and seventeen.” 

Steve ended up having to start over twice, and Tony was so busy laughing at him that he didn’t realize until 2:05 that he’d missed both his lunch and his free period and was, in fact, five minutes late for his AP Physics class. 

“Shit,” he yelped, hopping out of his seat. “Those kids don’t let anything go, I’ve gotta run.” He paused in the doorway just long enough to give Steve a smirk. “Let me know when you’ve proved me right!” 

The kids were all scattered around the room when he got there, Riri, Harley, and Kamala giggling over something on their phones, Cassie and Kate comparing notes on homework that was definitely not for physics, and Peter and Miles experimenting with something in the corner that may or may not have been explosive. Tony shook his head, feeling a headache coming on. 

“Okay, I’m sorry I’m late, unavoidable circumstances. Let’s get started, yeah?” 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter called, beaming at him. Nobody made any move to go to their seats. “If you’d taken seven more minutes, we’d be legally allowed to go home.” 

“That’s… Not even remotely true.” He shook his head and clapped his hands together. “Come on, children. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

“Shouldn’t’ve been late then,” Harley snarked, but at least they were finally heading to their seats. 

It was halfway through class when there was a knock on the door, and Tony opened it to some blonde girl he vaguely recognized from Nat’s lit class. 

“Message for you from Mr. Rogers!” she chirped, heading off down the hall before he could ask further. His students were focused on their readings, and Tony took advantage of the moment to open the note, frowning as he tried to decipher the writing. 

758 exactly. There’s something wrong with you. Also, I owe you lunch. Thursday?

Tony sat at his desk, and managed to read it over five times before Kamala happened to look up and see him. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark? Why are you grinning like that?” 

*

As soon as his lunch period started on Thursday, Tony headed down to Steve’s office, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t been looking forward to this since he’d gotten Steve’s note. The door was open, waiting for him, and he headed inside and promptly yelped as a king-sized Kit Kat bar was launched at his head. 

“What the fuck?” He flailed as he tried to catch it, somehow managing not to drop it on the ground. He wasn’t particularly graceful about it, and Steve was openly laughing at him. “What was that for?” 

Steve shrugged, unconcerned. “The kids get a mini Kat Kat if they’re close in their guess. You were exactly right, so I figured you get extra chocolate.” 

Tony eyed him suspiciously and ignored the little delighted thrill in his stomach. “But you didn’t know how many condoms were in the jar.” 

“Okay, so I just gave everyone a mini Kit Kat. Sue me.” 

Tony just narrowed his eyes further. “So is this our lunch?” 

Steve actually snorted. “Do I look like I survive on giant chocolate bars?” he asked, immediately flexing his biceps and twitching a pec. Tony started laughing, couldn’t stop himself, and Steve looked immensely pleased with himself. “No, Tony. I got us sushi.” Tony felt his eyebrows creep up to his hairline, and Steve huffed. “Okay, what?” 

“Nothing!” Tony said quickly. “No, I just… You don’t strike me as a sushi guy.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “And what kind of guy, exactly, do you think I am?” 

Tony shrugged as Steve passed him a container of sushi. “A giant, uncultured gym bro neanderthal who knows more about planking and protein shakes than he does guidance counselloring, but somehow got a job here anyway?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Steve muttered, but he was obviously fighting a smile. 

Tony shrugged. “It’s like you know me or something.” He laughed, knocking back a tuna roll. “How did you get this job?”

“Bucky. We’re old friends, and now he’s my roommate too. So when the job opened, he hooked me up.” 

“I mean, everyone knows that much. I meant why here? Why a guidance counsellor? No offense Steve, but you’re kinda terrible at it.” 

Steve didn’t look offended in the slightest. “Hey, I wanted to teach art, but the job was already filled and somehow administration thinks art and guidance counselling are interchangeable.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Living in Brooklyn ain’t cheap. Somewhere since high school it became trendy, I guess? It was this or baristaing at a coffee shop near my apartment, but their coffee smells like soap.”

"Yikes."

"Yikes, indeed. Anyway, enough about why I’m so terrible at my job.” Steve nodded at the chopsticks in Tony’s hand. “Eat your damn sushi, Tony. You don’t eat enough.”

Tony paused with another tuna roll halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean, I don’t eat enough?”

“Every time you come in here it’s always over lunch. And then you usually stay through lunch and your prep period, and you don’t eat anything the entire time. You need to eat more.” 

“Okay, stalker.” Tony shifted a little uncomfortably. “What are you, my nonna? I eat fine.” He huffed and slunk down in his seat, pulling his sushi tray closer on the desk. Steve just blinked back at him placidly and then reached out, putting his hand over top of Tony’s. 

“It’s okay, Tony. I’m a guidance counsellor. You can talk to me.”

He said it in the same way that people on television crime procedurals tell the women they find in basements that they’re with the FBI, and Tony started laughing despite himself. And then he nearly choked on a California roll when Steve started passing him glossy pamphlets on healthy lifestyle choices. 

The next day Tony made a point of showing up for lunch with a huge gas station soda and an enormous bag of pretzel sticks. Steve didn’t stop grinning the entire time. 

*

Before either of them had realized it, it had turned into something of a routine. Not every day, but usually two or three times a week, Tony would forgo his lunch or prep period, or both, and come bother Steve instead. Steve had expressed concern once, that he wasn’t using his prep periods to, you know, prep, but Tony had assured him that being a genius came with some benefits. And really, his visits had quickly become the highlight of his day, and he had a feeling that Steve was enjoying them just as much, so he wasn’t going to worry about it too much.

Once Tony had gotten over his initial concerns about Steve’s guidance counselling methods, the two of them got along ridiculously well. Tony gave Steve shit constantly but it never failed to make him laugh, and he was just as good at giving it in kind. They bickered constantly, but it was friendly and easy and familiar. 

Tony had never made friends easily. He got along great with all his coworkers, but with the possible exception of Nat, they were more friendly acquaintances than full friends. When he was a kid, Jarvis had told him that he was just too smart, that the other kids would catch up to him eventually. But that hadn’t seemed to happen, even as an adult. He didn’t know if people were freaked out by his multiple degrees, or if it was the chaotic energy he gave off, or most likely, some conflagration of the above, but aside from a few close friends -- who, admittedly, he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world -- people didn’t really… Warm to him. 

Steve, though. Steve was different. Almost from the beginning Tony had felt a connection with him, and while he never failed to let Tony know how impressed he was by what he could do, he never seemed intimidated by him either. Tony would never say it to his face, but he kind of adored him. 

*

Tony popped his head into Steve’s office a few minutes before the end of the day, arching an eyebrow when he found him frowning over some a manual with stick figures doing what looked like some kind of sport -- soccer, probably. He cleared his throat, and couldn’t help smiling back when Steve looked up and positively beamed at him. 

“Getting a head start on your weekend reading there, Steve?” 

Steve blew out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face. “Soccer,” he explained, confirming Tony’s suspicions. “Apparently, I’m the new coach of the girl’s soccer team.” He pouted a little. “Administration is really hard to say no to.” 

Tony considered this, taking a seat across from Steve and propping his feet up on the desk. “Why isn’t Clint doing it? It is kind of his job.” 

“He’s busy with archery finals, it seems.”

“Archery… Finals?” Tony repeated, blinking curiously. “We’re the only school with an archery team. They split into two and compete against each other.” 

Steve shrugged miserably, and Tony tossed a pen at his forehead to get him to smile. 

“Hey, come on, there are worse things you could be coaching. Those lacrosse kids are wild.” 

“Yeah…” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “Except for two tiny little details. First, those girls are intimidating as fuck. They scare the shit outta me. And second? I… Don’t actually know anything about soccer.”

Tony snorted with laughter, before he realized Steve was serious and did his best to compose himself. “I’m sorry, how do you not know anything about soccer? You’re…” He gestured vaguely to indicate Steve’s general physique, and Steve sighed glumly. 

“Yeah, I think that was the administration’s thought too. But I grew up as a scrawny art student. I know baseball, and that’s it.” 

“Huh. The more you know.” 

Steve groaned. “So now I’ve got to learn all these soccer rules for tomorrow, none of which make any sense to me.” He frowned down at the manual. “And aren’t there linebackers and quarterbackers and shit?” 

Tony couldn’t help laughing then, not even trying to hide it. “Steve, that’s football.” 

“Yeah,” Steve replied, in his ‘duh, Tony,’ voice. “Which is soccer.” 

They were still arguing about the two different kinds of football when Steve realized that he had parking lot duty. Not one to admit defeat, Tony had tagged along with him. He was once again trying to explain why American football was called football (“but it doesn’t even make sense if they barely use their feet, Tony!”) when a bright, flashy convertible had pulled into the pick-up lane. Tony caught a glimpse of Steve’s confused frown before the car pulled forward enough that he could see the driver and he went stock still, grabbing at Steve’s arm.

“Honeybear?” he yelped, loud enough that a couple of the lingering students turned their way as well. Steve gave Tony a bewildered stare but Tony hardly noticed, his eyes focused on Rhodey, leaning up until he was practically out of his seat and waving his arm at him, looking delicious in a tight white t-shirt that pulled against his biceps. 

“Hey, Tones! Guess who’s back, baby!” 

Tony made a noise that a lesser man might have even called a squeal, but he felt exactly zero shame about it as he took off for the car. “Bye Steve, gotta go, see you Monday!” he hollered over his shoulder as he went. He didn’t bother with the door, hopping over the side and sliding into the passenger seat. Rhodey lingered just long enough for Tony to give him an enormous kiss on the cheek before the two of them sped off.

“Uh. Bye,” Steve told them empty space beside him.

*

“So,” Rhodey said, yelling a little to be heard as they sped down the freeway with the top down, wind whistling through the car. “Was that your big gay crush?” 

Tony choked on nothing, turning his head to face him so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. “My what?” he repeated. 

Rhodey looked over at him long enough to give him a stare. “Literally every conversation we’ve had in the past few weeks has been about him, Tones.” 

“That’s not the proper use of the word literally,” Tony grumbled, and Rhodey shrugged, letting it slide. 

Tony couldn’t though, milling it over in his head, and when they turned into the Italian restaurant in Bridgeport, he turned to Rhodey again. 

“Okay, no, so wait. Why do you think I have a crush on Steve?” 

“Tones…” Rhodey gave him a fond smile. “Come on, man, we’ve been friends for how many years now? I know what you look like when you’re crushing on someone. Even if apparently you don’t.” He gave him a pointed look, snorting when Tony just rolled his eyes at him. “You talk about him all the time. And sure, some of it is ‘complaining’ about how big and beefy he is, but a lot of it is how smart he is, and how funny, and how he’ll always call you on your shit… You don’t have to actually say the words, Tony. I can just tell.” 

Tony pouted at the dashboard, mulling this over. “You’re dumb,” he decided finally, ignoring Rhodey’s snickers as he climbed out of the car. “Hurry up, asshole. I’m starving. And I don’t have a crush on Steve!” 

“Alright, alright, fine,” Rhodey soothed, obviously not believing him in the slightest. “Whatever you say.” 

Tony shot him a glare and didn’t hold the door for him as he headed into the restaurant. After that was the usual flurry of activity when Anna spotted them from behind the cash and hollered at Roberto to come out from the kitchen so they could make their usual fuss over the two of them. He and Rhodey had found the place by accident on a Boston to New York road trip in college, and at this point they'd been coming back for fifteen years. 

With all the distractions, Tony was well into the garlic bread before another thought occurred to him. “Waiiiit,” he mumbled around a full mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Rhodey, who blinked back at him over his glass of wine. “Is that why you rented the flashy convertible? And why you used the pick-up lane? You never do that, you know it’s just supposed to be for students that time of day. Did you do that so Steve would see? Because you think I’m into him?” 

Rhodey shrugged, looking smug and pleased with himself. “I already know you’re emotionally stunted, but I figured if Steve hadn’t gotten off his ass and asked you out yet, maybe there was a chance he was just as bad.”

“Or, he could just be straight,” Tony pointed out which, he realized belatedly, wasn’t exactly a denial of his crush on Steve.

Rhodey just snorted. “No man could be totally straight around you, Tones. You’re a catch,” he informed him, just to see Tony try to not look all pleased and delighted. “Anyway, I figured -- assuming he’s not straight -- that it couldn’t hurt to give him something to be a little jealous of. And he was definitely gonna be jealous of me.” Rhodey lifted his arms, flexing them so his t-shirt once more strained against his t-shirt. “If you’re a catch, then I’m Moby Dick baby.” He beamed when Tony giggled into his salad. “You need me to be your big gay wingman? I’m 100% here for you, Tones.” 

Tony just shook his head, still laughing. “You’re such a dumbass,” he informed him.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” 

* 

The weekend had been everything Tony hadn’t realized he needed, the two of them doing all their favourite things and generally leaving a wake of chaos wherever they went. Tony loved his life, felt very fulfilled by what he did and wouldn’t trade it for anything else. But he always missed Rhodey like a limb when he wasn’t around, and having him back again, even temporarily, set something at ease in Tony’s chest.

The only problem, if he could really call it that, was that he couldn’t stop thinking about what Rhodey said about Steve. He hadn’t brought it up again, but that didn’t stop Tony from playing it over and over again, considering the previous conversations he’d had where Steve had been mentioned, with Rhodey, but with Pepper and Happy too. And, as an extension of that, how careful he was not to bring him up when he and Nat would sneak out for gelato over the lunch break, or how he didn’t join in when Bucky would start ragging on Steve in the staff room, all, “Jesus Rogers, you already look like you could stop a helicopter with your bare hands. Maybe give the gym a rest, huh?” (although Tony did have to hide his own smile at the teasing, and a couple times had caught Steve watching him with a look that one might have even described as pleased.)

And of course, thinking about all of that led to thinking about Steve himself. He was gorgeous, obviously, Tony would have to be blind not to be aware of that. But there was also how much he found himself looking forward to spending time with him, more than almost anyone else. He still hadn’t gotten tired of him, not really, not even when they argued, and he took special pride in finding ways to make Steve laugh. Steve could have been 5’2 and 96 pounds, and he would have enjoyed spending time with him just as much. 

By Sunday night, when Tony found himself lost in thought again, only to realize that he’d spent the last five minutes thinking about the very specific wrinkles Steve would get in his forehead whenever he smiled, Tony had to admit defeat. 

“Fuck,” he announced to his empty living room. “I’ve got a big gay crush on Steve Rogers.” 

To Tony’s credit, once he’d come to a conclusion, he wasn’t the type to sit back and wallow in it. Despite leaving him only an hour later, he grabbed his phone, dialing Rhodey’s number. 

“Hey Tones.” Rhodey answered on the third ring, sounding lazy and also like he was in the middle of eating something. “Miss me already?” 

“Always, honeybear,” Tony responded automatically. “But also, uh… So… You may not have been so crazy after all.” 

“About your big gay crush on the guidance counsellor?” Rhodey asked, because he knew Tony like nobody else. “Obviously.” 

“Shut up,” Tony whined. “You know how much I hate not knowing things.” He grinned at the warm huff of laughter that came down the line at that. “So how would you feel about… Still playing the big gay wingman?” 

“I’m listening…” 

“Our JROTC volunteer is out for the next few weeks, some kind of family thing, and I thought, you know… You can volunteer? Take his place for a bit? And then, you know, you and I can hang out like all the time while you’re on leave, and as an extra bonus, it might make Steve jealous.” 

“I mean, there’s a big difference between that, and picking you up at school in a shiny car,” Rhodey pointed out. “Sounds kinda complicated. I’d probably end up meeting him, even. You sure you don’t just want to… Tell him how you feel?”

Tony scoffed down the line. “I know you like to offer that advice for every situation, but I want you to know that the only reason that worked for you and Carol is because she thought your dumb drunk ass needed protecting. You triggered her alpha instinct, that’s all.” 

“If you say so,” Rhodey told him, but Tony could already tell he was going to say yes. “Fine. But I want you to know, it’s a stupid idea, and I’m only agreeing so I have a chance to bug you while you’re trying to work.” 

Tony beamed. “And that’s why you’re my favourite.”

*

Somewhere along the way, Steve’s (not-so) subtle ogling of Tony had turned into a full-on crush, and that had grown until Steve was pretty sure he was half in love with the man. He was doing his best to be cool about it, but he’d never met anyone quite like Tony Stark before. He found him constantly drifting into his thoughts, despite his best efforts otherwise, couldn’t seem to stop daydreaming about them being more than friends, even when he tried to tell himself that Tony was probably straight.

Or at least, he had thought that Tony was straight, right up until Friday afternoon. 

Steve knew it was none of his business. He had his own life out of work, and so did Tony, and that was fine. It didn’t stop him from driving himself crazy wondering who the hell the gorgeous man who picked Tony up from school on Friday had been, and what their relationship was. The sheer joy that had been in Tony’s voice when he’d called out to him had left Steve’s heart somewhere around his knees, made worse by the so obviously affectionate and familiar nickname. He hadn’t missed the enormous cheek kiss that Tony had given him either. And sure, a kiss on the cheek didn’t necessarily scream romantic relationship, and they could just as easily be friends. But there was an ugly part of Steve that kept rearing up, insisting that he would consider himself and Tony to be friends, and he had never gotten a kiss cheek. 

By Monday morning, Steve was practically itching to see Tony. Bucky, he knew, was totally sick of him after Steve had spent the entire weekend oscillating between moping and distraction, and refusing to tell him why. But the Home Ec room was right beside Tony’s classroom, so instead of going to his own office, Steve followed Bucky upstairs and then stood outside the doorway as Bucky made sure the cooking stations were prepped for the day, talking at him from the hallway. And the second he saw Tony making his way toward his classroom, looking sleepy and still a little out of it, he turned away entirely, not noticing that he was abandoning Bucky mid-sentence. 

“Hey Tony!” 

It went downhill from there. Tony made a strangled yelping noise, which Steve would have found adorable if not for the way everything he was holding scattered. His bag fell from his shoulder, flap opening and sending a cascade of pens and pencils and erasers flying across the floor. The cell phone he’d been texting on hit the ground with a thud that made Steve wince, and a tumbler went rolling off down the hall, leaving behind a dribbled trail of coffee leaking from the lid. 

“Oh shit,” Steve said, staring horrified at the mess for a minute before he moved to help, grabbing the tumbler as it started to roll past him and getting coffee all over his hand in the process. He ignored it, moving to help gather Tony’s other things. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Tony reassured him, already bent over and picking things up. “I was just distracted. You startled me, is all.” 

“Still,” Steve insisted, and was about to explain further but he and Tony both reached for a pen at the same time, heads cracking together. “Oh god,” Steve groaned as Tony clasped a hand to his forehead with a pained noise, cursing creatively under his breath. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” They both straightened up, and he offered Tony a rueful smile. “I was just gonna ask how your weekend was.” 

“Oh!” The pain on Tony’s face melted away entirely as he smiled soft and sweet and pleased in a way that Steve didn’t think he’d quite seen before. He tried to keep his own smile normal, but all of a sudden he couldn’t remember what a smile was supposed to feel like, or what he even normally did with his face or arms or hands. Tony didn’t seem to notice. “It was really, really great. I got to spend the entire weekend with my Rhodeybear. It was just what I needed. He’s like my other half, and I missed him like crazy. Hey!” His entire face lit up. “You should meet him sometime.” 

“Right.” Steve nodded as normally as he could. “Yeah, maybe. That would be… Great. I’m glad you had a nice time, Tony,” he added, at least managing to be genuine with that. “I gotta get to work, but I’ll catch you later?” He started to head for his office, and then realized he was still holding the travel mug. “Oh right, here.” 

He handed it over, taking a moment to suck away a stray drop of coffee that was sliding down the side of his index finger. Then Tony made a worrying wheezing noise and Steve stopped, staring at him. “Are you alright?” 

Tony nodded just a couple more times than Steve would have classified as normal. “Yup,” he said, suddenly mumbling and not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. “Just gotta…” He trailed off and darted into his classroom without any further explanation. 

“Okayyyy?” Steve said. 

*

Tony was acting weird, there was no doubt about it. Steve had assumed that after crashing into each other, they might meet for lunch as usual, but otherwise go about their day. Instead, Tony had popped into his office no less than four times that morning, every time on official business, but with fiddly little things that could have been passed along by a student messenger, or an email. But he’d also spotted Tony outside his office several other times, sometimes lingering outside his door absorbed in something on his phone, sometimes just walking down the hall just a little too casually to be entirely normal. Steve couldn’t think of another reason for him to be in this particular hallway, but Tony would look up from his phone like he hadn’t realized this was even where he was, and a couple of times Steve had glanced up just in time to see Tony’s eyes dart away like he’d been staring at him right before. The few times they’d made full eye contact and Steve had smiled at him, Tony’s return smile had been what Steve might have called shy, if it had been coming from anyone besides Tony. 

His first thought was that Tony had figured out about the crush (not an obsession, whatever Bucky said) Steve had on him, and was freaked out, and that’s what was making him act so weird. But when they met up for lunch everything seemed normal between them, and Tony certainly didn’t act like someone who was freaked out. And Steve knew Tony well enough by now that he was pretty sure if his feelings weren’t returned, Tony wouldn’t hesitate to let him know -- gently, and he’d probably be real sweet about it, but he wouldn’t let Steve drive himself crazy wondering, wouldn’t give him a chance to make a fool of himself over it. 

And then he thought it might have had something to do with his company over the weekend, this Rhodey guy that Steve was absolutely not jealous of, that he was the one that had Tony all twisted up in knots. Tony had sounded smitten with him, but then again, Tony was dramatic like that. It didn’t have to mean there was anything there. And that wouldn’t have explained why he was acting so weird around Steve, who didn’t even know the guy.  

Which led Steve to his next thought, the one that felt a little too fantastical to be true, even if the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to fit. Because the little smiles, the almost blushes that Tony would have… What if Steve’s feelings weren’t as one-sided as he had thought? Maybe Tony had a thing for him too, and that’s why he was acting all flustered and strange? Steve knew he was probably not the most unbiased opinion, that wanting it to be true was maybe skewing his perspective a little, making him see things a certain way. But if Tony didn’t suddenly hate him -- and he was positive that wasn’t the case -- was it so crazy to think that the little glances and smiles were a sign of something more?

He felt bolstered by the idea, unable to let it go once it was in his head. He’d never been one for letting things slide, and almost immediately he made up his mind to Talk To Tony, to maybe ask if he wanted to grab coffee after work, or a drink, and then he could tell him how he felt, see if he felt the same. 

His morning flew by, distracted by daydreams of what would come next. Steve had always been a visual thinker, and he could picture all too clearly the slow smile that would spread across Tony’s cheeks when he realized his feelings weren't unrequited, the way he’d duck his head and glance up through his eyelashes (a move that always drove Steve crazy). How drinks could lead to dinner, which could lead to walking him home and -- since it was Steve’s daydream, dammit -- having Tony inviting him inside. What it would be like to finally get to kiss him, to feel his skin under his fingers with purpose, instead of just a glancing brush as they shared food or walked along beside each other?

He was still daydreaming about it when he walked into the gym right before lunchtime, intending to ask Clint another question about soccer, and stopped dead. 

He had been very, very wrong.

Tony was there, for some reason, but even more confusing was the fact that this Rhodey guy was with him. Not that the why of it really mattered, Steve supposed. Tony was practically hanging off the other man’s back, crooning into his ear. As Steve watched, he pressed a big sloppy kiss to Rhodey’s cheek. “Come on, platypus,” he wheedled, delight evident in his voice. Rhodey was shaking his head and pretending to be annoyed but there was a fond, pleased smile on his face and his hand came up to hold on to Tony’s arm around his chest. 

Steve may have been accused of being hopelessly optimistic, but he wasn’t naive. Whatever had had Tony acting so weird before, it obviously wasn’t a crush on Steve.

Suddenly very much needing to be anywhere else, Steve turned to try and sneak back out of the gym and promptly tripped over a stray basketball. He couldn’t help cursing as he rolled his ankle, and then winced as the sound rang out through the mostly empty space. 

“Steve!” Tony looked startled at his sudden appearance, doing a weird little fidgety dance before he forced himself to still and gave him a bright smile. “Come here! You didn’t get to meet him last week, come meet my Rhodeybear!” 

Steve started to mumble out some excuse about paperwork or meetings, but almost instantly Tony was across the room, grabbing him by the arm and forcibly pulling him over to Rhodey, who was very obviously trying not to laugh. 

“Rhodey, this is Steve, our new guidance counselor. Steve, this is Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes. I talked him into volunteering with the ROTC kids while he’s on leave for the next month.”

Steve managed a smile as Rhodey reached out, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “Hey man. Good to finally meet you. Tones talks about you all the time.” 

He glanced at Tony over Steve’s shoulder, and something on Tony’s face made him laugh. His eyes were sharp and perceptive and Steve felt a flare of panic because oh shit, he knew. Somehow this man had figured out that Steve had a crush on his boyfriend. And the worst part was that he didn’t seem angry. There was no threat in his handshake, his smile open and friendly.

“Uh, good to meet you too,” he managed, doing his best to smile back at him and not look like he was having a complete panic attack. 

There was something so effortlessly cool about Rhodey. He was, frankly, gorgeous, with his teasing smile and ridiculously well-fitting leather jacket to boot, but he seemed genuinely nice too. He could have been a total ass, throwing it in Steve’s face that he was with Tony, but there was nothing of that in his body language. Steve couldn’t help liking him immediately, and he usually had good instincts for these things. But he also couldn’t help being intimidated and more than a little jealous -- although, for a moment he wasn’t entirely sure of which one. It was definitely Rhodey; his ridiculous crush was on Tony, so of course Rhodey was the one he was jealous of. It was maybe also a little bit Tony because fuck, Rhodey was cool. 

Steve was barely aware of the conversation that followed, feeling his heart sink lower every time he caught a glimpse of the besotted smile on Tony’s face. They made small talk for a few minutes, and at least he was pretty sure that he hadn’t said anything too strange, even if he sort of felt like his own face was melting. There were vague plans made for the three of them to get together for drinks or something in the next few weeks (Steve had exactly zero intention of following through on that particular idea) and then he was finally able to make his escape. Feeling like an absolute idiot, he slipped his way down the hall and back to his own office, where he shut the door firmly behind him and slunk down in his desk chair, letting his head fall against the desk with a slight bang, whining into the empty space. 

After that, Steve backed off a little, not wanting to seem like he was encroaching on their relationship. He was crazy about Tony, but he wanted him to be happy, and the two of them seemed right together. And clearly Rhodey had a good effect on Tony, because after a few more days whatever seemed to be going on with him stopped too. The manic behaviour evened out as he went back to how they’d been before, if maybe slightly more awkward than they’d once been. They still met for lunch regularly, still got along stupidly well, goofing around and joking and making each other laugh. If their lunches were slightly less often than they’d once been, well, Steve supposed that made sense when Tony’s boyfriend was right there at the school with him. He should be glad he still got lunch with Tony at all. 

A few more weeks, and even that slight awkwardness had faded. They were warm and  familiar around each other again, their new normal somehow less and more than it had been before. Steve still had a thing for Tony, but now it felt settled into him, like it was just a part of who he was. He didn’t want to admit it, but he thought he might have settled right into being completely in love with Tony. But he could be normal around him, because that was just part of their friendship, loving Tony just a part of who he was now. He felt right being around Tony, even if there was sometimes a bittersweet ache, and he wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything. 

But every once in awhile, he’d catch Tony giving him a soft, sad smile that he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to see, a look on his face that Steve might have described as just a little disappointed, and he couldn’t help wondering. Maybe if Tony had been single, and maybe if Steve had been just a little less scared, they might have been able to have something more between them. 

*

Tony huffed out a sigh, having no idea what was going on in the movie he was watching with Rhodey. “Honeybear,” he said. “I think it’s time to admit defeat.” 

“Tony Stark? Giving up?” Rhodey rolled his head along the back of the couch, giving Tony a slightly tipsy grin. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” 

“Hilarious,” Tony told him dryly, grinning despite himself. “I’m serious. I don’t think Steve is into me. I thought he was jealous at first but…” He shrugged helplessly. “And we’re friends. Like, really good friends. He’s probably the person I trust most after you. I shouldn’t try to mess with that, right?” 

“I don’t think it’s messing with it, exactly,” Rhodey told him. “Starting a romantic relationship with him isn’t necessarily better or worse than being friends. It’s just... Different.” He obviously understood Tony’s point though. “You really don’t think there’s anything there?” 

Tony just shrugged again, a crooked, self-deprecating smile on his lips, and Rhodey rubbed his hand over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry man,” he told him, hauling Tony against him for a hug.

“It’s okay,” Tony mumbled into Rhodey’s neck, though his arms squeezed around his waist, holding on tight for a long minute. “Really. I love having him as a friend too, and I’ll get over the whole crush thing eventually. I’ll be okay. I always am.” 

Rhodey hummed, sounding like he didn’t quite believe him. “Still. Ice cream and bourbon in the meantime?” 

Tony managed a real smile then, though he didn’t let go of Rhodey right away. “Definitely.”

*

Steve sat alone in the restaurant, fighting a smile at the sympathetic looks he kept getting from the wait staff. He was meeting his friend Sharon for dinner after she’d been overseas for the last six months on a work contract. But Sharon was notoriously bad at personal appointments, so it was hit or miss whether she’d actually turn up or if she would cancel at the last minute again. Steve wasn’t really phased, used to it by now. 

He was occupying himself with games on his phone when he heard a familiar voice. He frowned at the screen, trying to place it before he looked up and made awkward eye contact with someone he’d rather avoid, and then realized it was Rhodey. Immediately he wondered if Tony was with him, and his heart beat a little faster at the thought, even though he’d just seen him a few hours ago. Looking around for them, he smiled when he spotted Rhodey’s familiar form first. And then his heart stopped beating completely for a moment. 

Rhodey wasn’t with Tony. 

There was a woman with him, tall and muscular with short blonde hair. She was just as gorgeous as Rhodey, the two of them an admittedly stunning pair. She was laughing too, not quite as loud, and there was a softness in her eyes as she smiled at him. Then Rhodey’s hand came up, sliding across the table to tangle his fingers with hers, the movement familiar and intimate. He leaned forward, murmuring something soft that Steve couldn’t catch, and then she was pulling back with a wide smile. 

“Check please?” she hollered with absolutely no decorum, making Rhodey burst out laughing again. 

Steve ducked behind his menu, watching the two of them gather up their things. He didn’t particularly want to confront Rhodey here and now, just in case he was wrong, but fortunately (or not) they only seemed to have eyes for each other. Rhodey helped her with her jacket, making the woman snort and try to elbow him, and he kept his hand very low on her back, right on the edge of being inappropriate, as they walked to the door. Steve turned away as they walked right past the table, but he looked up in time to see them pause in the foyer, mostly out of sight, before the women fisted her hands in Rhodey’s shirt and pulled him for a slow, lingering, hungry kiss. Rhodey looked downright dazed when she’d pulled back, until she said something else to make him laugh and the two of them slipped out the front door. 

Steve stared at the space where they’d been for a long time after they’d gone. 

“Shit.” 

*

Sharon did end up cancelling on him, and with Bucky away on a bonding trip with some old army buddies, Steve was left alone to stew around the apartment all weekend. Normally he’d probably have gone to Tony for advice, but that obviously wasn’t an option here and Steve didn’t know what to do. 

He knew he should tell Tony; he’d want to know if it were him. But then there was the question of if he’d want Steve to be the one to tell him -- or, for that matter, if Steve wanted to be the one to tell him, which he definitely didn’t. If Tony had figured out about Steve’s crush on him, would he even believe him? He honestly didn’t know what he would do if Tony thought he was making it up to get between him and his boyfriend. He’d like to think Tony knew him better than that, but people could get weird about their significant others. 

By Monday morning, Steve still had no idea what he was going to do. He had barely slept all weekend and was tired and miserable, found himself taking the long way round to his office to avoid the chance of running into Tony in the staff room. 

“Wow, Rogers. You look terrible.” 

Lost in thought, Steve nearly jumped at the sound of Nat’s voice. He looked up to see her sitting in her classroom, grading papers and watching him with an amused look on her face. 

“Yeah,” he rubbed at the back of his neck absently. “I just didn’t sleep well.” 

Some of the amusement slid off her face and she arched an eyebrow at him. “You okay?” 

Steve shrugged. ”Just… Life,” he offered vaguely. Then he blinked at her, eyes going wide. “You can help me though! I… I need you to talk to Tony for me. It’s kind of a big thing. Please, Nat? I don’t know what else to do. I don’t… I’m worried he’ll hate me if I tell him, or won’t believe me, or both. But it won’t seem so…  personal coming from you. Blunt honesty is your whole thing, right? Plus he’s more likely to believe you when he’s already half terrified of you anyway.”

Nat was back to looking amused, trying to follow Steve’s rambling. “And why is Tony half terrified of me?”

Steve winced. “Uh… There’s a rumor going around that you’re secretly a Russian sleeper agent?” 

“The Cold War ended in 1991,” she told him without missing a beat, voice eerily atonal. “Russia and America are allies now.” 

There was a moment of absolute silence before she cracked up and Steve glared at her.

“That. That is exactly why people are scared of you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him airily, before relenting with a sigh. “Okay, so what is it that you need me to tell Tony?” 

“I… Rhodey’s cheating on him,” he blurted out all in a rush, before he could chicken out. “I saw him at dinner on Friday with this gorgeous woman, and they were very clearly together, kissing and everything, and I just… I don’t know how to tell him. 

Nat stared at him, blinked twice, and then burst out laughing. Steve frowned at her, taken aback, but as Natasha kept on laughing, to the point that there were actual tears coming from her eyes, Steve got more and more cranky. Folding his arms across his chest, his frown turned into a full on glare as he waited for her to get control of herself. 

“Are you done?” he asked when she finally stopped laughing what felt like five minutes later. “Cause I’d really like to know what’s so funny about all of this.” 

But Natasha just shook her head, still grinning. “Let me know when you figure it out, Steve.” 

*

By the end of the day, Steve had successfully managed to avoid Tony, and he was exhausted. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, and he didn’t particularly want to. He’d missed Tony today. Even on the days when they didn’t get to spend time together, there was always a smile and wave when they passed each other in the hall. This just felt weird. 

Going the long way again, he made his way to Bucky’s classroom, hovering in the doorway as he watched Bucky put away the last of the materials they’d been using. 

“Hey Buck?” he said after a minute. 

Bucky looked up, frowning at the look on Steve’s face. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” 

Steve ignored that. “Remember, when we were kids, and I grabbed you before you fell off the fire escape showing off for Jenny Calloway? And you said you owed me your first born? I’m cashing in. I need you to do something for me, no questions. And if you laugh at me, I’m gonna punch you so hard your grandkids’ teeth’ll hurt.”

“Well that seems unnecessary,” Bucky drawled, leaning back against one of the work stations. “You know I’d do it if you just said please. Seriously, Stevie, you look like you’re about to pass out. What’s up?” 

“Rhodey is cheating on Tony. I saw him with someone, and… They were definitely together. Can you just like… Let it slip? I’m afraid if I tell him he’ll think I’m lying, because --,”

“You’re desperately in love with him?” he asked, lips quirking up. 

“Buck!” Steve looked around like Tony was suddenly going to pop out of the corner of the classroom and call him out on it. “Come on, this is serious. Don’t fucking laugh at me!” 

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, and was quiet for a minute, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was still fighting back a smile. “Right, okay,” he said, pushing off the desk and striding into the hallway. Steve’s eyes went wide.

“No, shit, wait,” he hissed. “I didn’t mean right now!” He started to follow Bucky down the hall, then stopped after a few feet because Bucky had already reached Tony’s classroom, and he didn't think he wanted to be here for this. But while Steve was debating if he could make it to the stairs before Bucky said something, Bucky knocked sharply on the side of the doorframe. 

“Hey! Stevie thinks you’re dating Rhodes,” he announced, before wandering off down the hall. Steve stared after him because what the fuck, that wasn’t what he’d told him to say, and where was he even going?

Before he had a chance to process, there was a crash from Tony’s classroom and then faintly, the sound of his voice. “Did he just…?” He sounded strangled, and then he was skidding into the hallway, hair standing up about five inches from his head and eyes wild. 

“Um, hi,” he said. Steve could practically see his chest heaving from here.

“Hi,” Steve said back a little stupidly. 

“I’m not dating Rhodey,” Tony burst out, staring at Steve with wide eyes like he couldn’t look away. “Never have been. Well, we had an almost thing in university, but -- that’s not the point. Rhodey and I aren’t together.” He gaze shifted, looking at Steve imploringly. His tongue flicked out over his lips, and Steve swallowed hard. 

“I just…” He took a couple tentative steps toward Tony. “He showed up, and you were all over him, and you had about five million nicknames for him and so… I figured…”

“Nope,” Tony said quickly. “We’re just… Like that. Rhodey is very firmly in love with somebody else. We, uh… I was helping him shop for engagement rings last week.” He took a deep breath and closed the remaining distance between them, eyes somewhere around Steve’s collarbone. “Listen, Rogers. I know Carol looks like a lesbian, but so does Clint with the wrong glasses and a slim-cut pant, so please reconsider your personal biases and trust me. It's her and Rhodey. And it's.... it's you and me. Right?"

Steve could feel the ridiculous smile splitting his cheeks. “Yeah?” he asked, a little breathless. 

“I mean…” Tony looked up at him through ridiculously long eyelashes. “I’d like it to be?” 

There were a million and one things that Steve could say in response to that, but he couldn’t think of a single one. Instead, he curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck, dipping his head to kiss him softly. Tony made a soft, whimpery noise, hands coming up to clutch at the front of Steve’s shirt. He couldn’t resist deepening the kiss, letting his tongue tease against the seam of Tony’s lips for a minute before he pulled back again, just a little. 

“I thought… You were acting so weird. I thought you’d figured out I had a crush on you and, you know. Didn’t know how to turn me down.” 

Tony made a pained noise, and then started laughing, pressing his face into Steve’s chest. His entire body was shaking with it, and Steve couldn’t help grinning as he wrapped his hands around Tony’s back. 

“I was acting weird because I had a thing for you. I figured you couldn’t possibly be interested because otherwise, why wouldn’t you have made a move? I was laying it on way too strong. I’ve never been the best at processing stuff like that. I get a little… manic.”

Steve wanted to kick his own ass, but it was hard to be upset when he finally, finally had his arms full of Tony. “Really?” he teased instead. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Tony bit his pec in retaliation — it was right there, how was he supposed to resist? — sending a full-body shudder through Steve. There wasn’t much for him to do after that but pull Tony up into another kiss, and then another, until they were making out lazily right there in the hallway. 

They might have kept going forever, if they hadn’t been interrupted by a very pointed throat clearing. 

“Okay, seriously guys?” Bucky protested. “I’ve been killing time with Nat for the past half hour. Can’t you do that in one of your own classrooms? Or better yet, a goddamn bedroom? Preferably not in our shared apartment,” he added with a glare at Steve. 

Steve could feel his cheeks heating, but he didn’t really feel embarrassed, especially not with the smirk Tony was leveling at him. Steve shivered again, and his smirk grew wider. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, tossing a look at Bucky over his shoulder. “We’re going. Don’t get your ponytail in a knot.” Then he caught Steve’s hand. “Can I uh… can I buy you dinner? I know a great Italian place. Not too fancy, cozy… intimate.”

Steve’s face hurt from smiling so hard. “Sounds like a date,” he said, getting a goofy little delighted giggle out of Tony. 

“You know,” Tony said as they headed for the parking lot, fingers entwined. “You don’t have to be jealous of Rhodey’s nicknames. I can give you a nickname.”

Steve snorted. “I’ve heard some of Rhodey’s nicknames. I think I’m okay.” 

Tony stuck his tongue out at him, softening it by standing on tiptoe to give him another quick kiss. “Oh, what about Cap? You know, like Captain America? In the old comic books? You kind of look like him, all big and blond and buff and like you could single-handedly take down a Nazi base and rescue the damsel in distress. The damsel in distress being me, obviously.” 

Steve just laughed, shaking his head and happier than he’d ever been. “Tony, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”

@tonystarkbingo

[asterekmess]

S3A - E1

Okay, instead of making like massive reblogs of thoughts as I have them for the episodes, I’m gonna just make a massive bullet point list that I’ll add to throughout the episode, so you get One post per episode instead of “Like all nine million of them.”

I put Read-More’s because I care.

Thoughts (of which I have far too many):

I’m in the first ten seconds of the fuckin episode. Why the fuck is Braeden electrocuting Isaac? Like, look, I wanna like Braeden. I have issues with her entire moral system, but I still wanna like her cus’ she saves Isaac. But...how am I supposed to do that when the literal first thing she does is electrocute my boy??? He’s knocked out, not DEAD (not that that’s how shocking someone’s heart even Works) and it’s not like she needs to trigger the healing process. He’s already got Gaping slash wounds on his chest. He’s hurt enough. ALSO. “Be quiet”?? R U Serious? You’re electrocuting him. YOU try being quiet with fucking jumper cables on your chest.

The CGI...is so bad. Oh my god. What the absolute fuck. it looks like Sharkboy & Lavagirl. And why aren’t Ethan & Aiden’s claws doing anything to the bike?

I AM CONFUSION. If the twins don’t have to take their pants off to do the Transformers shit, why do they have to take off their shirts? Can...can I just skip that? Make the big bad werewolf wear an ugly hybrid of two of their stupid ass sweaters? Or do Ethan and Aiden really just like being shirtless that much? (I wouldn’t put it past them)

What is with Braeden and the electricity?

The writing in this show, what the fuck? “I thought I told you to hold on” EXCUSE ME, ma’am. He literally just passed out. His bad I guess.

Guess who has to add the anti-scott tag to this now? Anyway, I hate that Allison’s bit in the intro is her kissing Scott and then drawing the bow. Like, they’re broken up. They don’t get together in this season. Why are they kissing in the intro? That had to have Totally pissed off Scallison fans.

There’s my boy, holding up lizard tattoo designs. Pls tell me he took a pic and sent it to Jackson with the caption “It’s YOU.” Like, yes, way too soon, but man it’s fuckin funny.

This tattoo artist is a good-ass salesman. However, p-sure he’s not a good-ass artist if he had to wrap Scott’s arm up That badly. Like...they have stuff for that. Fuck, the one I got on my ankle, they used SaranWrap and Tape. Just needs to be kept out of the open air for a bit. You don’t need like eight layers of gauze. I do feel for Scott tho. That tat probably cost him like $50-75 before the tip. Oof.

Eyyy, time to be salty. Ya’ll know I love Allison, but does it get any more clear that she totally bailed on everyone after the warehouse? She went to France! She doesn’t even know what happened to Jackson after he got cured. ALSO. Lydia says “Derek taught him the werewolf 101.” Not Scott. Derek. XP

Lydia, honey, leave Allison alone. If she doesn’t want to go on the double date, go alone and make it an orgy. Fun, right? Wait, no. Don’t. You’re 16. Don’t do that!

When exactly did they “agree to give each other the summer”? She said “I’m breaking up with you.” he said “I’ll wait” and then she cried into her dad’s arms. Like...why didn’t we get to see this apparently incredibly important conversation? (maybe because it didn’t happen??)

I fucking LOVE the “I’m just gonna say hi. HEYYYYY! You know....they probably didn’t see us.”

The most horrific thing about that moment was the bad CGI.

I WANNA POINT OUT how cute it is (in a like, sad way cus’ she’s terrified) that Lydia is close enough to Stiles now that she immediately goes for his side and they like insta connect with the eye contact. Not in like a Stydia way, but like, they’re close. she trusts him and goes to him when she’s scared, even though he’s human and you’d wonder if she shouldn’t go to Scott instead, since he’s the werewolf.

SCOTT WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING THE DEAD DEER. Your ability to smell chemosignals/sense emotions has nothing to do with touching. Stop poking the dead animal.

Wait, WHY is there a full moon in that shot? The full moon isn’t for like a week! I COUNTED.

...what? Why the fuck does Braeden think Scott’s an Alpha? Why tho? Like, seriously? WHY? He’s not an Alpha yet. Nowhere near it. And if she knows bc Deaton told her (i think he was the one who hired her) then shouldn’t she know he isn’t one yet? IF SHE KNOWS that she can tell Melissa abt werewolves, WHY doesn’t she know that Scott’s Melissa’s son? Where is the LOGIC?

Scott’s morning routine is giving me Legally Blonde vibes. ~my perrrfectt dayyy, nothing standing in my wayyy~

I can’t tell. did Allison get highlights, or straight up dye her hair brown?

This sweet moment between her and her dad. Yes. Pls.

I will admit, I like getting to see each of their mornings.

Lydia...who are you fucking? Honey, you’re sixteen. Why isn’t whoever the fuck is in bed with you also getting ready for school? What.....the fuck?

Completely different Beacon Hills High School set. I really can’t blame the writers for that.

Wtf Davis? You list Erica and Boyd as being 17...since when? They’re supposed to be entering their Junior Year of high school. They would be 16 GOING ON 17. ANd what the hell do you mean Erica’s birthday is August 16th? She said in the last season that she’d “Just turned 16 a month ago” that was Spring semester. ???? Come on, guys. Seriously. Writing 101, getting to know your characters. I don’t know anyone writing a novel who doesn’t know the exact birthday of their characters. Plus, they cut 2 in. from Gage Golightly’s actual height, while adding an inch to Sinqua’s (according to google, which isn’t always reliable) Whatever. Boooooo.

Uh...that principal was threatened by the Argents. Victoria herself promised to torture him if he didn’t resign. Why does he look so surprised by the fucking sword in his office? For that matter, why is he at the school at all? He KNOWS the Argents attacked him. This should cause problems!

Honestly, Lydia, I love you. Like, go for it. Nothing wrong with not wanting to date and just wanting to have fun. My issues stem from YOU BEING 16. Yes, teenagers have sex. But this is ridiculous. Why is there so much sexualization? I knew a grand total of like....two teenagers who had sex at 16? and like one who did at 15 (which they say in canon she and Jackson were banging before her birthday). Like, it’s not nearly as common as y’all are making it out to be. Knock it off.

WHEN DID MELISSA MEET ISAAC PROPERLY? WHEN did that HAPPEN?

....so why didn’t Derek answer the phone? They literally never explain? He shows up, so...why didn’t he answer?

I’m SO InCredibly Disturbed by Jennifer having everyone’s phone numbers. HOW? In What Way is that REMOTELY appropriate? WHY did no one question it? Why didn’t STILES or LYDIA question it?

So tiny, bugs me so much. He didn’t turn his phone off. He turned his screen off...is it that hard to have him do the right one?

uhhh. Werewolves can smell other werewolves. Wanna tell me why Isaac can’t tell a werewolf just walked in the room? An ALPHA no less?

why TF are Kali’s iris’ and pupils so fucking massive?

So...what was the deal with the birds? Don’t they say later that Jennifer like summoned them? So they aren’t from the Alpha pack scaring animals? And also, how would the Alpha pack be scaring animals if they’re like, in the middle of town? They said in S1 that “wild animal sightings are up” like what 75% or something? “As though something is scaring them out” but that made sense, bc we knew Peter was running around in his full-shift (it’s a fucking full shift, it’s just fucked up) in the woods. But these Alphas aren’t, they’re integrating. So is it Jennifer that the animals are afraid of? Like, does she have sPoOkY aura or something?

More bad CGI.

WHy is no one responding to the woman stumbling around in nothing but a hospital gown?

ONCE AGAIN. Werewolves can Sense Werewolves. SCOTT you sensed Isaac in a BOYS LOCKER ROOM. DUKE IS RIGHT THERE. WHT THE FUCK?

angry smoker doctor  “Why don’t you wheel this joker out of here?” “I’m gonna go smoke” Grrr

Sir. clearly your mask wasn’t tied on appropriately. it shouldn’t just Fall Off when you touch it. there are Protocols! STOP THE SPREAD. also, someone wanna tell me why none of these alphas can keep their claws in? A lil flashy flashy red eye would’ve done the trick just fine.

Okay no, seriously what the FUCK is up with these contacts, you guys? THEY”RE MASSIVE???

Ugh, can I just *swoons* “I’m an Alpha!” slice “So am I.” That is just so fucking smooth. Woo. I feel so safe ohmygod. PLUS. Derek KNOWS Ennis. I can’t imagine how satisfying that had to be.

Uh, Derek, honey. You’re Isaac’s legal guardian. You can just Sign Him Out of the hospital. With clothes and everything. What are you doing?

Honey, what do you mean the county took it over? If they were gonna do that they’d have done it six fucking years ago. Unless you gave it to them, it’s still yours? I did the research. Like HOURS of it.

What do you MEAN there’s a magic healing herb that helps with Alpha wounds? Since when do Alpha wounds need extra healing, I thought they just took a lil longer? ALSO why is it growing INSIDE your house???? SCOTT. Isaac is fucking UNCONSCIOUS. Can your tattoo fucking WAIT A MINUTE?

I have so many questions. WHY does Braeden know who Allison is? If Lydia’s immune to magic, WHY is Braeden able to bruise her? WHY can Braeden DO magic? and WHY is Chris allowed to take Lydia out of school?

ALLISON you had Geometry LAST YEAR why are you holding a GEOMETRY BOOK??

ohhhhmygod, Derek. Derek. DEREK. Your eyes are pretty on a normal day. That little Blink and ruby reds thing? Ohmygod. I just. I wanna take a picture and just stare at it BUT. how tf does this whole red eye thing work? You can see in the dark....but now you also have x-ray vision? You know, I could believe it was thermal vision...maybe? If Scott was still healing for some reason maybe the tattoo would be brighter? Otherwise I have no idea what is going on.

BUT SCOTT”S NOT 18??? He’s Still fucking 16, or even 17, but not 18. WTF? He needs parental consent in the first place (i should’ve mentioned this in the other note abt the tattoo)

uhh...seriously? When someone breaks up with you and tells you not to talk to them anymore...why do you need a reward for doing as they asked? Like, yeah, you’re sad, I feel that. But making it a ‘reward’ sounds kinda weird. You know what makes it really easy not to text the ex that doesn’t wanna talk to you? Delete her number.

WHY THE BLOWTORCH? SOMEONE WANNA EXPLAIN? Peter’s not covered in tattoo from when he was literally burned alive, why the FUCK would a blowtorch create a black tattoo on Scott’s skin?

DEREK. HONEY. Why would Stiles be able to hold Scott still??? Scott’s a werewolf.

All this bullshit to explain away Posey’s tattoo that he got. Like, damn dude, we all like tattoos, but you have a job that needs bare arms on the regular. That was kinda rude.

Where did braeden get clothes? I forgot to ask.

uhhhh. Ephemeral might technically work in that sentence, but that’s still really awkward.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DESTROY HIS DOOR? YOU FUCKING ASSHAT. And WHY the instant fucking grr face? “why’d you paint the door?” uhh, leave him alone? He can do what he wants? It’s his house? Also, don’t get all fucking rude about the alpha pack. He told you it was a rival pack.

KALI. PUT SOME FUCKING SHOES ON. JESUS.

Why exactly does Scott see the symbol and INSTANTLY put together that it’s got anything to do with the Alphas or the animal attacks? Where is the logic jump there?

What exactly was the POINT of popping your claws if you were gonna kick her in the face???

UH, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell Scott that there was a whole other person with Isaac?

What is with the face touching, Duke? I’ve never known a blind person who actually wanted to rub their hands on my face to ‘find out what i look like?’

Really not a fan of all these weird jumps and camera angles with the awkward reflecting.

WOah WOah. Allison gets to PAINT her APARTMENT? Wtf kinda BULlshit is that? My landlord won’t let me do that. Rude.

I know they’re imprisoned and it sucks, but they’ve been there for four months, they had to have gotten bored. Do you think they broke into any of the security deposit boxes to see if anything was left behind?

Last thoughts: They really went for it with this episode. I have plans to change a lot of it. Hopefully I can mesh the changes with the general plotline.

[nikkzwrites]

Yesterday Once More | Dark Fix-It Fic Series | Chapter 1

A/N: This fic is one that I started with my OC because honestly, I personally didn’t like how season 3 ended. So I am rewriting all of Dark with my OC Annalise Dahlheim. I hope you all like it. Some things will be expanded more on just for more depth to Dark that season 3 kinda skipped over so.... yeah.

CW: Canon Typical Triggers: Smoking, Sex, Language, Drugs, Drinking, Death, Violence.

Word Count:  5.1k

[Next Chapter] 

Meeting Jonas felt as if the world finally started turning for Annalise. Her lips felt dry seeing the blonde boy. Her tongue instinctively licked her lips to moisten them once more. His bright blue eyes were just as Martha had described. He was different though. He did not radiate the happy energy that Martha had once described.

“Anna,” Bartosz called to pull her out of her trance from seeing Jonas. He leaned over to his best friend and teased loud enough for everyone to hear, “Forgive her. She’s still a foreigner so her German isn’t the best.”

Annalise grumbled, “Please don’t call me that.” She rubbed her shoulder anxiously. She never understood why Martha decided to date such an ass when she was previously dating such a sweet boy, especially since the ass was the sweet boy’s best friend.

“Hey.” Jonas gave a small smile, “You know, it’s a fairly pretty name. It’s close to my mom’s name. Hannah.”

She laughed, “Did you just say my name was pretty because it sounds like your mom’s?”

Jonas blushed. He bit his lip for a second. “Yeah.” he quickly changed the subject, “You’re German isn’t that bad.”

Annalise rolled her eyes as she watched everyone walking towards the doors, “Well, Bartosz likes to make fun of me.” She spotted Magnus and said, “I’ve gotta go talk to him.” She honestly just wanted to leave the awkward conversation.

Bartosz laughed and explained to his friend once she left, “She lives with them since her exchange status, you know. Anna is weirdly close to Magnus. Martha always asks me to stop pointing it out but the way she looks at him is fucking weird.”

“Did you tell anyone,” Jonas changed the subject.

Bartosz chuckled, “I told everyone you were on a two-month school exchange in France, playing hide-the-baguette. Conveniently enough, Annalise came over from America a month later so no one really questioned much.” He looked at Jonas who still seemed worried, “Relax. Come on.” He walked towards the school and encouraged his friend, “Come on.”

Magnus looked down at Annalise and rolled his eyes at the girl’s smelling of him, “Yeah. Mikkel is at school safe. You should have just waited for all of us if you were that worried.”

“You smell like weed,” She commented pulling away from the older boy.

Magnus shook his head, “Who are you? Franziska? What has gotten into everyone today?” A slight blush grew on his face.

“Franziska,” Annalise teased dancing just out of his reach, “That’s a big surprise, Magnus.”

“Shut up,” He turned his head and asked, “Shouldn’t you go find Martha?”

Annalise nodded then turned just in time to spot her, “There she is, I’ll go. Bye Magnus. Have fun~”

Martha looked at her foreign friend. “You left without me this morning,” she complained, “where did you go?”

Annalise shrugged, “I just walked to school.” She lied. She had gone to try to pick up some bread for herself that morning and past Ulrich on her way coming back from the bakery. He made her promise not to tell anyone about it, so she had eaten as much as she could before getting to school before passing it off to one of her other classmates.

“Assemblies like this are for idiots,” Bartosz reasoned, “They need to get rid of them.”

Jonas didn’t reply, but instead, kept an eye on Martha who was walking towards them. He truly smiled for the first time since getting home. His hopeful eyes watched as she moved to sit.

Bartosz moved to give Martha a place to sit next to him. When he noticed Annalise with her, he whispered to the person next to Jonas to move.

Martha sat in between Bartosz and Jonas. Sorrowfully, she gave Bartosz a kiss as he wrapped an arm around her. Completely unaware of Jonas’ face changing to one of hurt, she linked her hand with Bartosz’s.

Bartosz leaned over and confessed as if an afterthought, “Maybe you did miss something.”

Annalise shifted uncomfortably on the other side of Jonas and looked away. A sick feeling filled her stomach seeing how Jonas’s expressions changed. She just bit the inside of her lip and decided to stay out of it for the moment though.

Martha looked up at Jonas to finally fully study him. She mustered up her courage to let out a, “Hey.”

Very quietly, Jonas replied back, “Hey.”

Martha looked around the room trying to figure out exactly what she wanted to say next. She could feel that they were making this moment awkward for everyone. “How was France,” She asked.

Before Jonas could respond, Bartosz answered, “French. How else?” He laughed at his own joke causing Martha to look at him unamused.

Annalise leaned over, made a face at him, and said, “Shove off Bartosz, that wasn’t even funny.”

“Oh, shut up Anna,” Bartosz rolled his eyes and sneered back at her before he and Annalise shifted to sit correctly in their seats once more.

Everyone started to applaud as Katharina walked onto the stage as if the entire school were thankful that she interrupted the awkwardness between Jonas and Martha. The woman thanked everyone for their warm welcome and then started on the assembly about Erik Obendorf. This caused numerous students to whisper amongst themselves as Jonas and Martha just looked at each other.

Afterward, they all walked to their classes. Annalise lagged behind with Jonas kind of just following Bartosz and Martha. She really didn’t know what to say to make the situation any better. So she instead elected to stay silent. The girl did overhear Bartosz talking about meeting up to go to the caves later to get the remains of Erik’s dope. She shook her head and stormed past them, “Excuse me.” She walked into her and Martha’s shared first period.

Bartosz smiled and chuckled, “She really needs to get some dick. Magnus still hasn’t done that yet?” He teased Martha.

Martha lightly hit her boyfriend, “Gross.” She pulled away and followed Annalise into the classroom to try and apologize.

Bartosz anxiously waited until the middle of the first period with Jonas to discuss going to the caves. First, he needed to make his friend laugh though. While Franziska gave her report, he leaned over to his friend, “You know what I’ve been wondering for days? If the blackest hole of all is parked in Franziska Doppler’s ass.”

Jonas finally chuckled. A giant grin spread across his face and he tried to suppress his laughter. 

“But, seriously,” Bartosz stated seriously, “what I really wonder is this: If Erik didn’t run away, but got snuffed out or something instead, then all his dope is still in the caves.”

Jonas looked at his friend confused.

Bartosz continued, “He kept his entire stash there.”

“So,” Jonas asked.

Bartosz shook his head, “Oh, man!” He sighed at his friend’s foolishness, “We go in there and….bingo!”

Jonas scoffed, “That’s bullshit.”

“It’s awesome,” Bartosz counteracted.

Martha leaned over to Annalise and whispered, “I know you two aren’t the greatest of friends, but can’t you and Bartosz try to be at least a bit more polite and nicer to each other?”

Annalise twirled her pencil in her hand, “Tell that to him first. I’ve always been the one to try and play nice.”

“Well, you are coming with us to the cave tonight right,” Martha pleaded, “It would be really awkward if it’s just me, Bartosz, and Jonas.”

Annalise smiled and stifled a laugh, “Isn’t Magnus also going? Want another person there so you can hoe with your boyfriend without feeling bad about Jonas.”

“Shut up,” Martha blushed and hit her shoulder against the other girl a bit harder than she expected that caused Annalise to fall out of her seat with a large clang of the metal stool against the cement floor.

The bell rang signifying the end of the school day before any of the kids could realize.

Jonas called Bartosz on his bullshit then asked, “Then you’ll go around selling it or what?”

Bartosz hummed, “No dude. We’ll smoke half of it ourselves. And if there are capacities on the market, you don’t hesitate.” He further explained, “We’ll go there and get the stuff. Easy Peasy.”

“Who’s getting what stuff,” Magnus’s deep voice called over to the two boys as he and his sister joined them atop the stairs.

“We’re going to the caves tonight,” Bartosz explained to the boy before going to greet his girlfriend with a deep kiss. 

Magnus laughed. He turned towards Jonas and asked, “You turning into boy scouts?”

“Bartosz thinks Erik’s dope is there,” Jonas replied.

The group started their way down the stairs to meet up with Annalise who was waiting hanging off the metal banister on the outside of the stairs. Martha spoke up, “Fanny told me they once found a dead squirrel with five legs there.”

“You’ll believe any old crap,” Magnus teased his sister.

Annalise laughed and said, “Come on Magnus. Leave Martha alone. Let her live in her dreams.” She hopped off to pounce on her surrogate brother’s back causing him to stumble a bit. They both started to laugh and Jonas smiled at the pure ridiculousness of what was going on between Magnus and Annalise. 

Martha turned to the two laughing like crows, “Just because you can’t see past your nose doesn’t mean there aren’t things going on out there that the nuclear power mafia keeps secret from the public.”

Magnus pushed Annalise off while Martha went on her rant. As he passed his sister, he told her, “Don’t forget to breathe.” Franziska, as if on cue, stood in the doorway blocking the group. She looked up at the tall older boy. Magnus carefully moved past her. “Franziska.” he acknowledged her.

“Magnus,” she replied walking backward to eye him up and down before continuing her way into the school.

Bartosz, Jonas, and Annalise stood back to watch her walk away in awe with what had just happened.

Just as Franziska was out of range, Martha looked at her brother disgusted, “You got a crush on her now or what?” 

“Shut up,” Bartosz muttered under his breath.

Annalise chuckled and murmured, “So it’s mutual. I see.”

When Magnus ignored her, she said, “Hey, idiot.”

“Okay, what the hell.”

The other boys started to ‘Woah’ at Martha and Magnus. Starting to get into the middle of the near fight, Jonas said, “Let’s go to the caves tonight and look.”

Bartosz gently slapped his friend’s shoulder, “Yeah dude.” He did his handshake with Magnus before taking Martha’s hand and walking ahead, “Come on.”

Jonas stood there and watched as the other three walked for a moment. He was completely lost staring at the sight in front of him that he nearly panicked at Annalise bumping her shoulder against Jonas’s.

“Do you live at school or are you coming,” Annalise teased as she started to urge him to walk with her.

Jonas laughed a bit while shaking his head, “Yeah. Thanks.”

The rest of the group was so far ahead at that point that Annalise decided to try to make some conversation. She smiled at Jonas and walked ahead of him a bit so she could walk backward and face him, “So, you know the first time I got here, I wasn’t used to so many men speaking German. In fact, I was a bit afraid of German.”

Jonas looked up and raised a brow at her, “Yeah?” He didn’t one hundred percent want to be rude since she was Martha’s friend, but he really didn’t know where she was going with telling him this.

Annalise smiled and continued with her story, “Well, when I was first moving here for the program, I heard that Katharina was going to pick me up. So I was waiting for her when a tall authoritative intimating man walked up and started speaking to me in full German.” She started laughing, “I knew what he was saying, but I couldn’t help it. I just started crying right there in the middle of the airport. Everyone just kept staring at Ulrich and me until someone asked what was wrong. You should have seen his face.” Annalise doubled over laughing at her recollection.

Jonas smiled and chuckled. He couldn’t help but feel a bit more cheerful after seeing her eyes sparkle. Her laugh infected him and before he knew it he was laughing as well even though he didn’t even think the story was that funny. He just really enjoyed the fact someone was putting so much effort into making him feel normal again. Jonas looked at her again. It was as if she was made of vibrant colors and radiating it outwards. The pinkish-orange hue that she emitted from just existing in his life was like watching the most beautiful sunset. 

Annalise finally was able to stop laughing as they got where they needed to part ways so that way she could pick up Mikkel and then head home. They stopped and looked at each other for a moment. “Please don’t tell anyone I told you that,” She plead with him jokingly, “Bartosz would never let me live it down.”

“I won’t,” Jonas nodded. He laughed.

Annalise laughed again and said, “Jonas. Don’t laugh! Makes me think you are going to tell him as soon as I’m gone.”

Jonas continued to laugh, “What do you want me to do about that, you’re laughing too. You stop first.”

“Promise me, Jonas,” Annalise giggled.

The boy wiped happy tears away from his eyes, “I promise.”

“I promise what,” She dogged him.

“I promise,” Jonas smiled, “that I won’t tell them so that they will make fun of you. Only I get that.”

Annalise shook her head, “See you later asshole.” She giggled and blushed as she walked away.

Jonas watched her leave. He walked towards his house still watching her. “See you later,” he whispered under his breath as he waved towards her leaving form before he turned around to continue walking back home before the meetup.

Annalise touched her tree of life necklace. Its silver comforted her as she waited for Mikkel to walk over to her. She scanned to try to find the little boy who had grown to be like a little brother to her. Her heart felt scared knowing she was going to keep Ulrich’s secret from him. It was for the best, but she never wanted to lie to him.

When Mikkel spied Annalise, he smiled and ran up to her. He gave her a forceful hug that made them have to spin to keep balance. He yelled, “Lise! You came to pick me up!”

Annalise smiled and said, “Yeah I wanted to be the one to walk you home before Magnus took you to Heide’s.” She laughed as she held the boy, “So you will never guess who I met today.” She grabbed Mikkel’s hand so that they could walk together.

Mikkel laughed, “Did you finally meet Jonas?! He’s great, huh?”

Annalise ruffled the boy’s hair with her other hand, “Yeah.” She didn’t notice the pink painted on her face until Mikkel spoke up.

“You’re blushing,” He teased, “Do you like him?”

Annalise unconvincingly scoffed, “What? Me? I just met him.” Her face glowing.

The young boy laughed and concluded, “So you do like him.”

“Well, he isn’t not handsome,” She conceded with the boy letting the truth out about her feelings just a little bit.

When they got home, Annalise hurried upstairs to get freshened up. Martha was just about to leave but decided to wait for her friend. Martha looked at her and asked, “Wanting to impress someone now?”

Annalise blushed and finished up freshening up. She turned to her friend and asked, “Are we going?”

Martha nodded and asked, “Can you pick up some drinks from the convenience store since we are so early?”

Annalise made a face but agreed to anyway. She walked to the convenience store. She wandered down the isles and grabbed a six-pack of the mini plastic bottled Coca Cola’s and grabbed two tall glass Coca Colas. She smiled as she walked back towards the train tracks where she was going to meet back up with Martha.

Then she heard voices. She squinted and snuck closer making sure they didn’t hear her. “Where are Bartosz and the others,” asked a boy’s voice. Annalise surmised it must have been Jonas’s. It was similar and very fluid like the way he spoke.

“Late.” Martha responded, “As always.” This made Annalise want to wring her neck, but the girl stayed silent to listen. “The thing with Bartosz…”

Jonas quickly interrupted sounding panicked, “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”

“But I want to,” Martha replied to him. She started to sound like she was holding back tears, “I wrote you a text while you were away. Not just one. But I never sent them. It all sounded wrong somehow. What happened between us last summer…I...” Martha trailed off.

Jonas spoke up once more, “It’s really okay.” It didn’t sound okay. They were silent again. Annalise was just about to reveal herself when Jonas started again, “Something up? They were both lightly laughing now. This really hurt Annalise for some reason.

“I think I’m having deja vu,” Martha explained, “The light, the forest. As if all of this has already happened before.”

Jonas looked around looking right past Annalise with no notice. He looked back towards Martha with a small chuckle and a shrug, “A glitch in the matrix.”

Martha asked confused, “What?”

“If the world is a simulation,” Jonas explained, “deja vu is a glitch in the matrix.”

“Or a message from the other side,” Martha retorted, “I read that somewhere.”

Annalise felt very awkward watching such an intimate moment. For some reason, her heart ached a bit hearing them talk so easily. Part of the girl honestly wanted to just leave and go home. Have nothing to do with any of this.

Then Mikkel and Magnus walked near her. The younger boy noticed the girl hiding from the other two. Mikkel smiled as he linked his arm with Annalise’s and made her walk up with him.

“Hey, what the hell,” Martha asked Magnus.

He quickly replied, “Parents’ meeting. Heide’s got a stomach bug. I’m stuck with him.”

“Hi, Jonas,” Mikkel pulled away from the girl, “Ultimate fist bump?” He held out his fist to the older boy.

Jonas smiled and gave the boy a quick fist bump.

Annalise looked to Martha and Magnus then offered, “I can go home and stay with him if you want me to.”

Martha shook her head and looked towards her brother who responded with, “You take him back.” Magnus looked straight at Martha.

“Relax guys,” Mikkel interrupted, “I’m not a baby anymore.”

Bartosz, then, jogged up. “What is the idiot doing here,” he asked swatting Mikkel behind the head.

“Hey,” Annalise pulled Mikkel more towards her.

“Yeah,” Magnus agreed, “Only I can do that, okay?” Then he swatted his little brother behind his head. Annalise made a face as Mikkel complained that it hurt. She pulled the boy closer to her and gave him a plastic bottle coke while covering one finger over her lips. Magnus flipped his flashlight in his hand and held the light up to his face before saying, “Let us go.”

Mikkel looked up at Annalise as everyone started to follow Magnus, “Thank Lise.”

“It’s no problem Mikkel,” She grabbed a glass one out of the bag for herself. She opened it and turned to Jonas, “Do you want one?”

Jonas smiled gently, “Yeah. Thanks.” He took the other glass bottle from her and held it towards her so that she could open it.

Finally hearing the noise of a Coca Cola being opened, Bartosz turned around, “Oh nice! Thanks Anna.” He grabbed the bag from her hoping to find more of the glass bottles then turned towards her, “Did you only get two of those?”

Annalise smiled coyly at the boy, “It’s not like I was paid to get everyone a glass one. First come, first serve.” She clinked her bottle with Jonas then took a sip just to spite the boy.

Bartosz rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” He turned back around to continue walking with his arm around Martha howling at the moon with the others.

Jonas looked at the two wistfully and Annalise bumped his shoulder, “Come on.” She coaxed him into walking with her as a pair in the back.

It wasn’t too long once they entered the woods that the group started to walk more in a line across. Mikkel was the first to speak up again, “What do you guys think happened to Erik?” He walked with his older brother then continued, “Kids in our class are saying someone kidnapped him and has him locked up in a basement.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, “Oh shut up. He just ran away.”

Martha used this opportunity to look at Jonas once more. 

“But it could be that he’s locked up somewhere and can’t get out,” Mikkel explained his side. “Why would someone do that? Lock someone else up?” the boy asked.

“It’s like the witch in Hansel and Gretel,” Bartosz tried to joke, “When she gets hungry, she has something to eat.”

Martha held back a laugh and hit her boyfriend much to the displeasure of Mikkel. She shook her head then replied, “No, Even if Mom and Dad tell you that most people are nice, there are people out there who are anything but nice.”

Magnus and Annalise both spoke up.

“Like your sister,” the oldest boy said.

“Like Bartosz,” the girl had said at the same time as the boy.

They turned towards each other and laughed as Martha complained, “You idiots.”

Jonas then spoke up, “My father said good and evil are a question of perspective.” He looked around seeing everyone suddenly quieter and a bit awkward. He joked, “Dead father, bad topic?”

Mikkel spoke up once more to get the topic back on track, “And if Erik is no longer alive? If he’s lying dead somewhere and no one finds him? That would be the worst. Even if you’re dead, you want to be found.”

“No one is dead and no one won’t be found, okay,” Martha angrily said clearly tired of the conversation, “Can we please change the topic now?”

Bartosz smiled deviously and said, “Annalise has been awfully quiet during this exchange. Why not we pick on her for a little bit?”

Annalise rolled her eyes, “You’re only mad that you didn’t get a glass bottle. Here, if you want it so badly take mine.” She held it out to the boy who quickly took it and returned the back of plastic mini bottles to her. 

“Thank you,” Bartosz teased getting hit again by Martha, “Ouch. What?”

Jonas looked towards Annalise and held out his bottle, “I didn’t drink too much of it if you still want some from the bottle. I saw that you only took like one sip of yours.”

Annalise smiled and joked, “Thanks, I’d much prefer to share an indirect kiss with anyone else.” She was just about to press the bottle to her lips before she realized what she had said then paused. She tried to hand it back to Jonas.

Jonas, trying to ignore his own blush, said, “No. It’s okay.” He smiled, “It’s just funny that you would say that.”

Annalise took a quick sip before handing the bottle back to Jonas, “Why? Is it weird I don’t want to kiss my best friend’s boyfriend?”

Jonas laughed, “No. I think it’s just funny that it was your first thought. It makes me think you’ve thought about it before.”

“Ew,” Annalise shook her head, “That’s Bartosz you’re talking about. That’s disgusting.” She blushed and mumbled, “maybe someone else but not Bartosz really.”

Jonas chuckled and drank some of his drink himself. 

“I’m bored, can we go home,” Mikkel complained as they passed the nuclear power plant.

“We are almost there,” Bartosz explained.

Jonas stood in front of the gates and stared. Strangely enough, he felt as if all of this had happened before as well. He was lost in this thought when he felt a small gentle pressure next to him and a girl’s voice call to him.

“Jonas,” Annalise tried to snap the boy out of his trance. “The others are leaving us.”

Jonas stared back at the plant then nodded following her once more.

It wasn’t long before the group finally made it to the caves. Bartosz called for everyone to split up to look for the drugs. He, himself, went to the chair it was normally in and looked. 

Magnus called to him, “And?”

“Fuck, dude,” Bartosz replied, “It was here.”

A girl’s voice called over to the group, “Looking for this?” Everyone turned to see that it was Franziska holding the drugs and what looked like a burner cell.

“What is she doing here,” Martha complained.

“That’s mine,” Bartosz told Franziska.

Franziska sneered, “The definition of ownership says, ‘the possession is nine-tenths of the law,’ so it’s mine for now. But I’m selling. What’ll you give me for it?”

Bartosz pretended to think for a moment before moving to push her, “A kick in the ass.”

“What’s in here is easily worth 500,” she said pulling the drugs away from him, “It’s yours for 200. Daddy’s got plenty of money.” She tormented him.

Bartosz pushed the redhead and said, “Stop the bullshit.” He growled, “Just give it to me.”

Magnus shifted trying to hold back his anger at his sister’s boyfriend as Bartosz took the drugs away from Franziska.

As Bartosz walked away, he sang songed, “Jackpot.”

Franziska was just on her way closer to the group when there was a loud noise that came from within the cave. It sounded as if a door had opened inside of it. “What’s that,” Magnus asked terror unhidden from his voice.

There was a noise that sounded not too far from the group that made all of them turn to look. Martha spoke up, “Someone’s there.”

“Oh, shit!” the oldest boy whispered.

The noises continued making everyone turn. Then everyone’s flashlights started to flicker while looking towards the cave.

Everyone started to panic. It wasn’t long before Magnus yelled for everyone to run and go.

The rest of the group turn and ran leaving Mikkel and Jonas behind. Jonas quickly grabbed Mikkel’s hand and told the boy, “Come on.” He ran with Mikkel through the woods. Jonas tried to keep the boy ahead of him as he kept turning back to see if anyone was chasing them.

Annalise looked around realizing that Jonas and Mikkel weren’t with them and turned back quickly.

Jonas tripped in the woods. He tried to stumble and crawl his way back up. He turned and tried to call out, “Mikkel?” He yelled out, “Mikkel!” When he turned again, the boy saw his dad covered in black liquid. Jonas started to panic even more. He fell again before he was fully able to run away from the terrifying fright.

Annalise heard Jonas’s call and ran towards it, “Jonas?” She called. She started to hear footsteps as if they were running towards her. “Jonas?!” She called afraid.

Jonas soon revealed that it was him and grabbed her, “Lise, come on!” His iron grip pulled her with him as they ran out of the forest. He never let go of her wrist.

“Where’s Mikkel,” she called to Jonas over the falling rain that had started to drench them. When he didn’t answer her she called to him, “Jonas, where’s Mikkel?!”

He asked, “Is he not with the rest of the group?” He stopped only for a split second to ask her. His chest heaving from running so much.

“I don’t know, I came looking for y’all,” She yelled over the rain. Thankfully the rain hid her tears from him.

Jonas shook his head and started to pull her towards the exit again, “He must be with the others.”

When the rest of the group got to the bridge, Bartosz hit Magnus’s chest, “What the fuck, man! What was that?”

Magnus yelled, “No idea. Shit!” He looked towards Franziska and Martha that had finally caught up to them.

“Man, what was that,” Martha yelled as the other girl thrashed around as if looking for something or someone.

Magnus finally had a moment of clarity and yelled, “Where’s Jonas, Lise, and Mikkel?!”

Right on time, Jonas emerged from the forest dragging Annalise behind him. He sprinted to get to the rest of the group causing Annalise to trip. He stopped to help her up only to run back to them.

“Where’s Mikkel,” Magnus asked the two. Jonas and Annalise tried to take a moment to breathe. When they didn’t respond Magnus yelled, “Where is Mikkel?”

Annalise started to sob. Jonas replied, “Why isn’t he with you?!”

Martha yelled back at Jonas, “He was with you!”

“Shit,” Magnus yelled before running and calling for his brother in vain, “Mikkel! Mikkel!”

Everyone else ran after him. Annalise stopped and pulled out her phone. She quickly called the police and said, “H-h-hello. I think my brother has gone missing in the Winden woods. We’ve been calling for him, but he won’t respond.”

The police then instructed her to gather everyone else so that way they could stay together and accounted for. They then asked who was with her. Annalise started to give everyone’s names and the police then notified the parents.

All the teenagers split up into groups so that way the adults had an easier time finding who was who’s.

Ulrich ran to his son and daughter who had started to make their way towards their father. Charlotte and Regina comforted their respective children. Annalise stood behind Jonas still sobbing and shaking as Hannah ran to her son and held him. Jonas turned back towards Annalise and extended his hand to lace his fingers with hers. He pulled her close to him as she tried to calm herself. Hannah instinctively grabbed onto Annalise to pull her into the hug as well.

Ulrich, when Katharina finally arrived, ran his way through the woods calling for his son.

The next morning, everyone was just in shock. Annalise turned to look at Jonas. Hannah had let her stay with them that night to let the Nielsens’ have some family time alone. Lise had end up sneaking in with Jonas after asking if it was alright because neither one of them could really sleep. They just lay there breathing next to each other staring up at the ceiling not knowing what to say or do.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.11

Persona

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 3400

Summary: Arrival to NYC is not what neither the Winchesters nor you expected. Like… not even in your wildest dreams.

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood and death, amnesia, swearing... that’s enough, I think, oh and confused Moose and Squirell (it’s a... reference)

Story masterlist

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Natasha slept like a baby – or like a dead. Sam didn’t find either of those options comforting. He couldn’t say he wasn’t glad Rowena had assisted them – but he would also be lying if he claimed to be happy about their particular ‘ally’ on this case.

While Dean’s eyes were glued to the road, Sam’s kept flickering between Natasha’s torso, always making sure she was still breathing, and his tablet, where he had started a search. Manhattan was surely a smaller place than the whole world, but it still had over million and half residents and finding Natasha’s soulmate wouldn’t be easy in the slightest.

He was still searching police databases for missing person cases and for house fires and gas explosions. The only problem was, he had no time frame to search – with Dean, it took three months for him to be resurrected and while his particular case had rather different circumstances (with angels having to fight their way through literal Hell and the whole Righteous Man versus apocalypse thing), Sam had no clue when exactly Natasha died.

It could have been the same day Castiel had brought her to them as well as months ago, years even. It wasn’t helping they still didn’t have her name and didn’t know the circumstances.

In other words, they didn’t have jack squat. Then again, Natasha believed her soulmate was a man, probably around her age – that would narrow down the search then. If they failed, they could always try to create her a tinder account and see who would super-like her.

Sam huffed in irritation and amusement, happy that Dean was pulling over. His legs might have been dying for the past few minutes.

“Where are we?” he hummed, cracking his neck.

Dean tuned down the volume before answering – and really, if the loud music hadn’t woken up Natasha, something must have been seriously wrong, Rowena’s magic messing her up on a level eleven on a ten points scale.

“Harrison, New Jersey. About an hour drive to Manhattan. Figured we would be no good in the overpriced hotels in the city, especially with her like this. Plus, I’m hungry,” Dean replied honestly and Sam raised one corner of his lips in a half-grin.

“Fair enough.” Dean opened the door, climbing up. Sam looked around, confused, not seeing any hotel, only a diner, and it got him get out of the car with an exasperated whisper-yell. “Where do you think you’re going? We can’t just leave her here!”

“Oh, we don’t. You’re staying, I’m getting food,” Dean grinned at him cockily, earning Sam’s famous ‘I’m-so-done-with-you-jerk’ face. “I might get you something too, Sammy.”

“Get something to Natasha too, in case she wakes up any time soon,” Sam growled, but obediently folded his long legs back to the car, casting a glance over his shoulder at their last passenger. “Jerk, isn’t he?”

Naturally, Natasha didn’t even stir, let alone reply.

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She didn’t regain consciousness until late night. When she did, she seemed to be convinced this was what hangover felt like – neither of the brothers opposed her. She ate two good portions of dinner, drank a litre of water and passed out again, absolutely exhausted.

“I don’t even wanna know what she would have looked like if Rowena drained her as much as she wanted to,” Dean noted darkly and Sam silently agreed, ready to hit the hay too.  

“You think she’s safe to be left on her own?”

“You mean if she dies in her sleep? I wouldn’t worry about that now,” Dean shrugged light-heartedly, patting her calf that slipped out from between the covers. She didn’t seem to mind – or notice for that matter. “We might leave the bathroom light on so she wouldn’t crash into something when waking up groggy like before, but I think she’s good now. Get some sleep.”

Sam casted a glance at Natasha’s peaceful face, watching her form moving ever so slightly as her chest was rising and falling regularly. He sighed and made his way to the bathroom, humming in vague agreement. He was still going to set an alarm for every two hours to check up on her.

Funnily enough, Dean’s phone woke him up sooner as they had got the same idea. Sam snorted in amusement as Dean seemed ashamed for being caught caring for their protégé.

The next time Sam woke up, it was only due to his alarm at four a.m. About an hour later, he was snapped from his dreams by Natasha’s loud cursing as her shin met the nightstand; they had forgotten to leave the light in the bathroom on.

Well. At least she was alive and clearly alright enough to walk and talk.

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“So… what happens now?” Natasha asked the burning question as she finished her croissant and fruit.

Sam had been the one to go grocery shopping this time, adding apples to the cart. Dean had been mockingly disgusted, but Natasha seemed ecstatic, discovering she liked red apples better then green ones. It was adorable and Sam felt an uncomfortable pang near his heart when he realized what a little thing like this meant to her, an amnesiac.

He truly wished he had better news for her in a form of some masterplan. The true was they weren’t sure about their next step.

“Now we go to explore the island of Manhattan,” Dean shrugged, causing Natasha to tilt her head and squint.

“Okay…? How is that going to help?”

Dean made a face. “You women are so hard to please sometimes…”

Sam snorted, but quickly fixed his expression when Natasha’s eyes fell on him. He smiled at her tightly with a bit of guilt.

“We’re not sure how to proceed to be honest. Police station is an option, but I searched their databases – they probably won’t have any more luck than I did.”

“Oh,” she said only, her voice sad, her hopeful expression falling. “Can’t you like… eh, post my face on the internet or something? Could that help?”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, the one ridiculous idea popping up in his head again. He glanced at the woman, her eyes full of steadfast trust in them.

Sam cleared his throat, uneasy sensation in his stomach.

“Well… I actually thought of creating you a Tinder account-“

“Dude!” Dean cried out, exasperated. “You don’t mean that!”

“I’m sorry, you have a better idea?” Sam demanded, irritated as he spun on his chair to face his brother.

Sam was aware it was a lame-ass plan, but there were kind of out of options.

“…what’s a Tinder?” Natasha asked cautiously and Dean answered her swiftly with the ominous words.

“It’s a fuck-app.”

“I’m sorry?”

Sam beat his brother to speaking this time. “It’s a form of a dating site – or better, a dating app for your phone. You create a profile and-“

“So it’s a dating side. Basically. What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s known for finding a quick lay,” Sam explained bluntly, making her eyes widen, blood rushing into her cheeks.

“Oh.”

Dean gestured towards her wildly as if wanting to scream ‘see?!’ when a mixture of emotions played on her face. Sam rolled his eyes and huffed.

Natasha, seeing their exchange, worried her teeth over her lower lip.

“Well… how about we have a trip to the city and if we don’t come up with anything better, we give this a go?” she offered, causing both brothers to look at her as if she had grown a second head. Frankly, Sam was pleased too, though.

“Seriously?” Dean questioned in disbelief.

“We don’t have a better plan, do we? Desperate times. Besides… I have two bodyguards if someone lures me out under false pretences, don’t I?” she asked innocently, an honest smile lighting up her face, her unshakable trust in them showing again.

It made Sam’s stomach flip and his heart melt like hot butter. His lips spread in a smile as well unwittingly and he exchanged a look with Dean, who shrugged.

“You got balls. Let’s go then.”

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It took them an hour to get to the city and find a spot and neither of them had a better plan. Which meant they wandered the streets – earning strange looks for some reason –, postponing the inevitable until they found a small homey café.

Sam gulped. “Well, looks like this is it. We’re gonna dive into the Tinder jungle…”

Dean scoffed as he entered the café, looking around for a free table in the friendly space. It was clear that this wasn’t a franchise type of thing and Sam couldn’t tell he minded.

What he did mind were several pairs of eyes falling on them – and few of them growing wide, having their owners nudge their mates and whisper.

The taller hunter glanced at his companions who seemed equally uncomfortable under the glares. Good, Sam wasn’t getting paranoid then.

The moment only lasted few second though, then an orange-haired barista making rounds approached them with a smile, pointing them towards the counter, breaking the spell.

“Welcome to MDDC. Order at the counter, please. Oh and I recommend our caramel latté. It’s known to be magical,” she winked at them and Sam winced, mentally pleading for no more magic.

Squinting at her nametag, he thanked her for the recommendation anyway.

“Thank you… Terri.”

She threw another wink over her shoulder as she spun on her heels and headed the same direction. Unlike some of the patrons she seemed unfazed by their presence as she should. Yet, Sam still caught some people watching them with interest and shuffled, uncomfortable in his own skin.

“Am I like… famous? Or are they staring at you?” Natasha whispered, cautiously walking to the line of customers.

“They are staring, aren’t they?” Sam agreed, his mind racing. Was it a good thing? What did it mean? Could Natasha be famous?

“Maybe they think we’re all in poly.”

“Dean,” Sam snapped instantly, not amused as much as his brother clearly was, judging by his smirk.

“What? They could,” Dean offered innocently, earning a curious glance from Natasha, followed by a shake of her head.

“I’m not even gonna ask.” Good choice. “Grab me the caramel latté, please? Maybe it won’t taste like coffee too much. I’m… ugh, I’m gonna…” she pointed towards the ladies room and Sam just nodded.

A quick scan of the room confirmed his suspicion – there were eyes following her. Whatever this was, it was about her, not them.

Good news: no one was about to call the police, recognizing them as criminals. Good news no.2: finding information about Natasha might not be as hard as they had thought. Might.

“So, what are we thinking?”

Dean joined him in the line, losing his carefree attitude. “I think it’s worth asking. This ain’t coincidence. I just don’t get it – if she is famous, how did you not find a match?”

Sam grimaced, wondering about the same thing.

“Maybe it’s her family – or her soulmate. They could be annoyed with people, wanting to have their peace. How much it can cost to have someone cover the digital trail? Or maybe they sued someone and it resulted in that.”

“Or we could be wrong and they’re just looking at her ‘cause she an eye-candy,” Dean hummed, sounding perfectly serious. Sam hoped that the look he sent him spoke volumes. “What? She’s cute, we’re both thinking it.”

Sam rolled his eyes , but didn’t protest. “Let’s hope that it’s not the case, otherwise we’re about to sign her up for a ‘fuck-app’.”

This time it was Dean who glared mocked murder. Sam grinned.

“So, guys, what can I get you?” Terri asked them cheerily, genuine smile on her face. It somehow made Sam smile back automatically.

“Flat white, medium for me. Americano, no sugar for him. Tall? Yeah. And one of those caramel lattés,” Sam ordered.

“Here or to go?”

“Here. Add one of those… cheesecakes or whatever it’s called,” Dean requested. Before Sam could ask, he explained. “She liked trying new stuff. And Rowena said she should eat a lot.”

“That’s surprisingly thoughtful of you,” Sam blurted out, not watching his mouth. It earned them a giggle from their barista.

“Shut up, Samantha. You’re paying.”

Sam snorted as his brother aimed for a free table in the back and he pulled out the cash.

“He looks like a piece of work,” Terri commented lightly. Sam silently agreed. “I’ll bring your order to the table, okay?”

“Thanks.”

The boot in a quiet corner was a good choice, though Sam felt a little sorry for Natasha, who would have to walk through the whole café and face the strangely curious eyes.

“Here we go. Enjoy,” the barista landed their coffees and dessert.

“Thank you. Uhm… Terri? Can I ask you something?” Sam asked and straightened in his seat, which earned him a suspicious look from the woman.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“What a shame for the rest of us…” Dean sighed, shooting Sam an amused look when he noticed how flustered he grew.

“Huh? No, that wasn’t what I was-! I mean, not that you weren’t- uh, I mean-“ Sam stuttered, horrified she came to such conclusion.

It was when she giggled, her eyes sparkling. “I’m messing with you. What is it?”

Sam huffed, but couldn’t help but sigh in relief. He even charmed a little smile, trying not to look too self-important and showing he was okay with her teasing him.

“This might sound strange but… I think… people are kinda staring? At our friend? Do you have any idea why?”

“Well… if I could take a guess… it’s… it’s just that she looks so much like her,” she said slowly, glancing around. No one paid them any mind as they lowered their voices.

Jackpot. Sam’s eyebrows jumped and he leaned in, intrigued. With the corner of his eye, he registered Dean doing the same.

“Like who?”

“Cap’s girl,” Terri said simply, her expression darkening and softening at the same time. “God give him strength and let her rest in peace.”

Millions of questions popped up in Sam’s head, mostly whirling about what, who, why, when. A tragedy had struck, that was nothing new, they expected as much, but not an event of public manner.  

“Cap?” Sam questioned, confused. What kind of a nickname-

“Do you live under a rock?” Terri asked with a strange expression on her face. She seemed… surprised and weirded out, honestly. Sam couldn’t help but be offended at such blunt and mean question. “Sorry. Not much of a patriot then? Not from around here?”

“Wait, you mean Cap as… Captain America?” Dean whispered, sounding excited and Sam felt his heart skip a beat.

No way. Sam wasn’t very patriotic, never felt it, but even he knew who Captain America was and what role he had played in history – and present. But… she had to be shitting them, right?

“Well… yeah.”

Apparently not.

“Captain America? The Avenger?” Sam checked, making sure there was no confusion between them.

“Sure thing.” Terri shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“And she looks like his-…?“ Sam hinted her, trying to mask his impatience and excitement, probably failing epically.

“Soulmate, yeah.”

“That’s…” The younger hunter jerked his head, exchanging a meaningful look with Dean. “…interesting. Can we find her picture online? What’s her name? You know… celebrity look alike game and all that…? They do say my brother here looks like Bradley James.”

Oh yeah, Sam was totally making this up as he went. Dean was going to murder him for that comparison, but sacrifices needed to be made in the name of their rescue case. Terri tilted her head to side, examining Dean’s face, her smile growing wider.

“Huh. You kinda do,” she concluded and smirked. “I always was a sucker for Arthur and Merlin bromance.”

Sam snorted. They had watched an episode of Merlin. Dean had been horrified.

“I hate you. But yeah, do tell us.”

“Sure. But you can just check out the church on West 59th Street,” their barista confided them in – except neither of the brother understand what it meant. Dean was the one to ask.

“Why?”

“It’s the closest church to the Tower,” Terri announced, seemingly bewildered as she looked between the two of them. “How did you miss all this? It was all over the news.”

“We’ve been… travelling a lot.”

“Oh. Okay. You can just check it out. Light a candle for her. She died so a lot of others could live,” Terri explained them softly, clearly about to make her leave.

Sam had one last question though – well, among like million others.

Light a candle for her? What the hell?

“Thanks. Just… how long has it been?”

“Not too long. Few weeks.”

The moment their barista was out of hearing rage, Sam turned to Dean, whose shocked expression matched his own, and started whispering hastily.

“What the hell?!”

“Yeah, I’m right there with you. But it sounds legit. You check it out?“

Sam glanced around before pulling out his tablet. He liked this option better than the Tinder one, but an anxious knot was tying up his stomach as Natasha still didn’t find them at their table. She sure was taking her time. Sam hoped she was okay and wasn’t having a panic attack or something. And that there were no windows she could climb through – because if she was Captain freaking America’s soulmate, she might as well be a superhero just like him.

Seriously – what the hell.

The amount of results for ‘Captain America soulmate’ search was ridiculous, climbing to astronomic numbers. Links to articles, pictures, videos… and lots of the links had only the headline and nothing more to it – they had been deleted.

Sam wasn’t surprised anymore. Once again, if Natasha – which wasn’t her name at all, of course, as he found out – was the one for the supersoldier, there was no wonder someone would want to protect her privacy.

Sam roamed through the links, finally finding a photo – a photo of an altar, a picture of what clearly was a woman of Natasha’s hair colour, though blurred via filter, surrounded by teddy bears, flowers and candles.

The younger hunter gulped, satisfaction at possibly solving the mystery mixing with nervousness and compassion.

“Got something,” he hummed, passing the device to Dean.

“Well, that’s not creepy at all. Found any picture of her that actually shows her?”

Sam glared at his brother. “I’m trying,” he hissed, returning to his search.

He clicked on several videos – it was no surprise they had all been removed. He grunted in frustration, trying out what could be twentieth link, some no-name person Tumblr blog who had reposted it about three minutes ago.

Bingo!

The blurry picture moved a little, showing a blond man standing up from a bed in a plain room, crackling sound in the background. Sam froze the frame, attaching headphones and pressed play again.

The camera finally cleared and… the frame split in two. In the other frame, a woman strapped to a chair appeared, causing Sam’s heart stop along with his breathing.

Holy shit.

Holy.

Shit.

“Dean, you have to see this,” Sam choked out, a lump growing in his throat as he pushed the tablet to sit at the table between them and passed one headphone to his brother. Dean’s eyes went wide upon seeing the people in the video.

“Life is full of hard choices, isn’t it, Captain?” a scratchy male voice mocked the desperate man in the picture and Sam’s shoulders tensed when he realized just how hard choice the soldier was given; two bombs showed in the frame.

Well, shit.

“Steve?” Oh yeah. This was definitely Natasha’s voice. This was hundred percent Natasha. Who wasn’t Natasha, but whatever. “It’s… it’s okay. Go. Go save lives. I… I knew I’d have to share you with the world. Frankly, I didn’t imagine it would be like this, but— you go and be hero. My life is nothing compared to thousands and we both know that.”

“Is that really-“ Dean questioned incredulously, eyes glued to the screen.

“Yeah. I… I think it is.”

They spoke no more, watching the video as if it was the most suspenseful thriller they had even seen. Which it was, because the plot was very much real and they had the main character in the near bathroom. Risen from death.

Someone should probably check up on her, but Sam couldn’t tear his gaze away. It was like watching a train wreck to happen; they knew how it must have ended. Thousands of people Nat in the video had mentioned got to live; because Captain’s soulmate was about to blow up.

Both brothers still winced when the explosion did end the video.

Christ.

Dean slowly pulled out the earplug and gulped, glancing at Sam.

“Well… son of a bitch.”

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Part 12

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Thank you for reading!

(I’m sorry for that GIF use, I had to)

I hope it’s clear enough now that there’s a slight time shift between reader chapters and Steve/Nat/Sam/Bucky chapters (theirs are earlier, while reader had been resurrected a few weeks after her death, about after Steve’s drinking night.) 

 P.S. – I couldn’t resist that little cameo :D If you know who I mean the better, if not, don’t worry about it, Terri is one of my OFCs ;)