#I’d probably have owed him a coffee or something

[dawn-moths]

we’ve been watching pretty much all day and my brother guessed nanami as my fav with only his second guess lol

meanwhile he can’t decide whether yuji or todo are his favorite. i have a feeling he’ll be saying “my besto friendo” around the house for a few days after this haha. he also really liked megumi.

also we finished season one but he says he doesn’t want to watch season 2 until it’s all aired so i guess i’ll be starting my first watch and then watching it again once it’s finished 😅

we’re starting my rewatch/my brother’s first watch of jjk and i told him he gets 3 guesses of who my favorite character is by the end of the season.

he already likes yuji by the way lol

[okaylikeschaewon]

Hot-N-Fun - Part 1

~5k words, Roommates Series, smut

“Call it!”

“They never work,” you chuckled as you pulled your pants back up.

“Yeah but what if this time it’s real,” Mint pleaded while you washed your hands. “I’d do it if my phone wasn’t dead.”

“Seriously?” you began drying your hands. “It’s scratched into the side of the men’s bathroom. How could you possibly think it’s real?”

“You never know!”

“Call for a ‘hot-n-fun’ time? They didn’t even try. I think I can make a pretty safe guess,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “If anything, it’s probably just some dude messing with his friend.”

“You’re probably right,” Mint replied, staring at the scratching. “Either way, it could be funny.”

“Eh, you have a point,” you pulled out your phone and started dialing the number. “Fuck it.”

“That’s my man,” Mint smiled and jumped onto your shoulder, leaning next to your ear as your phone started ringing. “I owe you a drink for this.”

“It’s actually ringing, guess it’s a real number,” you commented, pleasantly surprised, with the phone against your ear. “I doubt they’ll actually pick-”

“Hello?”

It was a girl.

“Oh, hello,” you stammered after spending an awkward amount of time finding your voice.

“Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you answered, stifling your laugh as Mint stared at you in shock, his eyes threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

The girl on the phone sighed.

“Did you happen to find this number in a bathroom?”

“Yeah, I figured someone put your number here to mess with you but curiosity got the best of me,” you explained. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Are you a student?”

“I am.”

“Tomorrow, 9 a.m., coffee. The cafe down the street.”

Mint began frantically nodding his head at you, mouthing ‘yes’ over and over, almost jumping on you in excitement. You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of what was going on, but you made it this far, might as well see it out. At least, that was your excuse. In reality, you just found it incredibly hot that she told you instead of asked you.

“Sure,” you answered. “How will I know who you are?”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Could you do me a quick favor and please scratch out the number.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you replied.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mint staring at each other.

“Did that really just happen?” Mint broke the silence first.

“I’m still not convinced this is real,” you shook your head when suddenly your phone vibrated, the message leaving you in shock once again. “Holy shit, yeah this definitely isn’t real.”

“Let’s see,” Mint grabbed your phone and his jaw immediately hit the floor. “Yeah there’s no fucking way. They’re harvesting organs for sure.”

“I’m still going.”

“True, who needs two kidneys anyway,” Mint laughed, giving you back your phone.

“Fuck it, this girl can have both if she wants them.”

—

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kazuha hung up her phone and turned to her roommate.

“Oh my fucking God about time!” Chaewon squealed. “Where the heck is Sakura, I need to tell her.”

“I’m not actually doing this am I?” Kazuha whined as Chaewon frantically tapped her phone screen.

“She got a call! Tomorrow morning! Yes! I know!” Chaewon screamed into the phone. ���Okay! I’ll see you soon!”

“Chaewon!” Kazuha started hitting Chaewon’s arm. “I don’t want to!”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Chaewon grabbed Kazuha into a hug to stop her barrage of attacks. “I can’t wait to see him, what if he’s really hot?”

“I hope he is,” Kazuha sighed, falling face-first onto the bed.

“He will be, I can tell by his voice,” Chaewon jumped onto the bed with her. “So! What are you going to wear? Pick something that shows midriff, trust me.”

“I’m never making a bet with you two again.”

—

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” the girl looked up at you with a bit of a deer-in-headlights expression.

“I know, but it looks like you’ve been waiting. Therefore, I’m late,” you smiled warmly at her, gave her your name, and held out your hand.

“I’m Kazuha,” she shook your hand with firm but incredibly delicate fingers, holding on for a bit too long to be considered a ‘normal’ handshake. “Sorry, I would have waited before ordering, but I got kinda nervous.”

“No worries!” you sat down across from her. “I know it’s not exactly this simple, but don’t be nervous.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha laughed. “Just don’t be, right?”

“Is it working?” you asked while pulling your chair over so that you were sitting next to her instead of across from her.

“Umm,” Kazuha began blushing, her eyes frantically scanning you up and down as you moved right next to her. She ended up completely ignoring your question, biting her lower lip subconsciously as she picked up her mug and put it back down without even taking a sip. “Were you going to get a drink? I can come with you to the counter if-”

“No, I’m okay,” you gently placed your arm on the backrest of her chair.

Her eyes darted to your arm before going right back to you, that adorable deer-in-headlights expression returning with a vengeance.

“Here, we can share,” she picked up the mug and held it out for you to take, spilling a little on her own fingers in the process. “Oops!”

“Sure,” you ignored the error in an attempt to save her some embarrassment, and as you accepted the mug from her hand, you discreetly gave her a tissue. “Oh wow, it’s sweet.”

“Do you not like it?” she asked, looking up at you with an aura of innocent purity, as if your enjoyment of her coffee actually mattered.

“I love it,” you answered warmly, taking another sip. “What is it?”

With pure excitement, she started to explain her order, speaking too quickly to maintain any sort of semblance of coherency. The way she spoke about one pump this, one pump that, and not that a single word connected with you - in one ear out the other - was just too cute to handle. You were significantly more drawn to her appearance, focusing in particular on her expressiveness.

Her antics while she spoke were making you melt, you didn’t even bother hiding the smile on your face as you nodded along, pretending to care about whatever she was saying. She really was stunning, you could probably stare at her pretty face all day and never tire. Her beautiful wavy brown hair perfectly framing her cute features. The picture she sent definitely did not do her beauty justice. Have you mentioned that she was beautiful?

“Have you?” she waited expectantly for you to respond.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, still mostly lost in her beauty.

She cocked an eyebrow at you before she burst out laughing.

“You haven’t been listening, have you?”

“Alright, you caught me,” you chuckled. “I got lost in your eyes for a second.”

“Oh,” she blinked rapidly a couple times before looking down at the mug in her hands. “You shouldn’t just make up stuff like that,” she added softly.

“I’m not making it up,” you reached forward and very gently pressed up on her chin so that she was looking at you again. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” she stammered, trying desperately to look anywhere but into your eyes, before suddenly changing the topic. “So, what about you, tell me something. Why would you call a random number like that?”

“I can’t say it’s something I do often,” you chuckled. “Although, maybe I should.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because apparently it can lead me to a coffee date with a beautiful girl.”

“You’re not even drinking coffee,” Kazuha giggled as she took another sip. “Does this really count as a coffee date?”

“I thought you said we could share.”

“We can share if you can tell me what my order is,” Kazuha teased, knowing you weren’t listening.

“Easy, two pumps of hazelnut-”

“I hate hazelnut,” Kazuha interrupted you with another giggle.

“No you don’t.”

“Wow,” she smirked, pretending to be impressed. “Were you actually listening?”

“Nah, lucky guess,” you replied with a smirk of your own.

“You’re so dumb,” Kazuha laughed, hitting your arm playfully. “You should have just ran with it.”

“You’re the one who said not to make up stuff,” you replied defensively.

“I meant about compliments.”

“Then it’s a good thing I haven’t.”

She began blushing again, tapping the side of her mug nervously before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me honest on our next date.”

“Next date?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Confident, are we?”

“Should I not be?”

“Then where’s the next date,” Kazuha played along. “I chose this one, now it’s your turn.”

“Well, have you tried this thing called ‘dinner’ before? I heard it’s best with one other person at 7:00 p.m. tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?”

“What gave you that idea?” you leaned back in your chair, acting surprised for a brief moment before smiling at her. “I would have suggested a painting class or something, but it might be a bit too last minute to book something like that.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to settle for dinner tonight,” Kazuha smiled alluringly.

“I’ll call and make a reservation,” you smiled back. “Speaking of calling, want to explain that one to me?”

“I’m just going to be extremely transparent,” Kazuha put her mug down. “I lost a bet, the punishment was that I had to go on a date with the first person who called.”

“I figured it was something along those lines,” you chuckled softly. “Hopefully, I made it at least somewhat worth your time? Considering you already contractually agreed to go on another one with me, I’d say it’s going well.”

“Contractually agreed?” Kazuha laughed, tilting her head back. “Is that how this works?”

“Exactly,” you replied. “I took an intro to political sciences course in freshman year, I’d know.”

“And when was freshman year for you?”

“Last year,” you answered. “You?”

“Last year as well. How have we not taken any classes together if we’re both sophomores?”

“I assume we’re in different majors.”

“I’d bet that’s a safe assumption,” she giggled. “If you’re not in poli-sci, what are you in?”

“Wait, who said I’m not?”

“You obviously took the intro to political sciences course for fun,” Kazuha answered. “I’ve seen the poli-sci kids at this school, none of them are so…” she paused for a second while her eyes fixated on your forearms. “Toned.”

“Excuse me? You’re one to talk,” your eyes quickly darted down to the subtle midriff she was showing. “Having abs even while sitting means you’re also far too toned for whatever your major is.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. “What if I’m in something like kinesiology? They’re usually fit.”

“Fuck, beautiful and smart? That’s just not fair,” you mumbled, earning you another embarrassed giggle from Kazuha. “How long before I can hire you as my personal trainer?”

“I didn’t say I’m a kin major, I was just suggesting it.”

“Can I still hire you as my personal trainer?”

The conversation paused for a bit while Kazuha laughed, and in turn made you laugh with how contagious it was. She spoke next, after finally composing herself, in a much softer tone.

“To answer your question, I’ve actually been really enjoying this,” Kazuha smiled back before biting her lower lip again. “There’s a bit more to the punishment, though.”

“Oh?” you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m supposed to actually-” she paused to lean closer to you for a second before leaning back again. “Actually, nevermind.”

“Nah, you can’t tease me like that. What is it?” you implored.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated after her.

“Well, part of the punishment…” she trailed off again. “I can’t do it.”

“Hey, don’t stress it,” you leaned back. “We can talk about something else.”

“Fuck it,” she sighed, leaning forward. You moved closer until she was right against your ear. “I’m also supposed to blow you.”

“Wow,” you leaned back again and put your hands on your head. “That’s… a bit intense.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge!”

“I’m not judging.”

There was a long, silent pause, where numerous unholy thoughts flooded through your mind. Before you could even make any sense of anything though, Kazuha spoke up again.

“Yeah,” Kazuha was now starting to get really embarrassed. “Sorry, that was… I didn’t know how else… I don’t think I was supposed to actually tell you that part. This whole thing was probably super inappropriate, I’m sorry for bringing that part up, that was stupid. I feel like I just ruined this-”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off, placing your hand gently on top of hers to calm her down.

There was another pause in the conversation. During it, you simply admired Kazuha’s beautiful features some more while she absentmindedly stirred her coffee. She couldn’t find the courage to look up at you. She was clearly waiting for the conversation to continue, but she was too shy to be the one to speak next. You had to be the one to break the pause.

“I’m not going to make you do that.”

Her head snapped up and she looked at you with eyes filled to the brim with surprise. She really was quite beautiful - an aura of pureness surrounded her, almost making her glow in a way.

“I’m serious,” Kazuha announced with this intense, newfound conviction. “I’ll do it.”

“And I’m serious when I say I’m not going to make you do it,” you repeated firmly. “That’s an awful punishment, and there’s no way I’d force that upon you.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but I really have to do this. I can’t explain,” Kazuha sighed. 

“Then just tell them you did, I’ll back your story up if needed,” you replied casually.

“They’d know I’m lying,” Kazuha suddenly lowered her tone. “They’re actually watching this date right now.”

“Are they?”

“Please don’t look around,” Kazuha panicked. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part either.”

“I’m not stupid,” you laughed. “Look, how about the two of us sneak off to the bathroom for like five, actually ten, minutes. We can keep chatting or just stand there in silence, how’s that sound?”

“Would you actually do that for me?” Kazuha looked at you with that same shocked and pure expression that you were starting to fall in love with.

“Yeah of course, I’m going to look around as if you just offered to blow me,” you replied while standing up and over-exaggerating the motions of looking around the cafe before holding your hand for Kazuha to take. “Now we look suspicious as fuck, come on.”

Kazuha giggled at your foolishness before grabbing your hand and following you to the bathroom.

—

“Thank fuck it’s clean,” you laughed as you closed the door behind you. “Bit cramped for two people, but at least it smells nice.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Wait,” you leaned over her shoulder into her neck. “Oh, that nice smell is just you.”

“Stop,” Kazuha whined, stretching the word. The mirror showed her eyes rolling and her lips smiling. 

“Still haven’t lied by the way.”

“Well, thank you,” Kazuha awkwardly giggled as her backside lightly touched your crotch. “Oops!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Kazuha interrupted. “It’s a small bathroom. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Don’t need to thank me, this ended up being a fun adventure. I got to grab coffee with such a lovely girl.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Kazuha smiled at you in the mirror. “Do your dates usually end up like this?”

“If I had a nickel for every time I found myself in this situation, I’d have…” you pretended to count for dramatic effect. “Exactly one nickel!”

“You’re so silly,” Kazuha giggled, maneuvering around so that she was face to face with you. “Alright, I can’t lie, this is a tiny bit awkward.”

“Want me to face the door?” you laughed.

“No don’t,” Kazuha giggled, covering her mouth. “That would be so weird.”

“Well, I’m gonna ask for at least ten or fifteen minutes in here, I got a reputation to keep.”

“What about my reputation?”

“Good point,” you tapped your chin. “Are you known for being good?”

“Want to find out?”

“Kazuha,” it was your turn to feel warmth in your cheeks. “You might be one of, if not the, prettiest girls at this entire school. I really do want to take you on a date, I really do want to get to know you properly.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have made that joke,” Kazuha stuttered, avoiding your gaze.

“The joke was fine,” you leaned closer to her face. “I just really want to do this properly with you.”

“I do, too,” Kazuha looked into your eyes without pulling her face away, leaving her lips slightly parted.

Everything, other than the little frogs jumping around in your gut, slowed down. It was truly quite peculiar how the world worked. One moment you’re squeezed in a tiny bathroom fit for one, then one moment later it felt like it was taking hours to reach Kazuha’s lips. Were you even moving at this point? Surely by now you would have made contact. You shouldn’t have closed your eyes so early, but it just felt right. How much longer? Maybe you could open them back up, but would that ruin the moment? Then it hit you.

Strawberry.

Who even wears strawberry lip gloss? Is that a common flavor? Does she always wear strawberry? Why did it taste so good? Why did it feel so good? Have you been kissing her for too long now? Shit. Maybe you’re the one that shook her hand too long earlier, maybe it wasn’t her fault. No, that was definitely her not letting go. Speaking of letting go, are you supposed to stop kissing her now? When did your hands end up framing her face, cupping her cheeks? When did her hand end up on the back of your neck? Where’s the other one? Oh, it’s on your hip, when did it get there?

“Wow.”

“That-”

“Felt right,” Kazuha finished your thought.

“Yeah,” you agreed, suddenly noticing just how tangible the tension was between the two of you as you let go of her face and brought your hands to her hips. “Were your cheeks always this pink?”

“Are they?” Kazuha giggled, turning her face in embarrassment to try looking into the mirror.

“Don’t,” you gently turned her face with one finger until she was looking at you again. “You’re so pretty.”

“Th-Thank you,” she stuttered, physically fighting the urge to look away and hide herself.

“Can I-”

She didn’t even let the words finish leaving your lips before lunging forward and kissing you again. The force pushed your back into the door, leaving a small bruise where the doorknob hit your body that you wouldn’t even notice until later tonight. While strawberries attacked your taste buds again, you began pushing back, slowly moving forward until Kazuha’s soft body began squishing your hand into the porcelain sink.

“I think I could do this all day,” you gasped as both of you began panting for air. “But I think we’ve probably convinced your friends by now. Should we head back?”

“Wait, not yet,” Kazuha panted, licking her lips. “Can you help me get a picture?”

“A picture?”

“To prove that I… you know.”

“You mean, like, with my thing out?”

“In my mouth,” she began blushing. “Just for a second.”

“Umm.”

Was this real life? You weren’t sure anymore.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Kazuha stammered. “Forget it, dumb idea, they’ll just have to believe me.”

“I can,” you wrapped your arms around her and embraced her softly. “But are you comfortable doing this?”

“I am,” her voice was muffled by your shoulder.

She pulled back, smiling at you for a second before leaning forward for another kiss. This one was softer than the previous two, her lips barely brushed against yours, her tongue barely touched you.

“Ready?” you breathed into her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” Kazuha stared at you tenderly. “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s really no big deal,” you rubbed her arm gently before unbuckling your pants.

“Just umm, tell me when you’re… you know,” Kazuha stuttered as she turned away from you.

It was incredibly adorable the way she stood there, trying to avoid looking at you in the mirror. You lowered your pants down to your knees and began slowly stroking yourself. It definitely felt a little bit odd, but you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for her sake.

“Excuse me,” you reached your arm around her body and turned the sink on, wetting your fingers. “Let’s make it look even more believable.”

Kazuha furrowed her brows at you in the mirror, confused by what you meant.

“I assume the inside of your mouth isn’t completely dry?”

“Oh,” she finally understood what you were doing.

“Alright, I’m ready if you are.”

Kazuha turned around and kept her eyes on yours, seemingly physically incapable of looking down.

“You’re probably going to have to see my thing at some point if you want this picture,” you tried to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry, you have my permission.”

She giggled, the rosy tint returning to her cheeks in full force, before looking down at your wet cock. As soon as she looked down, her body froze again and she looked back up at you, bringing that deer-in-headlights look that you were growing so accustomed to now by now back.

“It’s big.”

“Hey, we don’t have to actually do this,” you said gently, moving her hair out of her face for her.

“No,” Kazuha replied softly before sitting down on the toilet cover. “Sorry, I just, I didn’t, yeah, I’m ready.”

Kazuha pulled out her phone and flipped her camera to selfie mode, holding it up to the side, looking for the proper angle. Once satisfied, she turned her head to you, nodded once before opening her mouth wide and staring at you.

This was your cue, and you took one step forward before gently placing your tip into her mouth. You inhaled sharply as her lips immediately tightened around your tip, her tongue resting against your hole. Despite your cock already being stiff, as soon as it entered her mouth you could feel the blood rushing into your cock, swelling it up.

Kazuha held her phone up and took a few selfies at various angles. It was wild, such a beautiful girl with your cock in her mouth in such an erotically casual way. She had her lips pouted, almost like she was kissing your tip. It didn’t really make much sense, but it was incredibly hot - she was incredibly hot. Before you knew it, Kazuha released your cock with a little pop and wiped her lips.

“Do you think you could like, push against the inside of my cheek,” Kazuha asked innocently before the realization of what she just said hit her and her face turned bright pink in embarrassment. “Sorry, that’s a crazy thing to say.”

“Of course I can,” you ignored her embarrassment and pushed your cock in front of her mouth again.

Almost reflexively, she parted her lips wide and let your cock slide back into her cozy mouth. Just as she asked, you pressed your cock against her inner cheek as she took more selfies. Your cock was exploring every crevice of her mouth, pressing and shoving against her cheek. You found, somehow, both of your hands on her head, guiding it while your cock roamed freely.

It seems that your ability to see things had completely vanished, since you failed to even notice that Kazuha had put her phone away. She was just sucking your cock; she was no longer snapping pictures. When you finally realized what was happening, you hurriedly released her head while attempting to ignore how wonderful her mouth felt.

The real shocker was that Kazuha continued to move her head back and forth along your shaft even after you released your grip. Her lips were caressing your length as she closed her eyes, totally engrossed in the moment. You were certain that her mouth was designed to suck your cock since it was now entirely her decision to blow you, and it was impossible to deny how fucking great her mouth felt.

“Kazuha,” you gently moaned, carefully pulling your hips back. “I think you got enough pictures.”

“Does it not feel good?”

Her voice felt like a dagger in your heart. She sounded disappointed.

“Hey,” you crouched down so that you were level with her and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, but I told you I wanted to do this properly. This feels… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“It feels forced,” Kazuha smiled understandingly at you. “I promise you it’s not, I know I don’t have to do this. I want to do this.”

“Kazuha-”

“Zuha. My friends call me Zuha.”

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “Zuha, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, standing up from the toilet and maneuvering you around before pushing you down to sit. “Now close your eyes, and let me prove to you that I’m good at this.”

Fuck that was hot. You obeyed her request, closing your eyes as those delicate fingers of hers gave your cock a couple of pumps. Not being able to watch truly was a tragedy, but you felt her tongue with details you never could have imagined possible as soon as she pressed it against your tip.

She slipped your cock into her mouth again, bringing back that gentle warmth, swirling her tongue around the tip a couple of times before she began using her lips to stroke you. Back and forth her lips went, your tip prodding her tongue each time she went down your shaft, while her hand firmly gripped the bottom half of your shaft. A soft moan escaped your lips, one that told Kazuha it was working - but she already knew that. The girl definitely knew how to suck cock. Even without seeing that beautiful face of hers, you were already nearing your climax.

Somehow, she also felt it coming. Or, just by coincidence, she decided to start pumping your cock. Her hand and her mouth worked in tandem, stimulating your entire shaft. Up and down, a soft slurp echoing in the small bathroom each time her mouth moved. She slowed down for just a second, leaving you spewing agonizing moans into her ears, before speeding back up.

“Zuha,” you groaned, squirming on the seat, lifting your hips up into the air. “I’m…”

That was all the warning she got, because that was all the warning you could muster. Whether or not she was ready, the next thirty seconds of her life were going to be taken over by your cum shooting into her mouth. Your eyes shot open as the first gush launched against the roof of her mouth, just in time for you to see her visibly flinch.

She looked up at you, locking eyes, and held her mouth steady. Even as the next few spurts flew out of your cock, she never flinched again. You could see your cock throbbing, each pulse shooting more cum into her mouth, but she held steady, not even blinking, staring at you with those beautiful eyes.

With one hand, you pushed her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek tenderly, using your thumb to wipe the little glob of cum that spilled out of the corner of her lips. As your cock finally began to relax, Kazuha slowly pulled back. Inch by inch, she released your cock, making sure to keep her lips taut until they reached your tip.

She gathered all the cum in her mouth and struggled to take out her phone. When she finally got it, she snapped a selfie with your cum all on her tongue. Once she was content with the picture, she bent over and spit it all out, holding her hair to prevent it from going into the sink.

“Sorry, there was just too much,” she apologized, looking back up at you. “I swear I usually swallow.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled reassuringly at her.

Kazuha smiled back before she bent down over your cock again.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, shuddering as Kazuha gave your cock a lick from the base to the tip.

She pursed her lips around your tip, prodding your frenulum a couple times with her tongue, coaxing out a little glob of cum. Without even lifting her mouth, she swallowed it. After a few more licks, making sure you had no more cum to drain, she released your cock with a little pop.

“So,” she stood back up proudly. “You tell me, how was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you stood up in front of her and grabbed her face with both hands.

This next kiss went on for a few minutes, or perhaps longer. It would have been even longer if it wasn’t for the aggressive knock on the door.

“Hello? There’s only one bathroom here!”

Both of you began giggling while staring at each other.

“We’re fucked,” Kazuha whispered.

“It’s your fault,” you whispered back. “Fuck it though, we’re already screwed, might as well keep going.”

So you did just that, and the two of you kissed again until a staff member came by and berated the two of you, kicking you out of the cafe and telling you to never come back.

“Worth it,” you laughed as the two of you walked out into the warm morning afternoon.

“Worth it,” she repeated, clutching your arm with both of hers and smiling. “I can’t believe it’s almost noon already. Lunch?”

“That sounds perfect.”

---

A/N:

Inspired by a prompt given to me by @mintwithchoco!

So, turns out Roommates is becoming a whole universe. I'll explain more in my Masterlist at some point, but my goal is to write a collection of fics from this universe that are all following the same OC. They're going to be readable completely independently of each other, but there will be a lot of references and foreshadowing since I've actually already plotted out like 10 fics, so if an idol is mentioned in a fic, they're probably getting their own fic at some point.

This particular one will probably be split into two parts, just so I can avoid making it too long. Hope you guys enjoy this one, I've been on a crazy Kazuha high lately and just had to write her.

Feel free to let me know what you think about this idea. I won't be releasing fics in chronological order either. This takes place in the OC's sophomore year while the Eunbi fic took place in the OC's senior year. I'm pretty committed to this now with how much worldbuilding and theorizing I've put into this, but I still love hearing feedback!

[amongemeraldclouds]

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

[xothatnerdykid]

what would you do? (baby, if you only knew)

When mysterious pro hero Eraserhead saves you one night, you insist on buying him a cup of coffee to say thank you. Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader drabble. Cute and fluffy but very suggestive towards the end (still SFW tho). 2,409 words.

"It's not safe to be out at night all alone, sweetheart," the man with the wolfish smile moves closer to leer at you.

Ignoring him, you wrap your coat tighter around you and walk faster. 

As your bad luck would have it, this only riles him up further and he chases after you. "Let me walk you home, pretty little thing. Can't have you getting into trouble now, can we?"

"The only one getting into trouble…" Your voice quivers, but there’s a determination underneath your fear as you turn to face the stranger, “Is you!”

You spray your mace in his eyes but he’s faster than you, and stronger too. He wrestles it out of your hand and grabs your wrist, twisting it behind you. 

Before you can even think to scream, the man’s already on the ground.

A figure in dark clothing emerges from the nearby shadows. He had your would-be attacker tied up in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t you know,” he said low and menacingly — too menacingly for a hero, you think — bending down to grab the man’s wrist the way he did yours. “That’s no way to treat a lady?” 

He twists it until the man screams out in agony. “Gaaah! Alright, alright, already! Just let me go!”

“Not until you apologize.”

He looks up at you with frantic, pleading eyes, “I’m sorry. Now will you please tell this psycho to let me go?”

He loosens his grip on the man’s arm with a shove. “The police are already on their way to pick you up, so don’t even think about trying anything.” 

The perpetrator grunts but bows his head in defeat. 

“Are you alright?” The man finally turns to look at you, the harsh edges of his voice softening just a little when he asks you. 

You take a good look at him and realize he’s almost intimidatingly taller than you. With a lean frame clad in all black and a grey scarf, his eyes are dark and piercing in spite of their obvious weariness. He has a scar on his face and long, messy dark hair. 

But in spite of all these things, there’s a kindness to his expression and in the way he almost reaches out to touch you.

You nod. “Yes. Better, now. Thanks to you.”

He drops his hand and stuffs them into his pocket. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before he clears his throat, “Do you need an escort home?”

You don’t, really. It was only a block away from here and much better lit and safer than this shortcut you recklessly took, but you say yes anyway. “I’d appreciate that.”

Without another word, he falls into step beside you as you start walking. It’s not long before you’re at your apartment building door.

You want to say thank you, but — “I don’t even know your name.”

He shrugs. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to thank you properly,” you insist.

He eyes for a moment before hesitantly reaching out his hand. “Aizawa Shouta.”

Oh.

You weren’t expecting him to give you his real name.

He mistakes your surprise for hesitation and almost pulls his hand back before you realize your mistake, hurriedly shaking it.

“Thank you, Aizawa-san. I owe you for saving me tonight. What can I do to repay you?”

He shakes his head. “That’s not necessary.”

“Please, I insist. Do you drink coffee? Or like cats?”

He scrunches his eyebrows at you. “Cats?”

“Yeah, I work at this cat cafe not too far from here. Stop by anytime this week and I’ll have a free coffee waiting for you,” you offer hesitantly. 

“Hmm,” he rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Maybe if I pass by it on my patrol, sure.” 

But his noncommittal answer makes you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t tell me I have to get myself into trouble to see you again?” You half-joke.

He doesn’t laugh. 

But there's the faintest glimpse of something akin to amusement in his eyes that you convince yourself you’re probably not imagining, so you take that as a small win.

"Your choice," You shrug and unlock the door to your apartment building.  Turning to face him one last time before heading inside, you smirk.

"See you around, Shouta."

He clears his throat but says nothing more. You leave him standing in the dimly lit street outside your apartment, but he doesn’t leave your mind for days.

_________________________________________________________________________

"So is the coffee here any good?"

You look up to the surprising sight of the man who saved you a few days ago standing in front of the counter. “Shouta!” You exclaim, and a genuine smile lights up your face. “Glad you could make it. This shift was starting to get the better of me.”

He rubs the back of his neck and you notice he has his hair up this time, the scarf gone. You can't help but stare at his hands and the exposed skin of his neck as he looks around the cozy cafe and all the playful felines. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you offer, "Do you want to pet a cat? Or just a coffee?" Hopefully not to go, you think to yourself.

“You know I’m too old for you, right?” He asks instead, and you feel your face heat up. 

"I don't think so," you shoot back. And despite how flustered you feel, you look him right in the eye.

He does the last thing you expect him to: he leans against the counter and chuckles. "Relax, I was only teasing."

Filled with newfound confidence, you smirk and look up at him from underneath your eyelashes. "I wasn't."

There’s a moment of charged silence where he looks like he might be on the brink of smiling again, the corner of his lip twitching. But he clears his throat instead and his expression turns stony and blank again. "So, about the coffee..."

_________________________________________________________________________

You tell him it'll be ready in 5 minutes, and he takes a seat in the back corner, playing with some of the cats and kittens. For someone who seems so stern and serious all the time, he's surprisingly gentle with them. You think it adds another layer of intrigue to him. 

As you bring his coffee over, you notice him engrossed in rubbing a little orange tabby cat dozing off on his lap. And you know you're not imagining the smile on his lips this time.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" You can't help but poke fun at him as you set his cup down on the table. "Is this what heroes do in their spare time?"

He snorts. "What free time?"

"Oh?" You sit down across from him even though you know you're not supposed to (for reasons other than getting in trouble with your manager). 

You cross your legs and brush your foot lightly against his ankle. And although he doesn't comment on it or react, he doesn't move away either. 

“I’m flattered then, that you somehow managed to find the time to drop by.”

He shrugs, then takes a sip of his coffee. "You should've made one for yourself so you could keep me company.”

"I thought you said I was too young for you?"

"No, I said I was too old for you.”

You quirk your eyebrow in return. "And I said not to me."

And though you're just being your usual playful self, you can sense the subtle shift in the atmosphere as the moment lingers, his gaze intense and scrutinizing. You find yourself falling deep into the darkness of his velvety, ebony eyes.

His little laugh breaks the spell, the sound deep and genuine.

"You're relentless, I'll give you that," He shakes his head, one corner of his mouth tipping up.

"And you're stubborn." You take the drink he offers you and make sure to keep your eyes fixed on him as you sip it. "What's it gonna take for you to listen?”

He quirks his eyebrow at you, and you don’t miss the way his fingers brush against yours when he takes back his coffee cup.

“I’m listening…”

_________________________________________________________________________

Shouta comes back to the cafe a couple of times after that, and it’s always the same: You make sure you don’t take your break until he arrives so you can happily spend all of it and more chatting with him in his favorite corner near the cat tower. 

Each visit is a bright spot in your day, and you allow yourself the small hope that it is for him, too. The conversations flow naturally, a mix of light-hearted banter and personal stories. Aizawa opens up about his work, his passion for teaching, and his love for cats. In turn, you share your dreams, your aspirations, and your random nonsensical thoughts with him.

And just like every other time, you have to force yourself to get up, sighing. "Okay, everyone's giving me the look again. My break ended about 15 minutes ago."

He holds his hand up to gesture that it's no big deal and gets up too. "Thank you for the coffee and the company. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“No, no trouble at all. You know, you don’t have to leave just because I have to go back to work.”

“I can’t. Duty calls.” He rubs the chin of the little tabby cat on his arm and she purrs contentedly. “But I’ll come back. This one seems to have taken a liking to me.”

“She wouldn’t be the only one.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way your flirty comment leaves him a little flustered. He looked devastatingly handsome to you, frowning and turning away to hide his blush.

Clearing his throat, he sets the kitten down gently on the floor with the others. 

As he turns to leave, you impulsively reach out to grab his wrist.

He looks at you, surprised, and you give him a playful smile.

"Hey, one more thing before you go?"

Leaning closer, you press your lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

He freezes for a moment, uncharacteristically caught off guard again (you seemed to have a habit of doing that to him). But it’s not long before he relaxes into the kiss, his lips moving against yours with an unexpected tenderness.

When you pull away, you search his face for any indication of his feelings and there’s a spark of something…soft and almost shy in his gaze.

“I’ll be looking forward to that coffee,” he says with his eyes half-lidded and his breath ghosting across your cheek.

"I'll be here," you smile, face flushed and heart racing. 

_________________________________________________________________________

“You’re not wearing your uniform,” Shouta remarks when he sees you again. 

And it’s such an unexpected thing for him to say when you have him pressed up against the wall of the tiny, dimly lit supply closet by the back of the cafe where you were just making out, that you have to laugh.

“I could say the same for you.” You grab him by the collar of his shirt and kiss him again, deeply, searingly. You love how erratic his breathing and his eyes get, the way his swollen lips feel against yours. 

“I’m not working today,” He murmurs, breath mingling with yours.

“Neither am I.”

“Oh?” He pulls aways for a moment. “Then why are you here?”

You smirk, “Didn’t wanna miss my favorite customer in case he came in.”

His face immediately softens, and you revel at the warmth of his thumb lightly tracing the outline of your lips. “Is that so?”

“Yes. By the way, have you seen him yet?”

It’s his turn to laugh now. 

His deep, raspy voice softens to a low, resonant rumble that fills the room, and the sound is so light-hearted — vibrant and alive — that you can’t help the warmth that floods you at the thought of being the one to bring it out of him.

“No, but I’ll be sure to tell you when I do.” He brushes a lock of hair from your forehead and places a soft, lingering kiss there. “In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind slumming it with me.”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think about it for a moment. “I suppose…I could be persuaded…”

You trail your fingers playfully up his shirt and then cup his chin.

“But you’ll have to work hard to convince me.”

His hands wander down your back and stop to rest on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me,” He murmurs in a voice so low and husky it makes your toes curl, “to show you just how persuasive I can be?”

You nod eagerly, and he smirks as he hoists you up and turns you around so that you’re the one pinned up against the wall now. He cradles the back of your head and leans down to capture your lips in another electrifying kiss.

You feel so lost in the sensations of his intoxicating taste, his hungry kiss, his hands roaming your body that you hardly notice yourself instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

He does, however, and feeling your grip on him suddenly tighten, hearing your small exclamations of pleasure — it’s enough to leave him just a little dazed and heady with desire.

You pull back for a moment to catch your breath, but he's not having it, quickly closing the distance between you again. He needs this. He loves it too much to stop. 

You feel yourself smile against his lips and push him away gently. “Shouta,” you laugh breathlessly. “Give a girl a minute.”

He chuckles darkly, his playful demeanor from moments ago subtly turning into something more intense. “You know, y/n,” His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in again, his lips trailing a searing path along your jawline and down your neck. “I pride myself on being a gentleman…”

You don’t — can’t — respond, each touch sending a jolt of desire through you. You can hardly contain the soft gasps that escape your lips.

“So I hope you don’t feel offended by me asking this,” you feel his hot breath against your chest, up your neck. When he looks into your eyes, his gaze is smoldering. His dark and clouded eyes flicker down your lips for a moment before he continues, “But would you like to come back to my apartment with me?”

You’ve never said yes to anything faster in your life.

[writin-with-the-blues]

can you please write more of the blu medic x red mercs but the rest of red team finds out?? Like the red merc walks into base and the rest of the team is like "um hey what the HELL you have a crush on a BLU!?!?!?" (If you can't do this scenario for all the mercs can you do it for pyro, engineer, and scout please) thank you!!! Sorry If this request is alot.

Oh absolutely I can do this! Sorry if updates have been slow, finals has been killing me and this seemed the easiest to post. (I feel like I am always writing Pyro wrong LMAO).

OG Post Here

Right person, Wrong side

Pyro, Engineer, and Scout x Male!Blue Medic! Reader (Romantic)

Pyro:

They are probably the most interesting when it comes to you.

They tried to talk about you to the rest of the Mercenaries actually. However, since most of them can’t here them, they brush it off as utter nonsense. Except for one particular person.

Miss Pauling.

It was over a phone call, since pyro was in their room, they didn’t feel the need to put on a mask. It had to do with a contract killing you in particular and they rejected it. Miss Pauling inquired further about it, she was simply told, “Oh they didn’t tell you? I love him.”

“You can fall in love?”

Okay, ow, that hurt. But that one conversation with Miss Pauling somehow got spread around the entirety of Red Team. Though, it isn’t really a case of, ‘They are in love with blue team’ but a case of, ‘They can love?!’

Overall, it went alright. Though it did show how people felt about their cognitive abilities.

Engineer:

Ah yes, Dell, the man with more PHD’s than fingers of the Mercs have after a fight. He got caught because of an invention.

I am a firm believer that Dell’s love languages are Gift Giving and Acts of Service. He adores the moments when you just look so happy and excited, so keeping the stressful moments to a minimum with his inventions or hell just giving you a cup of coffee is something he thinks about a little too much.

So when he finds out that your medigun isn’t working as well as it should be, he immediately gets to solutions for you. It wasn’t like you asked though, since you didn’t even know something was wrong with your medigun in the first place but the nozzle doesn’t have the same range as it used to.

Though, his teams medic assumed it was for him until the very quick realization that it did absolutely nothing for his medigun. Which immediately was brought with accusations of being a spy and betraying the team.

To tell you it was ugly would be an understatement. To the point where his only defense is that he loved you. So he just simply said that. Did it resolve his issues with spy accusations? Yes. But it created a whole new problem.

Now there’s a bit of pressure from the rest of the team to just, ‘Snap out of it’ but he doesn’t. As much as he lies through his teeth, and as much as he tries to ignore it, he can’t. I mean, he’s a full grown man dammit, who cares?

Scout:

If you were to ask me how he even gotten himself in this situation, I’d say the many doodles he has of you.

He has a somewhat (very) crass way of expressing his feelings when using his sketchbook. Everything he feels about you just drawn out, kissing, hugging, other things a 20 year old with art abilities draws.

The first person to find these sketches of you is Spy. His first thoughts follow the beat of, ‘This is really good anatomy.’ To ‘Is that the enemy medic?’

Spy tried to use it as leverage against Scout. Once Scout realized what had happened, he almost immediately decided to tell every red merc on his own terms.

It’s the most Jeremy thing he could do, but I genuinely believe he’d do it. Though it goes as well as you expect it to. Which is not great.

To sum it up, there were so many argument over it. Whether it is justified or not, but most were in agreement that they knew they can’t change his feelings about you.

Masterlist

[animestsstuff2]

Titterpated

ProHero Hawks x Fem VillainReader

Part 3

Master list here!

This will stick overall to the plot of MHA with some minor tweaks due to the self insert character! But nothing major.

Content warning: spoilers for S4/5!, manipulation, power dynamic (reader and Dabi),

15:00

Hawks wings floated him in the air as he sipped on the milky tea drink. His wings spanning out behind him as his eyes watched the bustling street below him. His eyes slightly dry and thoughts fuzzy. He was tired, coming off night patrol without his coffee was proving difficult for the avian.

He hadn’t seen you the rest of the week on his night patrol. He did, however, have a run in with a certain black haired man and the interaction left him on edge. His hair waving as he moved through the air deciding to land on rooftop as he replayed the encounter in his head. The request Dabi asked of him to prove himself to the league.

Buzz!

Hawks clouded thoughts vanished as a the Hero Commission icon displayed on his visor. His gloved finger pressing the side of the visor, answering the phone call.

“Hawks” it was Madam President. Hawks moved to sit down, allowing his feet to dangle over the edge as he sipped on his tea.

“Madam President, what do I owe the pleasure?” His voice calm and as ever laid back.

“I know you probably won’t want to hear this but we are putting you back on night patrol” Hawks stomach fluttered. The tea in his mouth getting caught in his throat. He managed not to choke and force out a reply.

“Yeah? How come? You know im an early bird” He feinted a whine. The Hero Commissions preening of him certainly came in handy as he collected himself and hid the excitement he couldn’t help but feel.

The excitement of possibly seeing you again. The excitement that swelled from somewhere deep in his mind.

“There has been movement by the League of Villains. A number of relevant people, people we needed to get more information on the League have been found..well their ashes found. Someone within the League knows, either that we are on to them or they are tying up loose ends” Hawks eyes narrowed instinctively as he thought back to the first night on his night patrol last week when Dabi incinerated that man. Was he an important figure?.

“So you want me find out why? Or just stop them before anyone else gets incinerated?”Hawks asked as his wings curled back in. His tea sat beside him as he rested his weight on his palm.

“Both if you can, finding out why is more important, stopping them is second. If you can find out who they plan to kill before it happens and relay it back to us so we can find out what they know” She stated. Hawks agreed to the request and he would be on tomorrows night patrol for the rest of the week.

Hawks felt something twitch in his stomach as his eyes scanned the ground below him. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat excited. He had orders to further pursue the League. The League that you were part of. Hawks lifted up as a distress signal displayed itself over his visor. His wings pushing him faster, feeling energised as the tea drink fell from the gush of wind. Maybe he didn’t really need coffee, something else had him all amped up.

03:00

You stood with Dabi on the rooftop of some building away from the League’s hideout as you waited. You weren’t sure what for. A yawn pushing its way past your lips as you rubbed your drying eyes.

“Tired Dove?” Dabi’s voice sent a shiver down your back. You glanced over at the man who had a cigarette hanging from his lips as he placed a booted food on the small wall around the roofs edge.

“A bit, why am I here? What are we waiting for” You asked, eyes scanning the dark sky. You didn’t have good vision at night the city lights helped a bit.

“You know why you’re here” You bit your lip at his vague answer that you understood completely. It was silly to ask Dabi why you were here. You weren’t even sure why it slipped out.

If I could i’d be anywhere else right now

Your shoulders tensed as large red wings came into view. Your eyes narrowing as you looked around for other pros as Hawks literally just appeared in front of you. Your eyes unable, however, to spot anyone else and instead focused back on the blonde man carrying a large duffle bag as he landed on the rooftop.

“Hey guys. I brought what you asked Dabi” Hawks voice was light as he dropped the duffle bag at your feet. Dabi crouched down as he unzipped the bag but your eyes were more focused on the yellow ones that stared back.

“You really did kill someone. Some hero you are” Dabi’s voice cut through the tension between you and Hawks and you stilled as your eyes glanced down, widening in horror at the body of the 3rd pro hero.

Hawks heart dropped at your expression. His fingers and stomach curling. Your eyes wide in shock horror as you took a small step away from the bagged hero. Dabi stood up from his position and looked over at you. A grin stapled across his face.

“Somethin’ the matter Angel? What? You thought a hero wouldn’t get their hands dirty, wouldn’t get blood on em’” He teased as he grabbed your wrist and kept you in place. The part of your face visible above your mask had paled slightly. Your body tensing at the almost unbearable warmth of Dabi’s palm as your eyes darted back to Hawks, whose brows were furrowed.

Why is she getting on like this? Wasn’t she a villain too.

“Hey now. I’d be a bit shaken if someone dropped a dead body at my feet huh Dabi” Hawks kept his composure as he forced a light laugh out. He hoped Dabi didn’t catch it, catch the concern he knew he let slip for a second. Dabi didn’t miss it, of course he didn’t. A man who grew up watching out for his father’s emotions, his mother’s distress. He didn’t miss anything.

Primal fuckin’ needs. Poor birdy.

“Hmm, suppose you’re maybe right Hawks. After all Angel here sticks true to her name, ain’t that right Dove. Never hurt a fly” Dabi teased as he finally released your wrist. You just nodded and kept your eyes downcast. A confusion of emotions swelling in your chest as you tried to ignore the growing warmth of your skin and feathers that trembled ever so slightly.

Ring!

Dabi’s hand reached into his coat and pulled a phone out as he flicked it open and walked a bit away. Hawks immediately casted his eyes back to you as he forced himself to say something, anything. He needed to say something to you, something within him wanted to speak to you.

“A-Are you okay?” Your eyes snapped up to meet his and you couldn’t help but feel surprised. He sounded different, sounded honest. His face no longer sporting a smirk, voice no longer light and airy rather weighed down with genuine concern.

“M’Fine just surprised me” you mumbled, growing sheepish as you crossed your arms over your chest wings reflectively coming to curl around your body as a cold breeze brushed by.

“Right, yeah. Your in the League, probably see things like this all the time” Hawks joked as he glanced at Dabi who had walked to the other edge of the rooftop.

“Yeah, always with Dabi so..” Hawks nodded as he puffed his cheeks out unable to draw his eyes away from the bright white of your wings. They were so clean and pristine. Hawks felt his stomach twist at the thought of Dabi preening you, helping with the considerable upkeep of such a quirk.

“Yeah? You guys a thing then huh.” Hawks voice was still light but his pupils had narrowed. You didn’t notice the changing look in the avians eyes as you felt your cheeks warm.

“Me and Dabi? N-No, tha-“

“So quick to say no Angel. Im hurt” Dabi’s voice from behind you made you jump as you instinctively spun round, never liking having Dabi out of your sight. Hawks watched carefully as you began stuttering again. Your wings fluffed out from surprise and embarrassment.

Yellow eyes flicked across your wings as they spotted a pin feather near the base where your wings met your shoulders. His hand reached before he could reason with his logical self that it was not a good idea. His fingers picked the feather, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger as yous stilled and the dry keratin flaked off revealing a short white plume underneath.

“Sorry! Im a real stickler for getting my own pin feathers when I seen that one I couldn’t help myself. Ya’ know like when someone sees a good spot” Hawks curled his arm around his head as he scratched the back of his head, cheeks tinting pink as he laughed lightly. He hoped both of you would buy his act at least Dabi.

“Thanks.” You mumbled as you turned back around. Dabi coming to stand beside you reaching down and grabbing the duffel bag. Hawks eyes flickering to it before meeting the blue eyes of the man before him.

“Alright Birdy. I suppose this’ll do for now. You’ll know when I next wanna talk” Hawks just nodded as Dabi turned on a booted heel and began to walk to the edge of the rooftop.

“Sorry again for touching your wings. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable” Hawks said loudly as he stared at you. You smiled slightly under your mask.

“It’s okay. I can’t get them all myself anyways” the pro just nodded as you turned and followed after Dabi who listened into the conversation as he held the rooftop door open.

“Think our Birdy likes you Dove” Dabi’s voice was cold as you glanced over at him. A stutter in your regular heart beat.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed thickly as his loud footsteps resonated in the dark stairwell.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself Angel. Out Birdy very obviously has an interest in you, probably due to those primal needs you lot carry in your genes. I was too quick to judge those primal needs of being a nuisance for me. I think we could actually use them” You couldn’t help it as your wings puffed out behind you. Dabi only chuckled.

“How would we use it?” You knew what Dabi wanted, you always did. The unfortunate ability of your quirk ensured Dabi would never go without.

“Was thinkin’ you could be my little messenger bird. You know pass all the needed information to and from Hawks and get to know him a little” Dabi told you as you exited the building below. Dabi threw his large trench coat at you and pulled a hoodie over himself.

You slipped the heavy coat on nose crinkling at the smell of cigarettes and smoke wafted into your nose.

“Well? I need an answer. That sound like a good idea?” Dabi asked as you walked down the sidewalk.

“Sounds good Dabi” You mumbled, slipping your hands into the big pockets as your wings folded further against your back.

“Good. Ill let crusty know but I just wanna make sure you remember what I told you” he stopped walking and you turned towards him as a grin crossed his face and he held grabbed your wrist with his hand, pulling you close as you gasped.

“You let those primal needs get in the way and I won’t hesitate to get rid of you. I may care for your quirk but the rest of the League couldn’t care less about your life so i’d watch it. I’m the only thing keepin’ you from deaths door” You nodded quickly as you ripped your hand from Dabi’s seeing a dark red mark forming as the her seared up your arm, tears welling in your eyes.

“C’mon. You know how much he complains if we are late” His voice was nonchalant, shoulders sagged as he walked ahead. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat as you followed trying desperately hard to ignore the burning on your wrist and the panic in your chest.

Ignoring Hawks truly would be impossible. You would just have to quell those needs festering within you. It shouldn’t be that hard, right?. You continued your walk in silence as both of you kept an eye out for any pros lurking about. The unfortunate thing about keeping an eye out for a specific thing is how easy it becomes to miss other things, things that are red, small and feathered.

The red plume having gathered the information needed shot back as Hawks stood high above on a different building, eyes focused in on your two figures as the small feather nestled itself back into his wing as decided on his next move. His wings spanning out as his feathers bristled in the slight breeze. His heart humming and skim prickling as he thought of you being the little messenger. He would be seeing you more.

Hawks took off as he searched for a 24/7 shop to find a calming tea to sort his nerves out. He had to remain professional. The commission would never hear the end of it if the news got out of him caught up with a villain. But the idea sent Hawks stomach twisting as he tried to force the imposing thoughts of you out. His hands sweaty as he ignored the feverish heat licking at him. He would need to call the doctor to see if any medicine could be taken to sort out this supposed ‘heat’ he was feeling.

[hyuckbeam]

hit or miss

you’re given a bet by your own best friend to finally earn you some kissing experience at the ripe age of 18, but what if he’s the one you’ve been wanting to kiss all along?

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

genre | fluff, just a bit of angst

warnings | y/n uses she/her pronouns, both y/n and hyuck are dumdums! kind of slow burn, curse words are explicitly mentioned, cousin!winter, i think that’s all but lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 4.3k words

note | this is pretty inspired by the webtoon “the kiss bet” because i currently have a hyper fixation on it and i absolutely love all the characters ;0; this is also way longer than intended but anyways,, i hope u enjoy! all rbs and likes are appreciated, thank you <3

D-15.

“in three, two, one, happy birthday, y/n!” your best friend, haechan announces aloud for everyone in your apartment complex to hear at 12 in the morning.

“come on! make a wish before the candles blow out!” winter, your cousin, urges you with a big smile on her face.

having just finished your night time routine and prepared yourself for a night's worth of sleep, you were rather shocked to see them with one of those trendy bento cakes and rainbow colored party hats adorning their heads.

despite your confusion, you walk up towards them with a grateful smile resting upon your lips. “seriously, when did you guys plan this?”

“oh, it was all my- ow, hey!” haechan gets cut off midway through his statement because of a nudge from winter’s elbow.

“what he was trying to say was it was all my doing. you’re welcome bubs!” your cousin beams, eyes creasing into crescents. “though i’d wish you’d hurry up. this cake isn’t holding itself up for you, y’know?” she adds on rather playfully but you can tell she truly meant it.

gathering a deep breath, you blow out the candles and cheers erupt from the people you deem closest to you. winter then sets down the cake on your coffee table in relief as your best friend slings his arm over your shoulder.

“sooo y/n, got anything planned for the year? a small resolution or something like that, i don’t know.” he rambles off, suggesting the idea of having a goal to work towards now that you were deemed an adult (though, haechan kept referring to this as the year that marks your jail-ability era).

you feel a little tingly from his touch, even when you know the two of you are just friends and nothing more. what you’re feeling is probably just a phase. it’ll go away.

“i’m not really sure, got any ideas for me?” you ask the two instead, eyeing them both in a back and forth motion.

“we can always work on that dating experience of yours- last i remember, it was up to the high number count of… zero.” your cousin chips in from the side as she slices the cake for the three of you to share, her tone sarcastic while she teases you.

it’s true, you didn’t have a lot (re: any) of experience in the dating sector, but perhaps that could change starting this year. “that… might not be such a bad idea.”

haechan’s interest seems to have been piqued — he’s making that look. that specific expression where the corners of his lips turn upwards, a brow raised, and that glint in his eye. oh, you know it all too well.

“come on.” you urge the boy. “start sharing your idea. i can practically see your mind ready to explode.”

“well, since you’ve asked me ever so kindly. how ‘bout a bet?” he starts, taking a few steps towards you with that cocky expression of his. “i bet you 10 dollars to kiss someone in two months. not that hard, right?”

“what- you want me to kiss some random person for 10 bucks?” you gawk out in surprise.

he only shakes his head, “i never said it needed to be a stranger. just, someone in general.”

you processed the idea thoroughly, running all sorts of possible scenarios in your head. wouldn’t it be much easier to kiss… haechan himself? that just seemed like the most plausible approach for you.

he wasn't a stranger — the furthest from one. you were comfortable with him. the kiss didn’t have to mean anything (though it might mean a tiny bit more to you), and in addition, you’d be making some cash.

everything seemed to check out. the only problem was that you had to ask him to kiss you. still, surely this was better than any other alternative, right?

“i’ll do it but… can’t i just kiss you and get it over with?” you finally voice out your thoughts, pretending to make your question sound playful in case the request backfires on you.

“you’re my best friend, that’s a little odd, don’t you think so?” haechan replies in the same tone, lightly ruffling your hair before going over to retrieve a slice of cake from winter.

ouch. way to have your first bit of “dating experience” be your best friend… friend zoning you. what a lovely start to your 18th birthday.

D-13.

a few days had passed since the bet you made with haechan had been established, but not one ounce of progress had been made.

to be fair, how were you supposed to kiss someone else when all you’ve ever wanted was for that kiss to be with your best friend? that’s tough luck.

you attending classes today doesn’t really help with your thoughts either, especially when both haechan and winter had been asking about said progress one after the other.

you’d be lying if they weren’t starting to give you a headache.

as if on cue, winter approaches you, some lecture books in hand and her bag slung on her shoulder. “y/n! how’s your progress?” here we go again.

“just as i told you yesterday, nothing yet.” you reply with a small sigh.

winter senses the frustration behind your words, encouraging her to suggest ideas to help you. “how about finding someone you like? it might make it easier for you know… to kiss them.”

“i don’t think that’s still a good- actually, you might just be onto something, minjeong.” your gears start to churn in your mind. in order to wash haechan off your mind, you might as well find someone else and maybe get an actual relationship out of it.

the idea was just perfect for you.

“have i ever told you how much i love you? i gotta go but i’ll see you after class, winter!” you excitedly bid her a goodbye, rushing to your classroom so you could better plan out your new gameplan.

though the most ideal situation was long gone, you now had a back up plan and you weren’t going to back down so easily from the bet.

you were now busily scribbling on your notepad, forgetting that a new student was to transfer into your class today. the teacher calls upon your attention and as you look up, your eyes land on a boy with great resemblance to a cute bunny.

apparently he’s the new transfer student.

the teacher gives him a moment to introduce himself. “hello everyone, my name is na jaemin. i hope we all get along!” so that’s his name, you thought to yourself.

surprisingly, he was told to take the seat in front of yours, offering you a small smile and a curt wave, one that you gladly return, before he takes his seat.

actually, maybe you really could forget haechan for just a teensy bit.

D-6.

a week goes by without haechan seeing you once. an entire week. was he always this eager to see you? to bask in the warm sight that is you? he thinks he must be going crazy.

the only time he ever gets updates about you is through winter which aren’t much to go on. he does remember a key detail she mentioned previously about how you’ve been spending time with that new student, jaemin.

what was so special about him anyways? well, he was surely going to find out soon.

as the bell rings to signal the start of recess, he dashes out of his classroom, taking big steps towards yours.

there, haechan finds you in his seat and he’s about to approach you until he sees you’re in the middle of a conversation with the one and only, na jaemin.

“this is how you do this, right?” jaemin asks you, directing your sight to a piece of paper that has a bunch of math formulas written on it.

“yeah! i’m surprised you got that rather quickly.” you compliment the boy in front of you with a small laugh.

your thoughts on jaemin have changed drastically since the first time you met him. he’s a sweet boy, someone you could never take advantage of. it just felt wrong to you so you just dropped your entire plan as a whole.

it was alright to lose the bet. at least you kind of made a new friend out of it, right? you smile to yourself at that thought.

to haechan, however, your smile is so bright in jaemin’s presence, it’s practically blinding everyone in sight. have you ever smiled at him like that? wait- why does that matter?

he doesn’t like you, no way.

you’re best friends, yeah. his love for you is as platonic as can be — at least that’s what he tells himself.

for someone as bold as haechan, he can’t seem to find the confidence in him to walk towards your table and steal your attention. instead, he steps out of the classroom, unnoticed by you.

D-5.

“JAEMIN DID WHAT!?” haechan yells into his phone, winter being on the receiving end of the call.

the girl tuts, “scream one more time and i’m hanging up on you. and yes, i heard he confessed to y/n. i don’t think she gave him an answer though.”

“sorry, look, i was just really surprised.” a deep sigh comes out from haechan before the call goes silent. he takes the time to process the situation, but the idea of you and jaemin being together just rubs him off the wrong way.

“doesn’t she see how bad he is for her?” he finally reasons out.

“uhuh, in what sense exactly?” winter retorts.

“he’s probably just using her to gain attention or something! can’t i look out for my own best friend?” the response is laughable, even to haechan, but he goes along with it.

winter laughs into the call, “are you even hearing yourself? that’s pretty baseless, even for you haechan.” she replies shortly afterwards. “seems to me like you’re jealous.”

“are you hearing yourself, winter? no i’m not! get your head screwed on properly!” haechan answers back in the same incredulous manner as she did to him just a few seconds ago. “who would i even be jealous of?”

“jaemin. who else? i think it’s pretty clear to most. you aren’t that great at managing your feelings, y’know-” the girl’s voice cuts off for a second, “-oh, i’m being called to dinner now but seriously, get yourself together haechan. i know you like my cousin. bye!”

the line goes beep and haechan tosses his phone onto his bed. she really did just leave him hanging like that. how could she after bringing that idea up?!

jealous? not a chance. haechan never gets jealous.

D-4.

haechan wakes up the next day feeling tired, having not slept a wink after winter’s words kept replaying in his head.

i know you like my cousin.

you like my cousin.

you like her.

and these same words follow him as he makes it all the way to school. perhaps seeing you in school would help him understand his feelings better.

he really just wants this to be over with.

with trudged steps, he makes his way to your classroom and luckily enough for him, there you were already in class before the first bell rang.

he blames it on the lack of sleep but you look so ethereal sitting down in your chair as you bop your head lightly to the music that’s presumably playing on your earphones.

the sight is something to behold- that is until he pivots his head ever so slightly and sees jaemin accompanying you. god, why does he have to be there.

so maybe haechan does get jealous. sometimes.

maybe that’s why he acts without thinking, swiftly dragging you from your chair and out to the school courtyard despite your protests.

“hyuck let me go-” you grumble, tugging on your arm but he doesn’t budge one bit. it’s only when you reach a bench in the furthest part of the courtyard he decides to get go of your wrist.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” you scoff out in disbelief. “this is the first time we’ve spoken in days. i think you could’ve just asked me if you really wanted to talk.” with the addition of those words, haechan finally realizes what he’s done. he knows it was wrong but he isn’t going to back down from the argument that was brewing between you two.

“me? how about you? you’ve been so lovey dovey with mr. perfect all this time! don’t you have yourself to blame on why we haven’t seen each other in so long?” he spat out coldly.

your heart sinks, and yet, you can’t help but feel even more enraged. its true, you’re part of the reason for the lack of communication between you two. after all, communication is a two way system. but doesn’t that also mean he’s also to blame?

“i enjoy jaemin’s company a lot! is that so wrong?” you shoot back, biting your bottom lip before mumbling the latter part of your statement. “at least he isn’t as grumpy as the person standing in front of me.”

ouch.

the boy hears this and gets ticked off even more. maybe it really is the lack of sleep but he seriously can’t understand her reasoning anymore. instead, he assumes she’s just doing all of this for the bet.

“do you really want to win the bet so bad? if that’s what you want, just kiss me and be over with it. i’m literally letting you win. you can stop seeing jaemin now.”

and that’s when it hits you a little.

why is he bringing the bet up all of a sudden when you just want a genuine relationship with jaem- oh. he couldn’t possibly see you as someone like that right? he said it himself! he doesn’t like you and even denied your request to kiss him a few weeks ago.

but, if that were all true, what other explanation would there be to his actions?

he takes your silence as a no, prompting him to leave you in the courtyard all alone.

you couldn’t seem to understand him at all no matter how hard you tried.

as soon as you got home from classes that same day, you rushed yourself back home and into the comfort of your bed and pillows — treating them as if they were your closest confidants and cried while you shared your troubles.

it wasn’t productive on your end but it was much needed for you to at least think straight. you’d been bottling your contemplations all day long after all.

here you are laying lifeless on your bed, using all your braincells to dicern what the fuck happened earlier this morning.

you know haechan doesn’t like you. you’ve said it to yourself so many times now.

maybe he’s just jealous you’ve been spending more time with jaemin because, although you have different intentions before, you realized you couldn’t see him in that way nor had the heart to just use him for your own gain.

haechan was a different story though. you feel flushed just thinking about him, knowing full well the both of you are in the middle of an argument between each other.

remembrance of the frustration hits, making you groan at the thought of having to remedy it. if you and haechan had anything in common, it would be the stubbornness you both share.

the last time you both got into an argument this big was back in junior high. neither of you spoke to the other for an entire month. it got so bad that both your parents had to call each other up to devise a way to get an apology out from the both of you.

though it would make the entire situation much easier, your parents no longer delve into these types of problems — and neither do haechan’s. you’re both all alone to fix this one yourselves and you wish you’d been more grateful to your parents for mending your relationship with haechan.

deep down, you already know the both of you will struggle to find the right timing, but you certainly hope that day would come soon. you didn’t exactly like being away from him either (even if he made you feel like shit for the rest of the day).

you decide to sleep off your worries for the night, hoping and praying that tomorrow would be a better day for you.

D-3.

tomorrow is not any better of a day.

jaemin and haechan both invited you to eat with them for lunch which quickly escalated into a light argument between the two. you couldn’t even bring yourself to butt into their conversation, seeing how they were fighting over something so silly.

“i’m her best friend, we do this pretty much everyday!” you hear haechan yell at jaemin, his frustration for the other getting the best of him. “plus, i need to talk with her. without you.”

“if the two of you are just best friends, then what gives you the right to dictate her answers?” jaemin fires back, keeping a calm and collected appearance throughout.

this shuts haechan up and the entire cafeteria goes dead silent. oh boy, did you want to curl up into a little hole. everyone was staring and you didn’t like that one bit.

nevertheless, you decided to be the bigger person — uttering a small apology to jaemin before walking off to the table you usually sat at with haechan — the latter following you a few steps behind.

neither of you speak as you begin to eat your separate meals, another sign the relationship between you two was starting to fade out into dust.

winter joins your lunch table shortly after witnessing the drama unfold, she looks at haechan with an unreadable expression and the boy stays quiet during the whole meal.

didn't he say he wanted to talk? an apology for the day before would have been nice.

you get fed up by the silence, placing your food back on the tray before picking it up. you mutter a quiet “i can’t seem to understand you at all.” directed at hyuck before leaving and switching over to the table where jaemin and his friends are sitting.

it all happened too fast and haechan didn’t realize you were leaving until you already did. he really did want to talk but how was he supposed to do that after having that situation with jaemin?

he wanted to calm down first but you had other plans. you really left him in shambles this time.

winter can’t help but sigh at the ongoing conflict. she silently wishes she wasn’t involved this much if it was going to turn out like this.

D-2.

haechan knows he truly has to make it up to you (including a long overdue explanation of why he’s been acting weirdly the past few days) but doesn’t know how to do that. apologies never came easy to him. his mind couldn’t help but go blank everytime he tried thinking of a way to approach you without making things more complicated than they already are.

the sheer amount of times he’s hit a brick wall has him calling the only person who probably knows more about you than he, himself, does.

he picks up his phone, searching through his contacts before landing on a single person, now waiting for the phone to ring.

“hello?” winter’s voice reaches him through the call. “i knew you’d call after what happened at the cafeteria.”

it takes a moment for haechan to answer, “maybe if jaemin wasn’t so aggressive–”

“you both were. now spill, have you gotten your feelings sorted yet?” the girl pushes his dramatics aside, getting straight to the point.

“i… think i do. you were right all along.” haechan finishes. although it was hard for him to admit at first, now that he’s actually said it out loud, it might be the first time he’s been feeling a sense of clarity after so long.

winter hums at his confession. “at least you’re finally taking a step in the right direction. now, to win her back…” she smiles to herself, already having a plan in mind.

you, on the other hand, have been seeing haechan and winter together often for the past week. naturally, your mind begins to wonder if your own cousin is the reason why haechan rejected you way back during your small birthday celebration.

the evidence matches up pretty well — he probably couldn’t reject you directly because she was in the room with the two of you that day. he isn’t spending as much time with you anymore because he’s spending time with her.

they look good together.

those words linger in your head more than you’d like to admit.

you feel cast aside by the people you’ve known practically your entire life but you don’t have much of a choice but to return to jaemin’s company. after all, you chose to eat the rest of your lunch at his table instead of the one that brought familiarity to you.

D-DAY.

day after day, the two of you just seemed to grow even more distant and you wondered if the end of your long-term friendship was nigh approaching. you barely saw him roaming through the halls of campus anymore, much less your cousin.

you didn’t dislike the new friend group you had (jaemin introducing you to his friends after you finally told him about your situation with haechan, but you couldn’t help but feel… dissatisfied with your current situation.)

as your class ends, you prepare yourself for another silent walk home. despite having those new friends, you felt lonelier than you ever had. you missed them. you missed him. and yet, life seemed to have other plans for you.

even trudging down these halls filled with other students made you lonely.

truthfully, you would do anything to have them back- a pain to your forehead snaps you out of your thoughts. you had bumped into someone. well, not just someone, but the person you’ve been longing for the most.

haechan. he was right in front of you after who knows how long it’s been.

you felt like crying on the spot but held in your emotions to appear like your life was anything but lost. haechan knew that look on your face, presuming you haven’t been well ever since the two of you have spoken. he takes your hands that have slumped to your sides into his, and the small gesture reminded you of the warmth he’d bring into your life.

“are you up for a short conversation perhaps?” you only nod and he takes that as a signal in the right direction, though, he isn’t used to you acting around him like this. oh boy, this was going to be more than a short conversation.

haechan leads you into the gymnasium and the two of you sit down by the bleachers with no sight of other students in the area.

“before you get mad- i wanted to apologize first. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. i was childish.” he begins, holding eye contact with you to show his sincerity. “frankly, i was jealous. jealous you spent more time with jaemin, and you seemed to enjoy you time with him more than the times we hang out together. i shouldn’t have made you feel sad in any way, but i did and that’s completely my fault. i’m sorry.” you know his words hold both his feelings and the truth.

he wasn’t going to lie to you. he never once did during the time you knew each other.

however, what he admitted to had you flustered.

he was jealous of you and jaemin? it was a little hard to believe until you remembered the latter confessed to you the past week. oh god, did word of that spread out? nevermind that, what happened between you and jaemin was the least of your worries, the boy in front of you was. what if haechan got the wrong idea from the rumors?

“it’s not completely your fault. we both were pretty stubborn.” you reply, a soft chuckle leaving your lips to ease the tension between you two. “and if… if you’re curious, i never returned jaemin’s feelings back.

haechan gets pretty taken aback by your statement, now wondering why you brought it up. “oh… i know.”

“you knew? did winter tell you?” you question in anticipation. “i guess the both of you are pretty close now.”

“she did but i swear our friendship is nothing like that!” it was his turn to get flustered. “she could never replace your spot in my life.”

“i’m a little confused though after all of this…” you gesture out, referring to the situation that has just recently moved past you two. “what spot do i even have?”

he pauses, taking his time to think of the right words he wants to tell you but they all get stuck in his throat. the expression on your face showed how you took his silence negatively, prompting him to speak. “i like you. i couldn’t admit it even to myself for the longest time and-” having enough of his rambling, you inch a little closer and give him a kiss on the lips.

it’s brief, and yet, it continues to linger on his lips. “you kissed me.”

“why do you think i never gave jaemin an answer to jaemin’s confession?”

“so you were really saving it for me? i’m honored.” he chuckles out, playfully holding his hand to his chest.

“well, you should be.” you add on with the same bright smile he’s seen you flash at jaemin, except this time, it was absolutely for him.

“i guess that also means you won the bet?” he recalls, a brow raising at you.

you give him a light nudge on his shoulder while suppressing a giggle, “oh, shut up and just kiss me. you owe me 10 bucks by the way.”

tags !!

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 3

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.2K

Masterlist

April 2004

I could give a thousand reasons why

But you're going, and you know that

All you have to do is stay a minute

Just take your time

The clock is ticking, so stay

-Stay, Zedd

The bustling cafe feels inviting from the outside, but unfortunately, that atmosphere dissipates once you enter. If you aren’t a fan of crowds, that is. I glance at the clock on the wall, opting to order a second drink before leaving, given it’s pretty obvious that the friend that invited me out here isn’t coming. The barista gives me a small smile that spreads across her pink cheeks, her button nose scrunching while dimples appear.

“Another one?” She assumes, offering to take my empty cup. I nod silently, handing it to her before she rings up the same drink. Reaching for the cash in my pocket, I am beaten as a voice speaks up behind me, moving forward and placing a hand on the small of my back, my muscles tensing at the contact.

“I’ve got hers.” Oh, I know that voice. I release a breath before turning to him. His hair is much smoother than the first time I saw him and a bit damp, obvious that he’d recently showered, which is also evident by the woodsy scent that wafts off of him in waves. I’ve never been this close to him, not with his face this close anyways, and it’s hard not to notice the small details. A small mole on the bottom of his chin, dark circles under his crystal blue eyes, and a small cut on his jaw, presumably from shaving.

“Agent Kenned-” He finally looks at me, eyebrows raised before he cuts me off.

“Ah. Leon,” he corrects, corner of his lip coming up into a small smirk.

“Sorry. Leon. Why are you buying my coffee?” The question feels redundant, his card having already swiped through the machine after he orders a simple black coffee, but I find myself asking anyways.

“I owe you.” He says it as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, and he chuckles at my furrowed brows. Glad he thinks my confusion is funny. “For patching me up?”

“You know, Leon, that is kinda my job. I was paid to do that,” I explain before the barista hands me a warm cardboard coffee cup, followed quickly by her handing Leon his. It’s almost impossible to miss the phone number scribbled in black sharpie on the brown cardboard sleeve, and I release my own small giggle at the barista’s balls. I’d never be brave enough to do that.

“Something funny, Nurse Nosy?” I scoff at the nickname, wishing he could have settled on literally anything else as we step away from the line, standing off to the side.

“Do you always get phone numbers without asking?” I tease. She was really pretty.

“Sorry?” Now it’s his turn to look confused, eyebrows furrowed. I gesture to the coffee cup resting in his hands, and he looks at it before glancing back at the barista, who gives him a smile and wink. When he turns back to the point where he’s out of her line of sight, he rolls his eyes. “So, any big Saturday plans for the off-duty nurse?” He inquired leisurely, trying to make casual conversation as we slowly move toward the door.

“Well, I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee, but she bailed,” I uttered, embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

“Why not call up some of your other friends?” His unoccupied hand now rests in the pocket of his dark wash jeans, and for a moment, I find my mind racing at noticing his casual attire. A simple tee shirt, dark wash jeans, and are those Converse? I snort in response, wrapping both hands around the cup, my eyes looking around the coffee shop. Anywhere but at him.

“I think you overestimate my social skills.”

“You don’t-” He has the decency to at least seem surprised.

“It’s okay. I have a hot date with my GameCube,” I joked, an overexaggerated wink tossed in his direction. “Thanks again for the coffee.” Turning to leave, I give him a small wave, which he returns, although his eyes look like he’s locked in an argument with himself. As my fingers make contact with the cool metal of the door handle, he speaks again, loud enough that I can hear him over the whir of the machines and the light chattering of people.

“Nurse Nosy!” I turn, irritation growing on my face as he quickly makes his way over to me.

“Can you pick a different nickname, please?” I ask, and he ignores the question in favor of his own request.

“A couple of friends and I are grabbing drinks tonight. Come with.” It takes me by surprise, him inviting me out with his friends.

“Look, if this is a pity thing, it’s fine. I’m content in my loneliness.”

“It’s not. I’m just trying t-”

“To help?” His sentence is finished by me, and for a brief second, I see a flash of embarrassment on his cheeks due to the nature of my line of questioning the first time we met.

“I’m just trying to invite you out for a drink. That’s all.” It’s clear he’s not used to the pushback when it comes to these things, my skepticism and self-doubt making this harder than it needs to be.

“Why?” He rolls his eyes again, probably regretting asking in the first place by now.

“Because you seem like a decent person, and I don’t hate your company. Is that so hard to believe?” Yes. It is. Because you are you and I’m… well… me.

“Fine. One drink. Can I have the address?” I concede, figuring why the hell not. Leon allows a small smile onto his face as he nods, pulling out a pen.

“Sure. It’s only like 30 minutes away.” My face drops, mentally calculating cab fare cause there’s no way in hell I can walk that far, nor would I want to. “Something the matter?”

“No. I’m just thinking about cab fare, that’s all.” It’s not embarrassing to admit, a lot of people in DC don’t have cars, and cabs are on almost every street near the city center.

“Wait, you don’t have a car?” He pauses.

“Nope. It’s on my to-do list, and I’ve got a good chunk saved up. Should hopefully have one in the next couple months,” I explain. He returns the pen to his pocket as quickly as he removed it.

“I’ll pick you up then.”

“What?” That surprises me, his offer.

“Yeah. I invited you out. Feels a little shitty for me to force you to pay for a cab.” I get his logic, but it still feels strange.

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

“It’s no problem. If you give me your address, I can pick you up at like 6:30ish.” There’s no arguing with this guy, is there? I nod hesitantly, telling him my address, which he writes on his arm in small rough letters while I hold his coffee.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” I question one last time, gesturing to his recently scribbled-on arm.

"I invited you, didn’t I?” He smirks, taking his drink back, fingers brushing against mine and sending a shiver down my spine. “See you at 6:30.” Then he winks. He fucking winks. My heart jumps in my chest, too stunned to speak as he turns on his heel and heads for the door. “Hey Nurse Nosy?” He grabs my attention once more. “Wear pants.” Then he’s out the door. Pants?

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Thirteen

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: cyber bullying

Previous | Next

————————————————————————

Fernando answered the phone almost immediately.

“Hey man, where did you go?” He asked jokingly.

“Hey, sorry. I’m on a plane to Barcelona right now. I know it’s a long shot but I need your help.”

Fernando has taken Lance under his wing during his time at Aston Martin. He had certainly been a questionable driver in the past, but his support for Lance and mentorship had been much appreciated.

“What do you need?” Seriousness seeping into his tone.

Lane explained the backstory, spilling everything that had happened from Spa to the gala to the media shitstorm and the assault. He talked about how he could get ahold of you, and how he was on a flight right now to track her down, but that he didn’t know her address. Pleading with man to see if there was any strings he could pull with friends in his home country, if he could somehow find out the address Lance would owe him for life.

“Ok. I’ll see what I can do. And Lance?”

“Yes?” He replied.

“You don’t owe me for this. Trying to be a good person should never be tied to strings.” He stated before hanging up the phone.

Lance scrolled through social media, looking for every bit of information he could find. Every gossip article, wag account, and f1 page we’re talking about it. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he read the comments from fans and critics alike. While people were certainly commenting on how he and Carlos were trying to screw over Lando, the vast majority were negative about Y/N. Lance had tried to stay away from the negative fan comments throughout his career, but he knew people could be cutthroat. These comments were the standard jabs that the drivers got about nepotism, paid seats, being crash prone, etc. These were personal attacks about her appearance, sexual history, even threats. Reading some of what people were saying made him nauseous.

After an hour a text came through with an address from Nando. Pulling it up on a map he realized it was one of the Barcelona suburbs. He had guessed right about which airport to fly into.

A few minutes later another text came through from Nando, this time with instructions about how someone would meet him at the airport with a car. He had never been more thankful for the older driver than he was in that moment.

————

A knock sounded on your door at 8 pm. You hadn’t told anyone you were leaving the race, nor did you know who would be here at this time. Creeping towards your window you peeled back the blinds, seeing a figure waiting at your stoop. The sun had set earlier, clocking the person in too much darkness to distinguish.

Another knock sounded. You grabbed a shoe from near your door, hiding your hand behind your back you prepared in case you needed to hit someone. Not your best weapon, but your brain was too scrambled right now to think of something better.

Unlocking the deadbolt, you left the chain attached, cracking the door. The person standing on your doorstep was the last person you’d expected.

“Lance what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

You paused, unsure of how to respond. Your suitcase still sat in your living room, unpacked. An empty bottle of wine on your coffee table next to your couch. The apartment looked as disjointed and chaotic as you felt just then.

“Please Y/N.” He said.

You caved, undoing the door chain and letting him into the space. He set down his backpack before turning to face you.

“What do you want? Why are you here?” You asked.

“Are you okay?” He asked nervously.

You stared at him in silence. Sitting down on your couch you winced, flicking on the lamp. Staring at him you said nothing.

“That was probably a dumb question. Fuck. I’m sorry.”

As he turned to look at you, he inhaled.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah fuck.” You replied.

“I saw what happened. I’m so sorry. I turn my phone off on race day, but as soon as I heard I tried calling. None of them went through and the front desk said you checked out early.”

“Yeah.” You weren’t sure what more to say. How do you even respond to that.

“I can’t believe the attacked you. How bad is it?” He asked, reaching for you.

Leaning back you stared at him.

“I’ve definitely felt better.”

“What did the doctors say?” He questioned.

You continued to sit in silence, fiddling with the pajama pants you had on.

“Y/N. What did the doctor say?” He repeated.

“I didn’t go Lance. I don’t exactly want to be wandering around alone right now…” You trailed off.

His mind ran, questioning why you wouldn’t have gone to the hospital. Why security at the hotel hadn’t called for medics yesterday.

“You were bleeding.” He responded.

“Yeah. I dropped my wine and cut myself.”

“Where?” He asked.

A sigh escaped your mouth, wondering how you had ended up here.

He approached slowly, reaching for the cuff of your pajama pants when you flinched back. The idea of anyone touching you had your heart rate spiking.

He stared at you, before trying again. Whispering reassurances under his breath, you caved. You didn’t have any fight left in you to tell him no right then.

Sliding the pant leg up he saw a small bruise on your left leg, but nothing serious. It was when he moved your right pant leg that he saw it. A purple bruise about the size of his hand was on your shin, from the kick. Further down was a large bandage, disappearing under the edge of your sock. Lifting your foot he peeled off your sock, before gently lifting the edge of the bandaid. An angry cut stared back at him, wrapping across your ankle and to the top of your foot before ending near your arch, about 8 centimeters in length, blood slowly pooled out of it with the bandages pressure removed. He inhaled sharply.

After replacing the bandage he reached for the edge of your shirt, before slowly sliding it up your rib cage. Four large purple bruises covered your sides, the result of the elbows and hits people at thrown in the crowded mess.

His expression grew harsh.

“Fuck. Y/N you need to go to the hospital. I think that cut might need stitches and the bruises on your ribs look bad.”

“Lance I really would prefer that you don’t lecture me right now. I’ll go in a few days if they’re still bad okay?”

He stared into your eyes before walking back to the door. Picking up his backpack he unzipped it, pulling out a hoodie and slinging the bag over his shoulder. He reached down and grabbed your sandals, blood still on the right one from last night. He slid them onto your feet, before pulling the hoodie over your head.

You went limp, letting him take care of you. He held out his hand, pulling you to a stand.

“We’re going to the hospital.”

Standing up, a wince rolled through you at the weight you put on your foot. Before you had time to move he was bending down and lifting you into the air. Balancing you he reached for the keys on your entry table, locking the door behind himself as he carried you out to a waiting black car.

Gently setting you back down, he pulled the seatbelt across you and buckled it. Moving to the driver side, he sat down and turned on the car before pulling away from your street.

The ride to the hospital was silent, the radio turned off. Your phone had died hours ago, but the occasional buzz from his broke up the silence every few minutes. Keeping his eyes on the road, hands clenching the wheel tightly, he followed the gps to the nearby 24 hour clinic.

————

Settling her back into the car two hours later, Lance tried not to jostle her. After five stitches, X-rays of her shin and ribs, and a diagnosis of one broken rib and two bruised, the doctors had given her pain medication, before she had fallen asleep waiting for the nurse to bring the crutches.

He was seething. Five fucking stitches and a broken rib all because she had talked to him and hugged Carlos after going to the gala with Lando. His anger simmered under the surface as he drove back to her apartment.

Flicking on the lights he opened doors until he found her bedroom, laying her down gently and plugging in her phone. Pulling the blankets over her, be closed the door and returned to the living room.

He knew texts had been coming in since he had run out of the press area. He was sure his PR agent was trying to play damage control. He was sure Mike had reached out too, letting him know that he should be expecting a fine from the FIA for skipping out early.

Right then he didn’t want to talk to anyone. Calling the only person who might be able to calm him down, he rang his sister.

“Lance? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you! Would it kill you to answer your phone! I saw the post race interview. There’s photos of you all over Twitter running through the paddock like a mad man. Dad said you took off in the jet? Where are you?”

“Barcelona.”

“YOU’RE IN BARCELONA!” She yelled.

“Yeah.”

“You need to explain. Start from the top.” She said.

Exhaling you’re mind raced.

You heard her call Scotty in.

“You’re on speaker Lance.”

And then he repeated everything. Relaying the whole story from top to bottom, meeting, hooking up (with less details), the gala, the post race interviews, how he ended up in Barcelona, the stitches and broken rib.

“Lance.” Said Scotty.

“Yeah man?”

“Lance this isn’t your fault.” He replied.

“I mean it sort of is. If I hadn’t ever pulled her aside at the gala that photo wouldn’t have leaked and..”

“Lance!” His sister cut off.

“It’s not your fault.” She repeated.

He sighed into the phone. How had the weekend gone to shit so quickly?

“Lance can you hear us?” She called.

“Yeah, I can hear you.” He replied.

“Where are you now?”

“I’m sitting on her couch.”

“Ok. Are you staying there?” She asked.

“Of course I’m fucking staying here.” He snapped.

“Ok. Do you care about her?“ She asked gently.

Confusion clouded his mind. Did he care about her? Sure they’d hooked up, and he had been a little jealous that she had gone to the gala with Norris. But they hadn’t gone out on a date, never had any real deep conversations.

“Honestly Chloe, I’m not sure. I don’t know. All I know is she deserves to have someone watching out for her right now. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“Ok. Can you keep us updated please? Let us know if we can help at all. And maybe call Mom and Dad?”

He sighed, his form of agreement. Ending the phone call, he settled into the couch and pulled out his phone to start responding to everyone else he had put off.

————————————————————————

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 11: Bankruptcy

So. Daniel Säure owns the majority of Morning Glory Corporation. And by extension, the majority of all the businesses that Morning Glory owns.

But unlike the C.E.O. of Morning Glory, he’s allowed himself to become the face of the company. The president.

In the United States, corporations have this thing called fiduciary responsibility toward their stakeholders. Which means that they have to, above all else, make profits for their stakeholders’ investments. The corporation literally, legally owes them returns.

There are a number of things those stakeholders can do if the company fails to fulfill its duties.

And this is one of the biggest reasons why business in the U.S. is so fucked up. Or so I’m told by certain regulars of the coffee shop.

I’ve tried looking it up, but it’s just not my special interest. I have trouble focusing on and understanding the articles on the subject.

But it seems to be a good explanation for what’s happening.

Because, things happen to the stocks of a company when its public facing leader is seen terrorizing an entire city and threatening to crush sections of it with his enormous, terrifying bulk. His window shattering supersonic screams in the middle of the night didn’t seem to help his case much, either.

And it wasn’t just that one night that it happened.

I think we did manage to make him desperately angry. Insulted. Not me. We. I set out to do it, but wow has everyone else really done the work.

And as his own stocks start plummeting, and he’s seeing what he’s doing to himself, he’s lashed out more wildly.

Last night, we got to see what the gaming nerds call his breath weapon. There really isn’t a better term for it.

To make some kind of a point, around midnight, after strafing my building again, and setting off another one of Chapman’s traps, he hit the bay with a beam of ultraviolet light. It created a huge plume of scalding steam, and probably wasn’t great for life in the bay.

Word is, it blinded a bunch of people, and everyone is talking class action lawsuit or even criminal charges. Though no one knows how to bring him to court.

Säure has become a dangerous dragon.

He’s a whole different class of monster, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

At some point, he’s going to aim that beam of deadly light at the city itself.

But, for some reason, so far, he hasn’t.

Still, someone’s going to have to do something about it.

But, as a side effect, people are starting to rally around the idea that we neighborhood dragons are preferable in comparison. Maybe even beneficial, and with the hope we can protect the city.

I don’t know about that anymore. But it is a nice thing to hear every now and then.

—

“Nah,” Rhoda says. “That ‘breath weapon’ of his is bullshit.”

It’s late Sunday morning, the 29th of September.

We’re having mimosas and ham and egg somethings at the Sanctum, a weird hybrid Perisian/New Orleans psuedo-Catholic themed goth gay club on Wallace and Halley, the actual center of my territory. They’re open for gay brunch every Sunday, with half off mimosas if you flash them your gay card. A card that they give to anyone who asks for it. There’s no gatekeeping, it’s just a promotional joke and a bit of a dare.

And by “we”, I mean Nathan, Kimberly, Chapman, Rhoda, and I. 

Ptarmigan is missing. None of us have seen her since the night she last spoke to Rhoda. And I wonder if she’s doing something with Wentin, because I haven’t heard from it, either.

The others of my family are off doing their own things. We’re just who had the time and energy to meet here.

“Well,” Nathan says. “Terrifying deadly bullshit he could use to fry us all any time he wants.”

“Nope,” Rhoda says, bringing her mimosa to her lips. “Just bullshit. And I’m having none of it.”

I look directly at her and she meets both my eyes and keeps drinking, a smirk on her lips.

Chapman notices this, I can see, but doesn’t say anything.

“I’d feel better if he wasn’t out there,” Nathan says. “But, at least, we’re not alone in that.”

I have noticed, the general tension in Fairport now feels a lot like the later Cold War fear of nuclear holocaust that was instilled in me as a child by my family.

I know a lot of people didn’t experience it, but it was drilled into me. I was reminded time and again that my parents did the whole duck and cover thing, and then they’d talk about all the times the world came to the brink of self destruction. And, when I looked into it myself, later, when I had the internet and the resources and will to do so, I found they weren’t lying. They’d just underestimated the danger.

This feels like that.

But people go about their business and are mostly cheerful to each other, at least superficially, as is the habit of the typical Pacific Northwesterner.

I think Rhoda is the most relaxed of anyone in the county, and I might be the second most relaxed. And, looking at Chapman now, I may have found the third.

Unless Ptarmigan is still in the county, then all bets are off.

“Drink your mimosa, Nathan,” Kimberly says. “You need your vitamins, old man.”

“Heel,” Nathan says to her through a smirk, and then looks away and drinks his mimosa.

Kimberly throws a balled up napkin at him.

“Bad girl.”

“Woof.”

Chapman really does want to say something though, and chooses, “What did Ptarmigan say when she last saw you?”

“Oh, nothin’,” Rhoda says and pops a ham and egg bite into her mouth.

I tilt my head at Chapman and then decide to work on a promise I’d made over a month ago.

I tap my tablet several times in quick succession and then hit talk, “Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I listen to it carefully and then hit it again.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” my tablet says.

Then I look at Chapman and say, “Shit.” In my voice.

“That’s some good shit,” Kimberly says, and Nathan throws the rolled up napkin back at her.

Chapman gives me a look and says, “I don’t think that’s what she said.”

I bob my head and type, “She didn’t. She did say, ‘Holy Jesus fuck, Chapman.’”

“What? Why?”

“Your trap,” I respond.

“OK, that’s fair.”

Rhoda sighs, “Chapman.”

“Yes?” the Physicist asks.

“You’re bullshit, too,” Rhoda says. “And so is Ptarmigan.” Then she points. “But because Meg likes you, I’m gonna tolerate you. In fact, you and Meg can keep working on Säure, just so long as Meg doesn’t get hurt.”

Chapman furrows hir brows in confusion, and Kimberly catches on that something’s happening.

“Rhoda? What’s up?” Kimberly asks.

Rhoda chuckles and smirks and sips her drink.

Chapman starts to look downright unsettled, and asks, “May I? Would anyone object if I scanned the general situation in Fairport right now?”

A month ago, sie wouldn’t have said anything so blatant out in the open. Things have seriously changed. Sie has decided hir vow is defunct.

“As long as it doesn’t interrupt me or my thoughts, go ahead,” Rhoda says. “Actually. I’m very curious about the results, so please tell me.”

I glance back and forth between them. It feels a little bit like a showdown.

“OK,” Chapman says and looks at Rhoda briefly through hir brow before closing hir eyes and touching scan tattoos together.

There’s hir shift. It’s a big one, too. I feel it from tip of my snout to end of my tail. And, once again, it comes from the center of Chapman’s chest.

And then Chapman opens hir eyes and looks at Rhoda with new consideration, blinking hir eyes a few times.

“Yes?” Rhoda says.

“You’re a Bellwether,” sie says.

“What does that mean?” Rhoda prompts hir.

“Well,” Chapman says, glancing at each of the rest of us. “In the sense that I use the word, not really its original meaning, everything chaotic, everything that’s fibrillating around you within a certain radius, is being influenced by you specifically. You’re like the eye of the storm. It’s… impressive? Really dangerous if you want it to be.”

“Hm.”

“What?” Kimberly asks.

“What’s going on?” Nathan asks, finally catching up to the conversation.

“I don’t know what has happened,” Chapman says. “I can probably guess, but I didn’t see it. All I’m seeing is what’s happening now. But, for the moment, Nathan, we’re safe because Rhoda wants to be safe. And if there were a flock of birds flying by right now, she could probably wave her hand and they’d change direction.”

“Hm,” Rhoda makes that noise again. It’s sort of a cross between a hum, a grunt, a laugh, and a sob. Quiet, but it jerks her body.

I lean over and bump her shoulder softly with my brow. It’s a thing I’ve started doing in the past couple of days. She seems to appreciate it. Sometimes she’ll reach up and put her hand on my nose or the back of my skull for a moment. Which usually makes me want to push into her hand a little harder.

This time she just says, “Thank you, Meg.”

“So, are you saying that she’s keeping Säure from nuking us somehow?” Nathan asks.

“Very possibly,” Chapman says. “Along with a whole bunch of other consequences.”

“Well, I mean, I guess that’s a relief,” Nathan says. “Thank you, Rhoda. If you’re doing that.”

“I have to say,” Rhoda says. “I’m doing it for me, if I’m doing it at all. But you are absolutely welcome. Everyone should get to be safe.”

“What’s the radius?” Kimberly asks.

Chapman purses hir lips and looks around, squinting at the sky, then says, “That’s fuzzy. I think it depends on just what you’re talking about. For instance, obviously Säure was able to fry the bay.”

“And that was bullshit, and he won’t be doing that again,” Rhoda says.

“And he won’t be doing that again,” Chapman agrees.

“How long is it going to last?” Kimberly puts her mimosa down on the table and turns to look more fully at Chapman.

Chapman shrugs and says, “I haven’t seen this before. I can only tell you what it is from my own perspective as the Physicist. I’m sure Ptarmigan has other words for it. So, there’s no precedent in the entire history of the Earth. Which isn’t a surprise, because we’ve been feeling that way about the dracomorphosis. But I think I can hazard a guess by the rate of decay I saw.”

“Yeah?”

“Unless something else happens to change it all,” Chapman says. “Rhoda’s remaining lifetime. Which, if she decides that her own death is bullshit, I’m guessing could be quite a while.”

“Woah.”

“All I want is to live in a world that makes sense to me,” Rhoda says. It’s been a morning refrain for her for the past few days.

“And dragons make sense?” Nathan asks as gently as he can.

“I think I want them to,” Rhoda says. “But I don’t know that I have a say in that matter. I don’t know about any of this. But I’ll take it if it’s working.”

I bonk her shoulder again, and she pats my nose.

Then I grab and swallow a ham and egg bite. Then I drink from my bowl of mimosa that’s at my feet. The others went in on getting that for me, since I’ve spent so much of my paltry income this month.

Oh, and I did get my card back from Megan the server.

The bartender here seemed absolutely tickled to serve me a salad bowl of orange juice and alcohol. He seemed to need something to be tickled about, too. The municipal worry has affected him as much as anyone else.

I reach up to my tablet again and say, “Something need done about Säure, tho. Scaring people. Could hurt others elsewhere.”

“Can he?” Kimberly asks.

Chapman shrugs and looks at Rhoda.

“Don’t look at me, spirit. This is all your magic,” Rhoda says.

“It really isn’t,” Chapman says. “It’s currently yours. But I can help you figure it out.”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t want that responsibility,” Rhoda says. “I want to live my life. And with other people who want to live theirs. But like I said. You and Meg can work on Säure, so long as she keeps coming home.”

Chapman and I look at each other.

“How can I help?” Kimberly asks.

“Who, girl. Down,” Nathan says, eyes a little wide.

Kimberly throws the balled up napkin back at him without looking his way.

Chapman looks at her and considers the question, “Well, I think we’ve all been doing pretty well by Meg and Rhoda here already. We’ve survived the chaos of the first month of dracomorphosis, and we’ve survived the tantrums of the local billionaire. I think we start by continuing to do that.”

“Yeah?”

“But, if you want, and you have the time, you can help me research some things,” Chapman says. “Do you like digging around in the library and making the internet give you treats?”

Kimberly squints in disbelief and opens her mouth part way before smirking and laughing and saying, “Yeah. OK. I’m your girl for that.”

“Good girl,” Nathan says.

“Please stop,” Kimberly tells him.

“Sorry. I will,” he tilts his head toward her. Then he smirks impishly and says, “It’s your lead now.”

“Look,” she says to him. “The day I get to be a real live werepoodle, I’m going to hump your leg in public.”

“Ok. Uncle. Uncle for you. I’m done. Seriously,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“You wouldn’t really do that, would you?” he asks.

“Not without your consent,” she shoots back.

He just nods, and she smiles briefly at him.

Coworkers.

This makes me think of another thing, so I type one word, “Molly.”

“Huh?” Rhoda perks up a bit, and looks halfway my direction.

“How can I make sure Molly is OK? Ethically,” I ask with more care.

“Who’s Molly?” Kimberly asks.

“Oh,” Rhoda says, leaning onto the table. “Hm.” She looks at me, then at the others. “She’s a girl who met Meghan the first time she was shedding. Only, Meg got the impression that Molly was her chosen name, and that she might also be a dragon. Or, Molly said she wished she was like Meg.”

I bow my head briefly.

“How old is she?” Nathan asks, leaning forward in interest himself.

Rhoda looks at me.

“Ten or twelve. Don’t know,” I respond.

“Did you meet her parents?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

“That’s tricky,” he says. “For your legal safety, you should stay away. She’s not your responsibility, and her parents could get protective quick.”

“It really sucks,” Kimberly says. “But, yeah. Even if we were just talking about being trans, between you and her. The best thing you can do is do social work and activism and help the rest of us try to make the world better for her. But you’ve gotta look out for yourself, or you can’t do that. This world is a minefield.”

“Add in the dragon thing,” Nathan says, “and who knows how it’ll go?”

“I may have made Meghan promise me something,” Rhoda says.

“Yeah?” Nathan prompts her.

“To make sure Molly gets what she needs,” she replies. “I was distressed and in my way about my own losses. And my beef with the universe is only growing, too, but that’s between me and it now. But, I think I’d ask it again, even now. I know it’s a tall order and a tough one. But if her parents can’t accept her being trans or being a dragon, that needs to change. For the sake of her life.”

“Can you make that change?” Kimberly asks.

Rhoda shrugs and shakes her head. “I can say what I want, but I can’t make it happen.” Then she spears me with a squinty look from her sparkling eyes, and says, “She’s queen, not me.”

I bonk my head against the table, jostling everyone’s drinks but not quite spilling them.

—

If Säure and Morning Glory’s spiral continues as it is, there could be bankruptcy in their future. Either his or the company’s, or both.

Usually, on paper, that would seem unlikely. Säure’s base of wealth, invested in Pacific Northwest land holdings as it is, should be pretty robust.

But even that corner of the stock market is still a complex system and in a constant state of chaos.

And Säure’s feeling like he’s between a rock and a hard place. Being a building sized dragon is really inconvenient for him and his business. And that alone is such a challenge to keeping things stable, apparently.

But it looks like he’s also got the attention of the Bellwether of the dracomorphosis, and he lives a bit too close to her, too.

And she wants to see him go down.

So, bankruptcy for a billionaire is probably a little different than it is for a commoner, one of us plebes. But, generally, your remaining assets get divided up by the court to pay off your debts and then you are declared free of them. You’re supposed to end up free of both assets and debts, so you can start again.

So, the question we’re all faced with now is, what does a giant UV laser breathing dragon do when he’s no longer hamstrung by his own hoard?

And can the Bellwether’s influence still affect him at that point, when he’s free of some of the bigger complex systems that currently grip him?

Neither Chapman nor Rhoda seem certain of that.

And there’s sort of a countdown to that point.

A fuzzy countdown of indeterminate time.

Some of us wonder if Rhoda could just end Säure somehow, maybe by waving her hand and causing the storm around her to swallow him up in some way. Whatever that might mean.

But she just doesn’t want to do it.

Maybe she doesn’t want to prove to herself that she has that much power. Maybe she doesn’t want to become that kind of being. And I, for one, can absolutely respect that.

So, that leaves Chapman and I, and the rest of us, floundering about trying to think of something else.

And so, one day, after a short time of enjoying my new routines and respite in Rhoda’s apartment, I ask Chapman about that collaborative project Ptarmigan had proposed.

Maybe not the specific project, but the idea of doing a collaboration with her at all.

What could they do if they worked on something together that was big?

Could they focus it on Säure?

We’re sitting outside the coffee shop, and when I ask my question, Chapman stares at me for a long time afterward without saying anything.

[onlygenxhere]

For the @jatpfebfanfest my secret giftee is @daintyduck99

So it was a no brainer that I needed to write a Reggie-centric story. It’s a little softer than I’d originally thought it would be and fairly cannon-ish. Hope you like it!

A day in the life of a ghost bassist

The alarm on the phone Ray gave him just last week went off under Reggie’s pillow and he pulled it out to silence it quickly before it could wake the others up.

He rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes waking up quickly. The need to sleep was new since Julie’s magical hug made them all solid to her and visible to others if she was touching them.

Ray had been just as cool as he’d hoped he’d be when she’d told him about them and welcomed them into their home, or at least the studio, without too much hesitation.

He looked to his left and was only a little surprised to not see Luke there. He was pretty sure he knew where he’d eventually crashed.

Luke was probably the only one that wasn’t a fan of needing to sleep again. He hadn’t been much of a fan of sleeping when he was alive so it wasn’t surprising.

Reggie got up, got dressed and put the sofa bed back together so they could use it as a sofa this afternoon.

Poofing into the kitchen he started the coffee like he did every morning now. He could have some if he wanted but he mostly just liked the smell.  Once that was going, he moved to the other side of the kitchen and started to empty the dishwasher having noticed Ray must have run it before he went to bed last night.

He was just finishing up when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Good morning Reggie,” Ray said through a yawn as he came in the room. “How are you this morning?”

“Good morning Ray.” He sang as Ray went to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup.

He watched as Ray added a little sugar and a lot of cream before taking a long sip. “I could get used to this.” He chuckled and turned to smile in his general direction.

“Happy to help,” Reggie sang.

And he was, happy, so happy to help. He didn’t have any money, none of them did but he’d found ways of helping out that everyone seemed to really appreciate.

Especially Ray.

Reggie thought they owed him just as much as they owed Julie for letting them live here for free. Not to mention how he looked out for them all like they were part of the family.

He watched as Ray pulled a notepad off a pile of mail and slid it over toward where Reggie was near the dishwasher along with a pen. “Would you mind working on a grocery list while I start pancakes?”

He quickly wrote ‘no problem’ on the page he’d been doing math with Carlos on last night before flipping to a clean sheet and writing grocery list at the top.

Reggie moved around the room checking what they needed and adding to the list as Ray got out the pancake mix and started working on the batter.

“Are you boys eating today?” Ray asked as he poured the first pancake on the griddle.

They ate now.

Drinking juice and soda had come first but they started experimenting with food shortly after that. But much like sleep they didn’t need to eat as much as they did when they were alive.

Ray had ordered pizza for dinner last night and they had all had several slices, so he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry this morning and he doubted Alex was either.

But Luke might be hungry.

Out of the three of them, well the four of them counting Willie sometimes, Luke was sleeping and eating more than the rest of them.

He looked up at the ceiling guessing that’s where Luke had probably fallen asleep. He fell asleep in Julie’s room writing music more often than not the past couple of weeks.

He wrote quickly on a blank page. ‘Make a few more for Luke just in case’ and showed it to Ray. He chuckled and looked up at the ceiling shaking his head. Apparently, he knew where Luke most likely was too.

That was another cool thing about Ray. He trusted them as much as he trusted Julie as long as they kept being honest with him. Reggie would do anything to keep that trust. It was something he’d never had with an adult before.

“You’re probably right.” He turned to add a little more pancake mix to the bowl. “If you’re done with the list, you should probably go wake up Julie and Carlos for school… and Luke if he’s eating.”

“On it…” He sang and poofed upstairs to just outside Julie’s door and knocked softly.

He counted to thirty and knocked again. This time he heard some rustling before a very sleepy Julie opened the door.

“Morning Reggie,” She rasped before turning to go flop back on her bed face down.

“Your dad is making pancakes.” Reggie giggled at her dramatics and followed her inside noticing Luke still sleeping over in the pillow pile by the window. His guitar was lying across his chest like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of playing.

He lay back on the bed beside her. “What time did you fall asleep?”

“About one I think.” She turned her head to look at him through a curtain of hair.

Reggie brushed her curls back from her face and she smiled at him before glancing over at the still sleeping Luke. “Why is he so hard to say no to?”

“Don’t ask me.” He laughed. “I’ve never been able to tell him no either.”

They both turned to look at a drooling Luke fondly.

“Do you think he’s ok?” Julie whispered. Reggie turned back to see her looking at him worriedly. “He’s sleeping and eating so much more than you and Alex and it’s worrying me.”

“I think it’s you.” He tucked another wayward curl behind her ear. “He spends more time with you than we do.”

Julie hummed and scooted over to lay her head on his shoulder. ”Maybe you should hang out with us more so we can test out your theory. Maybe, it’s a good thing.”

“I think it’s a good thing Julie.” He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. “I hope so any way and I’d love to spend more time with you.”

“Me too,” A raspy voice said from the floor.

“Go back to sleep,” Julie and Reggie said in unison.

“Can’t,” Luke said laying his guitar on the floor, stretching and groaning loudly. “I smell pancakes.”

Both he and Julie took deep breaths too and he could definitely smell the cooking pancakes now. Ray probably had a nice stack ready.

He sighed and started to get up. “Better go get Carlos.”

Julie whined at the loss of her pillow as he pulled away, making him laugh. There was nothing more he’d like to do than cuddle with Julie a little while longer but she had school and he would not be the reason she was late.

“You gotta get ready anyway.” He laughed. “You know if you don’t get moving Carlos is going to beat you to the bathroom.”

“Ugh, stop with your logic.” She groaned. “I’m going.”

Reggie straightened up Julie’s bed for her as she gathered her things and headed toward the bathroom.

He picked a blanket up off the end of the bed and turned to Luke who was still sitting there watching him. “You need to go help Ray so Julie can have her room to get dressed.”

Luke grinned at him. “Yes boss.”

Reggie rolled his eyes. “Julie’s the boss.”

“Maybe I need two bosses.” Luke smirked.

Reggie threw the blanket over his head so Luke couldn’t see the blush he could feel creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

He wasn’t going to think too much about that right now he had things to do.

He heard Luke poof out without another word, hopefully to go help Ray, as he headed down the hall to Carlos’ room and knocked.

“Is that you Reggie?”

He gave another knock for ‘Yes’ just before Carlos opened the door with his phone pointed at him already talking.

“Say hello to my ghost friend all you ghost toasters out there!”

Reggie chuckled as Carlos paned up and down his blanket clad body which he was sure looked like it was floating in midair.

“Give us a wave ghost boy.”

Reggie held the blanket in his hand and waved but kept quiet.

He and Carlos had a deal, that’s why he’d showed up at his door in the blanket. He’d do ghost things on camera for Carlos’ me-tube channel but only if Carlos got ready for school on time and kept up his grades. 

“That’s it for today ghost toasters.” Carlos grinned at Reggie from behind the phone and he did a little shimmy for the camera, “Until next time!”

Carlos put the phone down and laughed. “That was awesome!”

“Your dad made pancakes.” Reggie sang after he pulled the blanket off his head.

“I can smell them!” Carlos took a deep breath and then ran through him and down the stairs.

“Hey!” Reggie yelled and shivered. He really wasn’t a fan of people walking through him. It was cool at first but now it just felt weird.

He could feel how hungry Carlos was and it was making him feel a little hungry too. Even if there weren’t any pancakes left there was always Pop tarts or cereal if he still felt hungry when he was done with his last official task of the morning.

Reggie poofed back into the studio and called quietly up to the loft. “Alex, are you awake? Julie and Carlos are leaving for school soon.”

He could have poofed directly in the loft but he’d interrupted Alex and Willie once and once had been enough for all of them.

Speaking of Willie, it was his head and not Alex’s that popped over the railing. “He’s still sleeping Reg.”

“Did you sleep any?” Reggie asked quietly.

Willie beamed down at him. “I did!” He whispered loudly, “A couple hours at least.

Reggie nodded. Willie had been hanging out with them more and more in the last couple of weeks and whatever was going on with him and the guys seemed to be affecting him too.

He really hoped it was a good thing.

“You should come to practice this afternoon.” Reggie grinned up at him.

He nodded. “I will.” Then he gestured back toward where Alex must be still sleeping and Reggie waved him away. He was so happy for Alex and they all really liked Willie.

Reggie checked Alex, and Willie, off his mental to do list and poofed back into the kitchen to see how things were going there.

Carlos must have inhaled his breakfast because there was a dirty plate in the sink and no Carlos at the table.

Julie and Luke were both still eating and talking quietly while Ray was cooking up the last of the batter.

“Reggie’s back dad,” Julie said smiling over at him.

“Oh, good,” Ray smiled in his general direction. “There’re a few extra pancakes if you want some.”

His stomach growled. Guess he was hungry.

“Thank you.” He sang as he fixed himself a plate and sat down at the table with Luke and Julie. Both of them were pretty much done but were still discussing practice this afternoon and what gigs they had coming up this weekend. Luke was taking notes in his ever present notebook.

Reggie ate quietly as they talked, just soaking in the them of it all.  Both Julie and Luke had said they wanted him around more and he was going to take them up on it even though a lot of the time it felt like he was intruding. They obviously had more than friendly feelings for each other but as far as he knew they hadn’t acted on them. Sometimes it felt like they were waiting for something…  

Ray interrupted the quiet conversation as he ate his own breakfast leaning on the island to remind Julie she needed to finish up and get ready to go in the next ten minutes. Then he put his plate in the sink and hurried up the stairs to get ready to go himself.

“Hey why don’t you go with Jules today Reg,” Luke said getting up and taking his and Julie’s plates to the sink.

He looked at Julie, who nodded as she got up to pack her school bag.

“Yeah, I’ll stay and clean up for a change.” Luke winked at him. “Ray already likes you more than me.”

“That sounds good to me too.” Julie grabbed her lunch from the fridge and gave Luke a pat on the shoulder as she passed. “Reg can help me study for my history test today.”

“Sure!” Reggie bounced up to go add his plate to the sink. He loved helping Julie study. It was the same stuff he’d learned when he was in high school. There were a lot of new things to learn after twenty-five years but what they taught in tenth grade history hadn’t seemed to change much.

“Yeah,” Luke laughed. “I’d rather do the dishes.”

“I know you would.” Julie giggled as Ray came back down the stairs with Carlos following close behind.

“Who would what?” Carlos asked, heading to the fridge to grab his lunch.

“Luke would rather do the dishes than help me study for my history test.”

“Me too,” Carlos groaned. “I hate history.”

“Honestly it wasn’t my favorite subject in school either,” Ray said as he poured himself a travel mug of coffee and Carlos finished packing his bag. “But it’s still something you should know.”

“Tell Carlos if he knows enough stuff, he could be on Jeopardy one day,” Reggie said giving Julie a wink. 

Julie laughed and relayed Reggie’s comment.

“Now that’s a good reason to study.” Carlos grinned before dashing out the door. “Shotgun!”

“Whatever works,” Ray shook his head and laughed. “Thanks Reggie.”

“Bye Luke,” Julie said as she picked up her bag.

Reggie gently took it out of her hands and put it over his own shoulder. “I got it.”

“Bye Jules, have a good day.” Luke waved a soapy hand at them. “Hurry back Reg I wanna show you and Alex what Julie and I came up with last night.”

“I will,” Reggie grinned back at him as they headed out the door, “Can’t wait to hear it.” Luke seemed to always have new music or lyrics to show them nearly every morning and Reggie didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing about it.

He hurried to the van and slid in beside Julie shutting the door behind him.

They got right to work going over Julie history notes as Ray and Carlos chatted in the front seat about Carlos’ baseball game coming up this weekend. Reggie was halfway listening to them as he quizzed Julie.

Ray was such a good dad offering to take Carlos to the park after school and pitch to him so he could practice hitting.

Reggie couldn’t remember his dad ever offering to do well… anything for him… ever.

Oh, yeah, he did offer to give him a reason to cry if he got upset but he was pretty sure that didn’t count.  

“You ok Reg?” Julie laid her hand on his arm.

“Sure,” he grinned.

“It’s just you asked me that question already.”

“Oh,” he looked down at the notebook in his hands. “Sorry, sorry, I got it…”

“Hey,” she squeezed his arm. “You know you can talk to me about anything right?”

He bit his lip and nodded glancing at the back of Ray’s head to see if he’d heard Julie but he was pulling into the drop off lane to let Carlos out, so he was probably distracted.

She leaned closer and whispered. “You’re wishing you could talk to my dad more aren’t you?”

He nodded and cut his eyes back to her feeling a little guilty. Julie was great, the guys were great and he loved them all but sometimes he just wished…

“You could write him a letter?” She shrugged. “I know it’s not the same as a conversation but it would be private and knowing my dad he’d definitely write you back.”

Ray pulled to a stop in front of the middle school and they all wished Carlos a good day as he practically fell out of the van to go catch up with his friends. It gave Reggie a moment to think about Julie’s idea.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted to say to Ray so maybe writing it out would help him figure out why he wanted to talk to him so much anyway.

“That’s a good idea,” he said quietly as Ray pulled back out onto the street and headed for the high school next door.

Julie grinned at him before digging around in her bag and pulling out a notebook. She pulled out a few pages and then handed it to him. “Here, this will get you started till I can get some more.” She chuckled. “I needed to get you and Alex notebooks to write music in anyway.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “Luke and I aren’t the only writers in the band.”

“Thank you Julie.” He felt himself blush. She was so amazing. He loved her as much as he loved Luke and Alex… some days maybe even a little bit more than that, like right now.

She grinned at him before pulling out a folder to put the ripped-out pages in. Reorganizing her book bag quickly as Ray pulled into the drop off lane at the high school.

“Ready for your test mija?” Ray looked at them, well Julie since he couldn’t see Reggie, in the rearview mirror.

She nodded and laughed. “With a tutor like Reggie I’m sure I’ll ace it.” She bumped his shoulder again and gave him a wink as her dad came to a stop in front of the high school.

“See you both later,” she said as she got out of the van. “Love you!”

Reggie felt a funny feeling in his chest as he watched Julie walk away. Kinda like the jolts that had almost killed them but not quite as murdery.

“You still here Reggie?” Ray asked as he pulled back into traffic.

He poofed into the passenger seat and knocked on the dash alerting Ray to his new location.

“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate all your help.” Ray glanced over in his general direction and smiled. “I know I joked this morning that I could get used to all this help but… it wasn’t really a joke.”

It was quiet for a moment so he gave a little knock on the dash to let Ray know he was still listening.

“Thanks.” He laughed. “It’s been hard with Rose gone and I thought…” he glanced toward him again. “I thought adding you all to the family would be hard.” He shook his head, “That it would be more than I could handle but…” He shook his head again. “Each one of you boys have been a blessing to this family, especially you Reggie.”

He wanted to say thank you but he couldn’t clear his throat enough to sing the words he was so choked up at what Ray had said. It meant so much that Ray appreciated his help.

He reached in the backseat and grabbed the notebook Julie had left him and a pen that was tucked between the seats.

He scribbled a large THANK YOU on the first blank page he got to and held it up for Ray to see while he was stopped at a light.

“You are very welcome, Reggie.” Ray chuckled as he reached for the radio switching it over to another station. “This is the channel Luke and I always listen to on the way back home.” Ray glanced toward him again as the light turned green. “He was very offended to know this is considered an oldies station.”

The end of Better Man by Pearl Jam reverberated through the vans speakers and Reggie grinned. It was so hard to believe this song was considered old now. It had come out less than a year before they died. They had all loved Pearl Jam and Green Day and Nirvana and so many other bands that hadn’t made it to the twenty-first century.

He watched as Ray tapped his fingers on the steering wheel keeping time to the beat.

It was even weirder to think if he’d lived he’d be way closer to Ray’s age than Julie’s.

Better man ended and the piano cords of another familiar song started to ring through the van.

“Come on Reggie,” Ray laughed and turned the radio up. “Rose always used to say Journey would be disappointed if we didn’t sing along.”

He stared at Ray as he started to sing.

Just a small time girl Living in a lonely world

He grinned and immediately joined in, knowing all the words by heart.

She took the midnight train going anywhere…

Ray wasn’t the best singer but he wasn’t terrible and the louder he sang the better he was.

Strangers, waiting Up and down the boulevard Their shadows searchin’ in the night

Reggie sang along with him, harmonizing when he could. Because that was always fun to figure out.

Some will win, some will lose Some are born to sing the blues

He remembered singing this song with his mom when he was a kid. Before she stopped singing, before she only yelled.

Streetlight, people Living just to find emotion Hiding somewhere in the night

Ray was grinning wider than he thought he’d ever seen him. Singing loud and off key, glancing at him every once in a while as they headed back to the house hitting green lights the whole way and Reggie felt this wave of happiness fill him up. When that famous chorus finally hit, he really let go, singing loud and proud and just so glad to be right here, right now, in the world.

Don’t stop believing Hold on to the feeling Streetlights, people oooohhhhhh!

Ray pulled back in the driveway just as the song finished and turned the car off. He was looking at him like he could actually see him.

Then he watched as Ray reached across the center console and laid his hand on his arm. 

It was warm and solid and not fazing through him… Reggie gasped, “Ray!?”

Ray was smiling so wide his cheeks must have hurt. “Guess we just needed to believe.”

Reggie laughed as the tears started to run down his face and Ray pulled him into a tight hug.

He never could have imagined when he woke up this morning and went through his usual routine of helping out it would end with him finally getting to hug Ray like he’d wanted to for so long now.

Maybe Julie wasn’t the only Molina with magic and even more miracles were waiting for them if they just believed. 

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 12 has arrived!

T.K. has never been more excited to get off a shift in his life. His skin is still buzzing with the heat of last night. The thought of Carlos, alone in his bed, T.K.’s name on his lips…He’d promised to be professional at work and he was. But god damn is he horny now.

They have a breakfast date scheduled for this morning and then T.K. is taking Carlos to his new favorite boba place after they eat because apparently Carlos, amazing human that he is, has a singular flaw in that he has never tried boba. T.K. can’t wait to watch him suck down some little snot balls. 

And then they’re going to go back to Carlos’ and T.K. is going to take him apart for hours. 

The thought of it makes him even hornier.

He pulls out his phone to call for an Uber as he grabs his backpack and heads for the parking lot. But he only makes it a few steps outside the bay before he spots a familiar head of curls. “Hey,” he says in surprise.

“Hey.” Carlos is leaning up against the firehouse’s facade, a wry smile on his lips. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” T.K. says. “I thought we were going to meet at the restaurant.”

“We were,” Carlos says, pushing off the wall and taking a few steps toward him. “I just didn’t want to wait that long to see you. Not after last night.”

T.K. bites his lip and grins. “You had a good time huh?”

Carlos looks down a little shyly. “Yeah I’ve um, I’ve never done that before. Not like that. It was…it was fun.”

“Yeah?” T.K. feels a bloom of pleasure in his chest. “Good. Sorry I couldn’t join you in person.”

“Me too,” Carlos says, taking another step forward. “It was really nice. But I’d much prefer to have you in bed with me.”

“Soon,” T.K. promises. “But first, you owe me breakfast. And boba.”

“Oh I owe you?”

“Hey, my phone sex services don’t come cheap,” T.K. says, grinning up at him. “I expect payment in full.”

“I think I can make that happen,” Carlos says. He glances around. “Can I kiss you here? Or would you rather wait until we’re somewhere more private?”

T.K.’s immediate reaction is to balk. Kissing at work seems like something boyfriends do. Not casual hookups.

But…he really, really wants to.

“Yeah, you can kiss me,” he says.

Carlos closes the distance, capturing his mouth. He tastes like coffee and a hint of cinnamon and T.K. forgets that they’re standing outside the fire station, fisting his hands into the front of Carlos’ shirt and opening his mouth to invite him in. God why does kissing him feel like being thrown into a whirlwind of color? How can one person make him feel like this?

Alex never did. Neither did his other New York hookups. No one has ever picked him up after work just because they missed him. No one has ever asked to kiss him. The others always took; Carlos always gives. 

It’s such a startling realization that he breaks the kiss and looks up at Carlos’ face. “I’m really glad you texted the wrong number,” he says.

“Me too,” Carlos replies, smiling. “Now, take me to your boba shop and teach me your ways.”

They get breakfast burritos from a place Carlos likes and then they chat outside in the sunshine sipping on boba, their feet brushing together under the table in a way that feels like they’ve been doing this for years instead of just a week or so. 

“So tell me more about your family,” T.K. says, slurping down another tapioca ball. “You have two sisters?”

“Yeah, Ana and Luisa,” Carlos says. “Ana is married, they’ve got two kids. And Luisa has been dating her boyfriend for like…I don’t know two years I think? They’ll probably get engaged soon.”

“And your parents?”

“Still live in the house I grew up in,” Carlos says. “My mom does a lot of volunteer work through their church. My dad is a Texas Ranger, I think I told you that.”

T.K. nods. “Is that something you’d want to do? Are you following in his footsteps?”

Carlos pulls a face. “Not really.”

“Why’d you become a cop then?”

There’s a moment of silence as Carlos considers his drink and T.K. wonders if he accidentally stepped into something. “You don’t have to—“

“No, I can talk about it,” Carlos says. “My dad um…we have kind of a weird relationship. It’s not like you and your dad. We’re not close. I think I became a cop to kind of prove to him that I could. That I’m not soft. I mean, also to help people. That’s the part of the job I really like. But deep down, I guess I wanted to prove to him and to me that I could.” He shrugs uncomfortably. “That sounds bad.”

“No it doesn’t,” T.K. says. “I get it. My dad’s entire world in New York was his firehouse. After 9/11 he went there and it was kind of like he never came home again. They were his family and if I wanted time with him, I had to become a part of it.”

“That must have been really hard,” Carlos says softly.

“God I know, what a cliché to have daddy issues,” T.K. says with a smile. “Like pick a more interesting reason to need therapy.”

Carlos sort of hums in response. 

“We’re good now though,” T.K. says. “Most of the time. We’re working on it. Not sure if living together helps or hurts, but things feel better now that we’re here.”

“And your mom?”

“I miss her,” T.K. says honestly. “I wish all the time that she was here. But she knew I needed to leave New York, and she didn’t let her own feelings get in the way of that. That’s love, you know?”

“Definitely,” Carlos agrees. “Although my mom would cry her eyes out every day if I moved across the country from her. Actually, she’d probably move with me,” he chuckles. “She’d house hop between mine and my sisters’.”

“Well I hope you’re not planning on moving anytime soon,” T.K. says. “That would really put a damper on what we’re doing here.”

“Nope,” Carlos says. “I’m here for the long haul.”

“Good,” T.K. says, that feeling of colorful hope spiking in his chest again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah. My place?”

“Actually, my dad is out at Judd’s ranch this afternoon. So my house is empty. If you want to?” T.K. asks, a little tentative for reasons he can’t quite put into words.

Carlos’ eyes light up. “I’d love to see your place.”

T.K. directs him through the traffic to his dad’s house. He’s nervous, even though he’s sort of been thinking about this since yesterday. Carlos hasn’t said anything about it being weird that he lives with his dad, but he knows it’s a little strange that after over a year he still hasn’t found a place to call his own.

He’s not even really sure what he’s waiting for.

“Oh,” T.K. says when they get to the front door. “I forgot. You don’t have a problem with dogs, right?”

“No.” Carlos shakes his head.

“Okay good. Buttercup is here. And he will probably attack you with love.”

He pushes open the door and sure enough Buttercup immediately appears, tail wagging, tongue slobbering as T.K. bends over and gives him some pets. “Buttercup, this is Carlos. Carlos, Buttercup,” he says.

“Hi Buttercup,” Carlos says, squatting down so that Buttercup has better access to him.

Buttercup gives him an experimental sniff and deems him good (Buttercup has never deemed a human bad in his entire life) and then proceeds to nearly push him on his ass in an aggressive bid for more pets. Carlos chuckles and takes it in stride, rubbing his ears and scratching under his chin, much to the fluffy dog’s delight.

T.K. lets Buttercup out the back door to wander around the yard for a bit after being cooped up inside all night, then turns back to Carlos. “So this is the kitchen,” he says. “It’s…a kitchen.”

Carlos laughs. “It is. A very nice kitchen.”

“Do you want something to drink? We have water, I think there’s some organic juice in here somewhere,” T.K. says, opening the fridge.

“I’m still good after that boba,” Carlos tells him. 

“Okay then I’ll take you on the rest of the tour.” He takes a few steps back. “This is the living room. We live in here.”

“Great,” Carlos says in amusement. 

“The bathroom is over here.” He opens the door to reveal the toilet and vanity. “And I think that’s about it.”

“Oh that’s it huh?” Carlos asks.

“Oh!” T.K. says. “My dad’s bedroom. Of course you want to see that.”

Carlos takes a step toward him. “Not really the bedroom I’m most interested in.”

“No?”

“No.” 

“Oh did you, did you want to see my bedroom?” He starts walking backward toward the staircase a coy smile on his face.

“Yeah, I think that might be nice,” Carlos says following him. 

“Mmm, come on then officer.”

He leads Carlos up the staircase and down the hall, pausing outside the first door. “You’re sure you don’t care about my dad’s bedroom?”

“Very,” Carlos confirms, a magical light sparkling in those brown eyes. T.K. has quickly learned that sparkle means some very delightfully bad things are about to happen to him. 

“Well then I guess…” he walks a few more feet and pushes open the door to his room, “we’ll just have to go in here instead.”

He’s barely through the door before Carlos is tackling him to the bed, cradling his body so the landing is soft. “Wow. You don’t even want to take a second to look at my decor choices?” T.K. teases.

“I’ll look later,” Carlos says, already working on the button of T.K.’s jeans. “Right now we are going to do every. single. thing you texted me about last night.”

“I was hoping we would.”

Carlos makes good on that promise and throws in a couple bonuses, much to T.K.’s delight. It’s ridiculous how much T.K. already craves the feeling of Carlos’ hands on his body, how he can’t get enough of his lips, the feel of his fingers, the softness of his mouth. He doesn’t think about anything else when they’re together, completely consumed by how good Carlos makes him feel. It’s overwhelming and a little scary, but somehow safe all at the same time.

When they’re both sated they redress and go downstairs to take Buttercup for a walk, then put on a movie while waiting for Chinese takeout to arrive. They talk and laugh as they sit on the couch with T.K.’s legs thrown over Carlos’, his hand resting comfortably on T.K.’s thigh and it feels like…it feels like home. 

“Nothing?!” T.K. asks incredulously when Carlos reveals he’s never watched a single Bravo TV show in his entire life. “Shahs of Sunset? Millionaire Matchmaker? Below Deck?!”

“No,” Carlos says dryly.

“Not even Real Housewives?!”

“I don’t get the hype. It’s just people with too much money behaving badly.”

“Babe! That’s why it’s fun!” T.K. cries. “No! No, we’re fixing this right now.”

He grabs the remote to scroll through the TV Guide as the front door opens. “Hello?” his dad’s voice calls out. “I’m home. Everybody decent?”

T.K. doesn’t miss the way Carlos immediately stiffens, something like panic crossing his face as he meets T.K.’s eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t think he’d be home for another hour,” T.K. says. 

“I can go,” Carlos says, shifting so that he and T.K. are no longer touching. 

“No, no, stay,” T.K. says. “He’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Hey, there you are,” Owen says as he rounds the corner and spots them. “Hi, you must be Carlos.”

Carlos stands up, almost too fast, and holds out a hand. “Captain Strand. Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice so formal that T.K. almost snorts. He’s so adorably professional.

“Oh please,” his dad scoffs. “You’re sitting on my couch in your socks. You can call me Owen.”

“Yes sir,” Carlos says and T.K. can tell from the look on his face that that won’t be happening anytime soon.

“We just ordered food, we’ll have extra if you want it,” T.K. says.

“No, no I won’t interrupt.” His dad waves a hand. “Judd had me on a horse most of the afternoon. I am in desperate need of a shower before I do anything else.” He looks at Carlos. “Are you planning to stay the night?”

“No,” Carlos says quickly, his eyes flitting nervously to T.K.’s. “No sir. Just for dinner.”

“Well don’t leave on my account. The walls in this house are thin but I just invested in a great pair of headphones.” 

He claps a hand on Carlos’ shoulder, a jovial, winning smile on his face. It’s meant to be friendly and reassuring, but Carlos looks terrified. 

“Enjoy your dinner!” his dad says as he heads for the stairs and then he pokes his head back around the corner. “Oh, T.K. I restocked the prophylactics yesterday. All sizes. Help yourselves!”

Carlos looks like he’s going to melt into the floor.

“Thanks Dad,” T.K. says, barely holding onto the hysterical laughter that’s bubbling up inside him.

His dad disappears for real this time and Carlos turns to him woodenly. “I think I should go.”

“No, no, no,” T.K. says, finally letting his laughter loose and grabbing for Carlos’ hand, pulling him back down onto the couch. “It’s fine. He doesn’t care. He knows I’m an adult. It’s not weird, I promise. We’re very open about sex in this house.”

Carlos still looks stiff and uncertain so T.K. tugs his hand to bring him closer. “Come here. Just relax.”

“I can’t relax,” Carlos grinds out, his eyes darting to the staircase. “Your dad is up there thinking we need prophylactics.”

“Well…we kind of do,” T.K. says with a grin. 

Carlos glares at him and T.K. rubs a hand soothingly up and down his arm. “Take a breath. Let the dulcet tones of the New York Housewives soothe your spirit.”

“Fine,” Carlos says. “But I am not having sex with you while your dad is in this house.”

“Fair,” T.K. says, even as he secretly vows to get Carlos to break that promise. 

Their dinner arrives and they enjoy it with only a few interruptions from his dad. Owen sneaks down the stairs to grab a water, then comes down again later to take Buttercup for his evening walk. He’s not as invasive as he could be, but it makes T.K. feel a little like a teenager hanging out with his boyfriend on a school night. In the future they will definitely only stay here when he’s absolutely sure that his dad won’t be around. 

All too soon Carlos is putting his shoes back on. “I don’t want you to go,” T.K. admits. 

“Well next time let’s do this at my place and you can stay over,” Carlos says as he finishes tying his laces. “I don’t have an entire drawer dedicated to condoms, but I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“You’re never going to let this go huh?” T.K. asks.

“Mmm, no,” Carlos says, his eyes bright with humor after having several hours to move past his embarrassment. He reaches for T.K.’s hand and rubs his thumb back and forth. “You um, you called me babe earlier.”

T.K. thinks back and feels a little thrill as he remembers the endearment coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t even thought about it, it had just happened. It felt right. It still feels right.“Oh yeah, I did,” he says. “Is that…okay?”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, his eyes all soft and warm. “I liked it.”

“Cool,” T.K. says, aware that he’s got a stupidly giddy smile on his face. What is it about Carlos that brings out this mushy side of him? 

“Should I pick a nickname for you?” Carlos asks, looking up at him through his lashes with those fakely innocent eyes he puts on when he wants to play. 

“T.K. already is a nickname,” he says in amusement.

“But that’s what everybody else calls you. I want something just for me.” He pretends to think. “Sweetheart? Babydoll? Darlin’?” He stretches the last one out in an exaggerated Texas drawl that he most certainly doesn’t have.

T.K. laughs. “Those are terrible.”

“Mi querido? Ooh, I know, mi cielo?” His voice drops low and he leans into T.K.’s neck, nipping at him with his teeth as he says it.

“Shut up,” T.K. chuckles, pushing him away. “You’re so gross.”

“You love it,” Carlos says with a grin, going in for a real kiss this time. “Tell your dad I said goodnight.”

“Should I ask him to restock the XL condoms for next time too?”

Now Carlos shoves him playfully. “Only if you never want to have sex with me again.”

“Message received.”  T.K. swallows hard and then grabs onto the bold courage that has been growing inside of him. “So if we’re hanging out at each other’s places and giving each other nicknames…some people would call that a relationship.”

“Would they now?” Carlos looks a little surprised, but not unhappy. “What would you call it?”

“I would…I would like to try calling it a relationship,” T.K. says, even though the words terrify him. Even though he’d sworn never again. “If that’s…something you’d be interested in.”

“A relationship. Like you’d be my boyfriend?” 

“Well I wouldn’t be your girlfriend,” T.K. says in a weak attempt at hiding his nerves.

“T.K. Strand. The hotshot firefighter from New York. My boyfriend.” Carlos gives a fake casual shrug. “That would be fine.”

T.K. rolls his eyes even as a smile blooms on his face. “Oh that would be fine?”

“Yeah that would be fine.” Carlos pulls him into a kiss that is not sweet and not chaste and definitely full of joy. T.K. expects swirls of bursting color, but when he pulls back and opens his eyes the color is just…there. Steady. Permanent. Like it’s here to stay.

“You know boyfriends usually stay over at each other’s places,” T.K. says.

“So I’ve heard,” Carlos says. His eyes flick to the staircase. “Do you want me to?”

T.K.’s heart melts. Two hours ago Carlos was about to bolt from this house in fear of his father and now he’s offering to stay over in spite of his discomfort.

“You know, I think it might be better if we go somewhere else,” T.K. says. “We’re very open about sex in this house but I’m not sure my dad needs to know everything we’re up to.”

“So…you’re coming home with me then?” Carlos asks, delight on his face.

“Yeah,” T.K. says. “I’m going home with you.”

[believesthings]

Not Just A Girl - Chapter 10 // Jason Sudeikis x Reader

Jason is singing in the shower and it echoes down the hallway to reach your ears in the kitchen. He’s trying to lure you in as a siren would a sailor. The water heating in the kettle, the ultimate promise of caffeine, helps to keep you grounded.

You scoop one foot underneath you when you sit at the kitchen table to scroll through messages on your phone. Will wants to know all about your trip. He is somewhere on the eastern seaboard back stateside and reminds you that there is ‘only’ a five hour time difference. In Poulter-speak that translates to: call me or else.

Todd had sent a few messages asking after your plans – then just requesting that you call him. You check the time. It is still a little early to be calling, even if the messages say ASAP. Brett, evidently still on London time – poor thing, has sent you a list of a few places to wander while waiting for Jason. Honestly you aren’t all that interested in sightseeing without having Jason there to share the moment but you’ll take Brett’s advice all the same.

You are just finishing pushing the plunger down on the French press when Jason enters the kitchen. He wraps you in his arms, careful not to interfere with your pouring of the hot liquid. “Hmm smells fantastic.”

You press yourself back into his body for a minute but your craving for caffeine ultimately draws your forward again to retrieve your mug from the counter top. Coffee in hand you settle back into the chair that you had claimed at the table. He remains standing, choosing to lean back against the counter near the sink. After a sip at his mug he tilts his head towards the coffee machine, his question silent.

“I found the press while searching for the packets for the coffee maker.” You shrug with your reply.

Jason eyes you and opens the cabinet just above the machine to reveal the needed supplies. You scowl. You could have sworn you looked there.

“You could have come to ask me.” He knows why you didn’t but voices the comment all the same. “What are your plans for the day?”

You swirl your coffee around in the mug. “Go to the park? Maybe window shop. I’ll figure something out to keep myself entertained. I do owe everyone back home a few calls, eventually. Todd was particularly adamant.”

“More news regarding the All Your Monsters sequel?”

Such an adorable fanboy. “You’ll know as soon as I know anything more about the project….. He’s probably just worried I’ll get lost wandering around London.” You look at your phone with a slight scowl before rolling your eyes.

Jason chuckles and checks his watch, setting him in motion again. “I second Todd on that. Please don’t get lost. I’ll keep you updated as best I can regarding the day. We could do lunch if you find yourself nearby when we break?” He waits until you nod before setting his mug down and patting his pockets. You can see the outline of his phone in his pocket and hear the jingle of his keys when he taps them. “Keys! You’ll need a key…” Jason hurtles from the kitchen leaving you blinking after him. You are about to stand to find out where he rocketed off to when he bounds back into the kitchen, stopping just short of you and squatting down to be closer to eye level with you. He presses a single shining key into your hand. “Glad I remembered where I’d stashed that.” He rests his hands on your knees while you examine the key, “The uh – lock sometimes sticks, just so you know.”

You nod, finally pulling your eyes away from the silver key and up to meet his gaze.

He puffs out a sigh, “I wish I could stay and have breakfast… among other things.” He leans forward to kiss you, sliding his hands up your thighs to your hips before disengaging and moving to stand again.

“Was that payback for not joining you in the shower?” You lick your lips after he stands fully. Your body is now humming with desire again. Damn you Sudeikis.

He shrugs mischievously and pats his pocket to indicate his phone while walking towards the door. “Let me know what Todd has to say.”

You wait a moment after you hear the door click shut before stirring from your seat. The bathroom still smells like his soap. You stand in the middle of the floor breathing in the scent, reticent to alter it to the smell of your own body wash and shampoo.

Jason had been wearing jeans and a light jacket so you pull out the only sweater you packed to ward off the early morning chill. Mindful of Todd'’s curious insistence for caution you set your ball cap and sunglasses next to your bag so you’ll remember to wear them while wandering today. You recheck the side pockets of your bag but still your bracelet doesn’t present itself. You’ll have to remember to see if Todd will look around your hotel room and double check your packed away belongings, just to settle your mind as to its whereabouts. Dressed and ready for the day you tap out messages to Will and Todd to let them know you are awake and they can call you whenever they would like.

Your phone nearly immediately buzzes but you ignore the text until you’ve made sure that the door to Jason's place is secured. You glance down and laugh aloud at Will's response.

That was not a phone call.

You are about to respond when his call comes through.

“You’re up early.”

“Jason had to get up to go in. You know how I am, once I’m up… Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You are trying to remember which direction you want to walk to get to the park. Jason had told you about his early morning walks so often you want to see what it is like there at this time of day.

There is chatter in the background as Will responds. “Haven’t gotten to bed yet – too many things to do and people to see. There’s time to nap before the panel.” You can hear him jostling the phone around. “And what you said just registered. Maybe I do need sleep after all… Jason had to get up… Your voice changes when you talk about him, you know.”

And now you’re fighting a fierce flush. You are caught mid-laugh when you glance to the side as you pass a magazine vendor and find several magazine featuring some sort of spin on The Battle of the Costars. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” The vendor looks up at your sharply and Will’s rambling stops when he hears you curse. You’ve stopped walking and step towards the magazines for a closer look, speaking softly into your phone and also apologizing to the vendor. “Sorry. Sorry, Will Sorry, sorry. I’m out walking and just…. I’ll share some details about the trip with you later but I need to…” You pick up one of the magazines at random, pay for it, and continue walking before you resume your rant. “Apparently since I was cast opposite Brett the media here has really been pushing a love triangle development between Jason, myself, and Brett That stupid Battle of the Costars article…”

“You know, I was Jason's costar at one point too - I'm a little offended that I'm not included.” Will's trying to make you laugh and distract you. His comment at least draws a little smile from you to dull the annoyance you’re feeling.

“Someone brought it up last night during drinks and he bristled a bit. He was all smiles, but you could see it in his eyes… But – God, Will, I don’t think he can go anywhere here without seeing it mentioned and I hate that for him.” You sigh and look down at the magazine in your hand.

The background noise is gone from Will’s end and you know that he has ducked away to have privacy to talk to you. “Maybe, maybe you shouldn’t even read it – the article. Just throw it away. You don’t need those voices in your head. Just be with him and enjoy the moment. You sounded so happy when you answered the phone - ah -  before the cursing.”

You don’t throw the magazine away but rather shove it down into the depths of your bag. You still plan on talking with Jason about it further, the short chat you had last night doesn’t begin to cover your frustration over the issue, but Will has a point. That's part of mindfulness, right? Staying away from Media first thing in the morning because it's like you're saying that other people's thoughts are more important than your own. You do your best to push your annoyance with the media aside in favor of the contentment you felt this morning – well – contentment wish a dash of lust because Jason was being a tease. 

“I was happy. I am happy. Just because a complete stranger puts something into print doesn’t mean it is true." 

"That’s my girl. So you’re out walking?" 

You’re still a few minutes from the park. "Yes. I thought I’d go see where Jason has mentioned that he likes to walk sometimes before grabbing something for breakfast." 

"And you’re where, again?” You relay to him the intersection you just passed. He takes a minute before recommending a few places to eat. It seems everyone has recommendations for what you should be doing during your visit. You ring off after promising to arrange a time see him once you were back stateside, and he was back in LA again, so that you can enjoy wandering through the park and taking photos of the scenery.  

After strolling around the park near Jason’s place, and adding more than a few photos to the growing collection on your phone, you make your way to one of the nearby cafés that Will recommended. You consume a light breakfast before wandering on towards the shops where Brett suggested you browse. It is convenient that there are shops dotting the streets between your current location and where Jason is working.

You mostly plan on window shopping and people watching to pass the time. The only thing that is really on your shopping list is something barely there and made of lace. Jason might not have complained but it is hard to feel sexy in yoga gear - or rather - being peeled out of yoga gear. While you wander, and while Jason is still waiting for his scenes, you exchange messages regarding the progression of the morning.

You have made the mistake of referring to the park where he walks as ‘his little park’, and he now refuses to refer to it as anything else. We’ll walk there tomorrow , maybe even run, f you’re up for it. You may not like MY LITTLE PARK so much then.

You tap back a response, while unable to decide between the variations of the lingerie you have sought out. We’ll walk/run there tomorrow if YOU are up for it. You are the one at work right now. I need your opinion. Blue, red, grey, black? 

His reply is quick:

All of the above? How does that relate to running? Or work? I’m lost, baby.

It doesn’t. Choose one please. Does it help if I further define the colors? Royal blue, cherry red, gunmetal grey, midnight black? You’d describe the lace patterns too but then that might give him too much of a hint and would take away the fun of keeping him guessing.

Not in the slightest. Context?

Oh just pick a color. “You’ll thank me later, Jase.” You murmur.

You huff at his next message. I stand by my answer until you give me more to go on.

Fine. When you are stubborn, this is what you get Jason… You arrange the lingerie side by side, snap a photo and send it to him. You’re starting to lean towards the gunmetal grey one – the pattern of the lace is slightly different than the others and the color looks nice against your skin. It is taking him a moment to respond… If he likes what he sees you’ll gladly reap the rewards once back at his place. That is, after all, the point of purchasing said item of clothing.

Jason's reply makes you laugh aloud which draws a few curious glances. Theo would like to know why I just spat my water all over him. My answer stands – all of the above. Of course now they’re giving us a five minute warning. While Theo dries out I need to go try to settle my mind again.

You are halfway through responding when you see a message from Todd. Out of meetings, finally. Call if you are able.

You finish your apology to Jason quickly, Sorry Jason! Sorry! Though I did try to keep you in the dark… Go get into character and I’ll get back to my shopping. Remembering that he had said that he didn’t think they would be finished by noon you add to your note. Will we be okay meeting at 1?

Yes. Meet me there. Silly to have you walk to meet me and then backtrack. You find yourself nodding in response, as though he can see you.

He may have said yes to all four of the colors, but you only have so much space in your suitcase. You are back to comparing each of the four when you dial Todd’s number. He sounds a bit hesitant in greeting you which makes you wince. “Todd? Don’t tell me that they’re asking me to come back already. I just got here….” And I really want to wear one of these – any of these – all of these – and see Jason’s reaction…

“What? No? No. Not that I’ve heard. Look…” When he has bad news he always slows down the tempo of his speech. You’ve learned to be wary of his carefully measured words. “Charlie and I have been talking and agree that it might be a good idea to look into personal security for you.”

You trace your fingertips over the lace patterns, “You know I’m not crazy about the idea of having someone babysitting me. Has something happened?”

He hems a bit and you hear the rustle of papers. Suddenly you find the image of the stack of hate mail that he had in his office appearing in your head. Maybe you were - thereby he was getting more? Oh wow – that thought makes your stomach clench.

“Just – I feel like a broken record here – be careful. You’re in the headlines now whether you want to admit it or not. You haven’t been telling people on set, or anybody there, exactly where you’ll be moving, right?”

Had you? You try to think back. “I – um – no? I don’t think so… Just that I’m excited about having my own place again? Oh, speaking of my own place and Charlie and the hotel… Can you possibly go by and see if I packed my silver bracelet in the bag I left in the room? You know the one –”

Mark cuts you off, “That your mother gave you. I’ll see what I can do. So now that we have the work part of the call behind us – how’s London?”

“A little chilly at the moment but I’ve got a jacket and…”

“And Jason.” He laughs.

You continue while ducking your head to hide your smile, “And a hat on. I’ll do my best not to get sick while I’m here.” You replace the blue and red pieces in their respective piles in the store’s display and scoop up the gunmetal and the black negligées to take to the register.  

“I’m sure Brett and the crew will greatly appreciate your efforts.” He is still laughing at you but is thankfully interrupted. “And there’s my call waiting. I wrote myself a note regarding the bracelet. Don’t worry. It will turn up. Have fun over there.”

For the remainder of the morning you return to your original plan of window shopping. You have to keep reminding yourself that your suitcase is fairly small and was pretty full on the trip over – not to mention the fact that you want to avoid a charge for extra weight if you can help it.

You’ve meandered your way towards the restaurant where Jason wanted to meet. The day has warmed up enough that you are able to remove your jacket and wait for his arrival while standing out on the sidewalk in the sunshine. 

A quick check of the time on your phone confirms what you suspect – Jason is running a little late. Really he should be staying on set during his lunch break, not meeting up with you. If you keep this up you’ll become known as 'the woman that distracts Jason from his work at every chance’. Even with the restaurant being in close proximity it adds costume changes and additional time in makeup and… You are about to call him to tell him not to worry about lunch - that you’ll see him at his place at the end of the day, when you see him appear around the corner of the building. Jason’s silhouette stands out in the crowd of people, at least to your eye.

You smile when you realize that he is hurrying. Is this a prelude to seeing him walk (or possible run) tomorrow? He may be running a few minutes late but that is no need to jog. You tilt your head to the side while watching his gait a little more closely. No.. that is closer to running. 

Your curiosity stifles your giggle as you watch Jason running up the sidewalk towards you – did your picture of your lingerie purchases inspire him to want to see you that badly? You start to lift your hand in both greeting and question when he spots you and starts making hand motions to you in return. His is not a wave of greeting but frantic motions for you to go in the restaurant. You see why momentarily.

Jason is being chased.

What is going on? You are supposed to be meeting Jason at a restaurant during his lunch break – how had that devolved into the chaos you see on the sidewalk? As a result of his full out sprint Jason has already nearly run the length of the building. You are looking past his frantic motions at the crowd of paparazzi that is trying to catch up to him. Really you should be turning to run but you are stuck, taking it all in. This is exactly why large groups make you nervous. The door to the restaurant swings open and the hostess pops out, drawing your attention away from the quickly approaching group. You are grateful that you had thought to check in with the hostess and tell her that you were going to wait on the sidewalk – she is talking hurriedly into her headset while waving her hand to signal that you can seek out shelter in the building.

Jason’s sharp bark brings your focus back to him as he slows his pace to close the final steps between the two of you. “Sweetheart. Get. Inside. Now!” You have time to spin to face the building before Jason reaches you, slightly out of breath. “Go – go – go. They’ll stop, I hope, at the door.”

You nod to the hostess, “Thanks.” She smiles and swings the door shut behind the three of you, motioning across the building towards the end of the bar where a woman is waiting. Pausing in the entryway you shift your bag more securely onto your shoulder, “Jason, are we staying here or…?” You can probably keep up with Jason, at least for a little while, if he chooses to just dash through the building and keep running. It’ll be more difficult with your bag to worry about but you’ll figure something out.

The fastest of those in pursuit reach the restaurant’s doorway moments after Jason grabs your hand and pulls you towards the manager moving the pair of you along the bar and into the mingling crowd in the restaurant. The first few to reach the door are hesitant as to the next course of action. Will they follow the pair of you inside or lie in wait on the sidewalk? Jason will have to emerge to go back to work at some point, after all. Patrons inside have noticed your grand entrance and pause in their dining to watch the events unfold, a few of them standing to get a better look.

“I suppose that depends on her.” Jason nods his head to the woman who is visibly bouncing while she waits for the pair of you to reach her. He has your hand firmly grasped with his so you keep your eyes on the door to watch the group on the sidewalk growing in size. With each additional member the confidence level of the group seems to grow.

You speak up when the first wave of people swing the door wide open only to be met by the hostess and a few of the waiters who have stopped their usual routines to stand in the entryway. “Um… Jason?” You give his hand a squeeze to get his attention.

The woman scowls at the group now pouring in the door. “Ugh. They’d better get appetizers, at least. Hello, I’m the manager here.”

“Sorry about this. We had intended on a quiet lunch but… Someone should arrive soon to pick us up. I managed to get a call out before all hell broke loose on the way here.” Jason is waving his free hand in circles while he talks to the manager. The motion of his arm draws your attention to the sleeve of his shirt which is pulled slightly out of shape. Wasn’t he wearing a jacket this morning? Hopefully he had chosen to leave it behind and wasn’t relieved of it on the way here. Poor Jason – what exactly had happened to him on the way to meet you?

The restaurant’s manager is surveying the efficiency of her staff as they react to the swell of people trying to gain entrance. The few already inside are searching the faces of the patrons closest to them, trying to pick the pair of you out of the crowd. They haven’t yet looked down the bar to spot you but if you remain in the unobstructed spot much longer it is inevitable that you’ll be discovered. “I’d offer you a table but we need to get things quieted down in here first. Should get you two out of sight. Only door that locks is the office but there’s no time to…” You are distracted by the noise level in the restaurant rising and the rest of her sentence is lost to you.

Jason takes a moment to pause and pull you around him so he stands between you and those in pursuit. Since you are no longer holding onto Jason’s hand to reassure yourself of his presence you focus on the pressure of his palm against your back. “Someplace else?” He looks around for inspiration, “Through the kitchen?”

“That group is not going to run through my kitchen! No… Should be able to make them think you ducked out the back and hide you… this way.” She spins and leads the pair of you down a hallway and once it turns you see that she has paused to push open a side door revealing the supplies room. “Not glamorous but, in you go.”

You briefly glimpse the large steel door that must lead to the outside world before stepping into the supplies room – closet, a more accurate word. It takes a second for your eyes to adjust to the lack of light once inside the small room. Aside from the cleared space to allow the door to open there isn’t much room to stand. As soon as the door shuts Jason leans his weight against it. In the gloom he looks as though he is preparing for a photo shoot rather than trying to make sure the door remains closed. You reach out to find his arm, then let your hand travel up to rest on his chest. You lean into him, feeling his heart still beating rapidly. He wraps his arm around you and talks softly into your hair after kissing the top of your head, “Are you alright?”

“I’m not the one that was chased here.” You shake your head and smile into the dark.

“This is not how I saw lunch going today.”

Oh Jason. You can hear the movements of the manager in the hallway. She is trying to sell the idea that the pair of you are making a run for it down the alleyway behind the restaurant. “This isn’t something you could have predicted.”

“It’s just that the food here is fantastic. I think you would have enjoyed…” Jason stops speaking when the sound of assorted squeals and shouts announce the arrival of those who are pursuit as they squeeze into the hallway. The door to the supplies room remains closed though you feel impact vibrations as jostling ensues in the hallway.

The restaurant manager is scolding the group and practically yelling to be heard over the group’s combined chattering. “Alright you lot chased them away.”

A few sound disheartened at the news. You hear the door hinge signal that someone has opened the door to the alleyway. Though it is muffled you can make out a conversation between two people on the other side of the door. “What? Did she say ‘them’?”

“Yea! Ohmigawd didn’t I tell you I thought I saw her on the sidewalk? C’mon, maybe…”

“No. No more running today. Please.”

The bickering fades as the manager does her best to clear out the more stubborn individuals in the crowd. Evidently a few haven’t fallen for the ruse or else are too winded to immediately move on. You can feel that Jason's pulse has finally resumed a normal pace. Once the noise of the group dies down you risk speaking again, though still keeping your voice low on the off chance that there are still a few of the search party seeking you out in the hallway. “Did they chase you the whole way here?”

From now on you need to make it a point to be leaning against him when he chuckles. “Hmm. No, not the whole way, but once one started to run the rest did. After that I was just trying to stay ahead of them.”

You lean back to look at him and pinch a bit of his shirt between your fingers to tug on it, “They caught you at some point, I think?”

He grins down at you, “Only for a moment.”

You both freeze and fall silent when you hear tapping on the door but relax when you hear the manager’s voice. “Sorry that took so long. Most of them are back out on the sidewalk.” You sidestep Jason to squeeze back out into the brightness of the hallway. She is shaking her head while sizing the pair of you up. “Should have seen them sprinting off down the alley. If you’d like we can go back out and seat you at the bar? I owe you for stuffing you in with the mops.”

He has already pulled out his phone and is typing out a message. “The where doesn’t matter. Thank you for providing us shelter. Let me see how close they are.”

“Even if they insist on Jason riding back I might stay – he said your food is fantastic and frankly I’m starving.” You smile over at Jason has paused typing out his message to give you a stern look. “What?”

“When I go, you go.”

The manager is leading the way back through the hallway. “And what, ask nicely if they’ll drop me off at your place?”

“Of course not. You’ll come back to the set with me.” He glances down at his phone before addressing the manager while she points out two seats at the end of the bar. “They’ll be here soon to pick us up out front. I do want her to try your food while she’s in London. Can I make a reservation for tomorrow?”

She nods. “Yes, but you’ll not have to wait till tomorrow for a taste of our food. You’ll not be leaving here empty handed. I’ll get a sampler bagged as quickly as possible.”

Things have settled back down in the restaurant though you note that a few people nearby noticed your quiet re-entrance to the room. A few diners are taking photos with their phones but nobody comes over to interact with the pair of you. Those waiting outside on the sidewalk probably won’t give you as much consideration. Rather than worry about that now you continue to try to talk Jason out of his stubbornness. “I’ll only be in the way if I go back with you.” You shake your head, “I’ll ride with you back to set if you insist on leaving here together. And, and then I’ll get a cab to your place.”

From the look on his face this is clearly not a discussion where you will end up getting your way. “You won’t be in the way. Besides, if you’re on set I’ll know you’re alright.”

Visiting while they were still in pre-production was one thing but during filming? “At least call and get approval.” He won’t have any choice but to let you go back to his place if they deny his request.

Before he can place the call his phone starts to ring. He nods towards the door after looking at the incoming number. “They’re here.” While he talks on the phone you stand and assess the crowd again. Before you can lean to scoop up your bag Jason has picked it up and slings it over his own shoulder. While you are winding your way through the patrons towards the door someone hurries out of the kitchen holding your bag of food. Hopefully they’ll let you eat in the car. Even with your nerves making your stomach do flips you find that you really are quite hungry. That’s what you get for eating such a light breakfast this morning.

You take a moment to thank both the hostess and the manager again. Bless them for being so quick to react to the situation as it happened. A two man security team has cleared the path between the car and the restaurant door. One takes the bag of food and nods to Jason while the other takes up his position next to you.

Jason wraps his arm protectively over your shoulder while the guard on your right gives instructions. "Just walk straight to the car. Don’t stop. I’ll get the door. get in and slide across so Jason can sit. We’ll be outta here before you know it.” 

Jason is grinning at you triumphantly from the other side of the expansive backseat of the car. The powers-that-be had said yes to his request that you spend the rest of the day on set. Of course they had said yes to him. Jason's breaks were also restricted to the location now to prevent any further incidents but he was choosing to overlook that detail to focus on the fact that he would have you in close proximity for the rest of the day. Now you just had to figure out what to do with yourself so you would be out of the way while everyone around you was working.

Traffic and one way streets are making the ride back to the location a bit longer than you would have guessed since Jason had been able to walk the distance. While munching on the contents of one of the numerous takeaway boxes Jason is pointing out the route he took to both you and the security team. “It bottlenecks just there – and that’s where I got tangled up.”

You reach into the open takeaway box in his lap and pluck out another something to eat. You wave the food at him while you playfully scold him, “You should have just circled back at that point.” Two grunts of approval from the front seat support your statement. You catch the eye and smile at the guard that isn’t driving when he looks in the rearview mirror. Other than the brief instructions they gave you in the restaurant they’ve been quiet. Jason takes advantage of your distraction to ensnare your hand and bring the food in your fingertips to his mouth. “Hey!”

He doesn’t release your hand while he chews. “I was already running late.” He pauses to draw your fingers back to his mouth to suck away some of the sauce that had remained on your fingertips. “Besides, I knew you were waiting for me, there was only one direction my feet would agree to.”

You want to continue arguing your point but your words appear to be caught in your throat. It’s the eye contact while his mouth removes the sauce from your fingertips that has done it. The noise you make is half delight, half squeak.

Damn it Jason, there are other people in the car. He winks at you while releasing your hand. Smug, adorable, tease of a man – he is using any means necessary to keep from admitting that you are right. Before he can catch your hand again you scoop up another piece of food and pop it into your mouth which incidentally gives you time to loosen your voice once more. There are untouched boxes in the bag that sit in the floorboard between you and him.. “If these are what she considers a quickly packed sampler I can’t wait to see the full menu.”

He nods while his eyes search your face. “I hoped you would like the food. Though by making reservations for dinner tomorrow we may have limited our sightseeing plans.”

“I thought we’d figured this out already.” Jason's look of confusion makes you giggle. “Another trip?” The car is slowing to pull into the parking lot, trying to gently push past the gathered crowd waiting on the street beyond. Days on the set of All Your Monsters were nothing like this. “Oh wow – there are so many people. I’m surprised you even made it out through this.”

Now Jason has turned to look at the numerous fans as well. “I um, I didn’t use this entrance.”

You hear the driver mutter something under his breath and the other guard nods before turning in his seat to address the both of you. “Most of them have been here since Jason got here this morning. Ok. Just so we’re all on the same page…” He stops because the both of you haven’t turned back to look at him. He lets out a sigh, “You want to greet them don’t you.”

Jason is still looking at the crowd. “They’ve been out there a long time.”

“Jason do I need to remind you -" He stops and looks at you, "help me out here.”

You are watching Jason look out at the gathering. His internal struggle is evident. After being chased a number of blocks he is wary but still hating the idea that he is disappointing his fans. When Jason turns to look at you you give him a small nod of understanding before turning to reply to the guard. “Yes, we want to greet them.”

You are graced with a brief frown from the security guard before he turns back in his seat. Clearly he thought you would support him since you had just been vocal about your feelings about Jason's safety. This is different, you reason. The situation is more controlled and there are numerous security guards to help keep things from devolving. Before getting out of the now parked car the guard shakes his head at the driver and shrugs. “Alright. It’s your food that is getting cold. The two of you stay between us. If one of us says it is time to go, it is time to go.”

Jason has already closed the lid on the takeaway container and is pushing it back into the bag with the others. “Just a quick hello.” He promises. Somehow he ends up with your bag and you end up with the food. Holding the food is fine with you. You are only here visiting, this is his moment, not yours. You even try a few times to take a side-step away to allow him to focus his attention more thoroughly on the fans but each time he wrangles you back in. Finally he wraps his arm around you and pulls you close to whisper into your ear, “Stop that. You’re making me paranoid. Did I sweat that much during the run? Do I need a shower?”

“What? No. You smell…” you pause to inhale and oh, you really shouldn’t have done that. Your brain offers up – delicious. No – that’s the scent of the food still lingering on his clothes. No – that’s your sex drive offering up less than helpful thoughts as a result of his sucking at your fingers earlier. You bite your lip, searching for a word that doesn’t further your frustration. “Errr – fine. You smell fine. You smell like you.” Mmmm but he mentioned showering and your brain careens to thoughts of his request this morning that you shower with him. And now you have the rest of the day to sit and stew while he works. You wink and offer up a teasing smile, “Ask me again later and I might help you wash away the day.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise at the comment and he turns to fully face you. The security guard clears his throat to interrupt the moment. “Jason. They’re calling for you in wardrobe.”

You watch his shoulders rise and fall with an exaggerated inhale and exhale of breath. You lick your lips. Oh dear, did you break him? The guard shifts, unsure what to do since Jason hasn’t indicated that he heard. Jason expels another breath before he turns his head to nod at the guard. As he waves goodbye to his fans and walks with you towards the building he mutters to you. “I knew I was in trouble when you were biting your lip but….” He doesn’t finish the sentence with words but with a slow shake of his head as he pulls you closer.

Rather than take up some of the limited space in Jason's dressing room, and torturing yourself by watching him change, you choose to wait for him to settle in for makeup. It is difficult to judge where you will be the most out of the way – at home is the correct response, but Jason refused to see reason on that point. You end up sitting atop the counters that line the wall directly opposite of the giant mirrors and work stations for the makeup artists. With your legs crossed up into a half lotus and the bag of takeaway boxes on the counter next to you, this is just about as out of the way as you can manage. A few of the Jason’s costars arrive for touch ups, curious as to your presence but too focused on the job to pry in depth before they leave the room again. You are still working on sampling the various takeaway boxes when Jason appears. He scans the room once and upon spotting you beelines in your direction while chuckling at your location.

“Well that didn’t take long.” You are surprised by the costume, parts of it are soiled and torn. Apparently they are already filming the fight sequences that he and Theo were learning techniques for back in LA a few weeks ago. Jason gives you a quick peck on the cheek and accepts the proffered takeaway container from you before wandering to his seat to allow the makeup artists to get to work. “I haven’t seen or heard Theo yet. Is he the one to have done that?” Dear Lord just seeing him in costume is making your brain want to make the time jump with him. You motion to your own shoulder to indicate the rip you see on his corresponding sleeve.

Jason is watching you in the mirror now that he is seated in the makeup chair. “Mmm I’ll remember to scold him. He’s off pouting that I will once again win the fight."

It is amazing the magic that can be worked with a little bit of prosthetic, skill, and patience. When Jason holds his shirt open you see that a wound has already been replicated and applied to his bicep. You hadn’t noticed that with all the excitement earlier. You don’t have a good vantage point to view the condition of the prosthesis, but the two makeup artists tut at Jason, saying the prosthetic is peeling up in a few places. He doesn’t counter with an explanation as to why, only apologizes for being careless with their work. It just takes a second to repair but they seem to enjoy reprimanding him. He doesn’t have to sit long before they declare him finished – the parts of his shoulder and arm that are visible through the tear in his shirt now bloodied and a small prosthetic applied along his forearm. His exposed skin has been dressed to match the condition of his soiled clothing. You had tried to hold your tongue and remain seated throughout the process but found yourself unable to contain your thoughts. Most men clean up nicely – Jason, you muse, has the ability to look good even coated in grime.

This crew, bless them, seem to have endless patience with your continued presence. You have ended up standing just off to the side of Jason’s left knee to watch the final touches being added to the area on his forearm. If you hadn’t just watched them apply it to his skin you would be panicked and searching for gauze and a compress. He stretches his arms out wide to test the movement of the newly applied piece until both he and the artists are satisfied.

Time for work now. He cocks his head to one side to ask, “A kiss for luck?”

He has spades of talent, like he needs luck on his side. You roll your eyes and lean in to kiss him. You pause though, backtracking quickly just before your hand would have made contact with his neck for balance. The face Jason makes at your motions draws laughter from the makeup artists still lingering at their work stations. You are looking to them to make sure you won’t mess up their carefully applied work. “Is it safe?” You resume the action once you are given the go ahead.

Even after receiving his kissJason is still playfully petulant. He tries to pull you into his lap but you manage to escape his grasp. “Come here. I’m supposed to look giddy and disheveled.”

“Giddy and disheveled and covered in dirt and blood. They worked hard to get you that way.” You nod towards his two makeup artists who are trying to reset their stations while also enjoying the entertainment that you and Jason are providing. “Let’s keep in on the appropriate surface then, ok? You, not me.”

Since no other actors have arrived to have their makeup applied or touched up you stay behind after Jason leaves and talk with the crew members about their work. Jason had finished off the last of the one open takeaway box but there are still a few in the bag that remain unopened. You leave one box with the makeup artists and get directions to the craft services area to leave the remaining containers with the intent of sharing the wonderful food with the rest of the crew.

Now the question is what to do with the rest of the day to keep busy while Jason is working. He had taken your bag with him when he went to his dressing room. You can probably find your way back there and mess about on your phone, maybe listen to some music… There are probably also more than a few messages that you need to respond to. You pass back by makeup and then stumble upon wardrobe.

Whatever messages you need to review can wait, the costumes for this project are stunning. You engage yourself in conversation with those working at the moment, prompting for details about each piece when they have time. You spot the clothing designed for Jason even before noticing the label near the rack or having it pointed out to you. There are several copies of the shirt that Jason is currently wearing with varying degrees of wear and tear to them. Are these from scenes he has already shot or in preparation for future events? You’ve ended up settling next to one of the guys carefully repairing a ripped seam. He continues his work while he talks with you, quickly moving through the repairs he needs to make.  

The conversation is interrupted by the muted chatter you can barely hear coming through the headset of your current companion. He lets out a laugh and pauses in his work to amble over to the set of clothing marked as belonging to Peter. “They’ve torn another of Theo’s shirts. They’re keeping me busy, at least. I hope they don’t damage any more of them past repair or I’ll be needing to make a run to buy more of them.” He drapes the shirt over his shoulder and motions for you to accompany him, “Convince your boyfriend to go easy on the costumes, yea?”  

There are a fair few people milling about when you reach the set, more than you would consider normal. You soon see why. Theo is shirtless and sweating from exertion as a result of the action sequence, his trousers having numerous gashes and smears of fake blood as well. No wonder there are so many people standing around, he is just as well-toned as Jason. He dabs away at the sweat carefully before accepting the proffered shirt, exchanging it for the torn one. He spots you among the group and gives you a small wave but you hang back, not wanting to interrupt the momentum they’ve built. You give your head a small shake when he tilts his towards Jason, who has his back turned towards you while he is discussing the scene with the director.

Once Theo is back in costume and everyone is reset they start shooting the scene again. You aren’t quite prepared for the way the pair of them throw themselves into their fight. Your breath catches with each lunge. They know the routine well and they are being supervised yet your stomach still clenches with the vehemence of the strikes. One blow sends Theo’s weapon clattering away across the floor, the next leaves him sprawled out and beaten at Jason’s feet. Jason still hasn’t spotted you, even when he turns to walk towards the camera where one of his female costars is positioned.

The sequence ends and everyone starts to move about again to reset while Jason helps Theo back up off the floor. Jason hasn’t relayed the full plot to you so you are studying the nuances of the scene trying to figure out the context of the fight between the two men. Was it a love triangle? Which was fighting to protect her? Had either of them told you which was the hero and which was the villain?

You’re tempting fate, continuing to stand here to watch them during filming but you can’t seem to force your feet to carry you away. With much hesitation you make it a few steps away from the group and that much closer to the door when the director’s words make you pause. “Good. Good. Once more. This time, Jason, revel in your victory over Theo a bit after you’ve thrown him down before turning to continue on to your confrontation with Ava.”

Well you’ve no choice now but to stay and see what Jason does. You’ve moved just enough that you are viewing the sequence from a different angle, pretty much from the vantage point of the camera. Both men are probably going to be exhausted with the way they are throwing themselves into the action. Jason will probably fall right into bed tonight he is pushing so hard. The lingerie will have to wait – no horseplay tonight – though maybe you can sweet talk him into letting you give him a massage.

You are pulled from your thoughts when Jason once again throws Theo to the floor. You’ve seen so much of Jason’s work, the wide range of emotions that he can call forth, and yet the sound he lets loose in conjunction with the way he contorts his face… When he screams, when he screams you can feel it. He is still breathing heavily when he turns away from Theo, still sprawled on the floor, to face the camera and approach it, and Ava.

His expression changes as he sees her, and then his gaze slips past her, beyond the camera, to you. 

Tag list: @my-soupy-brain @tegan8314 @tortilla-maria1 @nerdgirljen @cavillsim @superloveeverything

[peachy-panic]

Two Way Street

Part of Do No Harm. Takes place after this chapter. 

WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-Adjacent, lots of talk around food, references to past noncon, fear of future noncon, trust issues

Sebastian knocks twice, waiting for an affirmative sound on the other side before opening the bedroom door. He nudges it with his hip—a little too hard, accidentally—and has to catch it with his foot before it hits the wall. Somehow, he just manages to keep the two plates balanced in his hands and shoots Jaime a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he says. “I made breakfast. Um. Well, I guess it’s brunch, now. Sorry about that. Do you like egg sandwiches?”

Jaime looks up at him from where he sits against his bed—on the floor instead of the mattress itself, and Sebastian wonders if he should add another talk about the furniture allowances to his list. One crisis at a time.

“Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

Jaime starts to shake his head, then pinches his eyes shut and clears his throat. “No. I don’t mind.”

He sinks down onto the floor beside him and hands Jaime a plate. Jaime seems to watch him for a cue, waiting until Sebastian has taken his first bite before allowing himself to pick his sandwich up, but at least he doesn’t wait for explicit permission. That’s a small win.

Sebastian allows himself a few seconds of stalling as he chews his first bite. “We don’t have to talk about what happened in the kitchen,” he says once he swallows. “If you want to unpack it, I’m more than happy to listen, but you should know I’m not expecting an explanation out of you. You don’t owe me or anyone else that.”

Jaime takes another small bite, and Sebastian takes some small comfort in watching it happen, seeing at least one of his needs met.

“That said, I do feel like I owe you some words. First of all, I’m not upset with you. Not even a little. The glass is cleaned up, brunch is served, you never have to think about it again. Not on my account, anyway.”

They mirror a halfhearted smile at each other, like they both know how unlikely that is.

“Second,” Sebastian says, and then takes a deep breath because he wants this to come out right. “I’m not really picky when it comes to food. Or coffee. Especially coffee. Oat milk and sugar if it’s there, but you could also probably put raw coffee beans in a cup of room temperature water and I’d drink it in a pinch.”

This earns a slow blink, which… yeah, fair. Sebastian keeps talking.

“I usually keep the breakfast staples around the house—eggs, bread, cereal, milk—and you really can’t go wrong with most combinations derived from that, but most of the time, especially during the work week, I end up running out of time for anything more than a granola bar on the way out the door.”

He pauses long enough to swallow another bite of his sandwich and give Jaime time to process.

“So now you know what I like. And what about you?”

Jaime freezes with his sandwich halfway to his mouth. A glob of melted cheese splashes down onto his plate. “About me?”

Sebastian nods. “I understand that it might make you feel more comfortable to have something productive to do. To help out.” He leans into the comfort of Ezra’s words on the phone, trusting them to be true. Feeling useful is going to be the one safety net he has at first. You shouldn’t take that away from him completely, even with the best of intentions.

“So,” he continues. “If you happen to wake up before me, like today, and feeling productive for you means making something in the kitchen, I’m not going to be mad if you pour me an extra cup. But that comes with a few caveats.”

That seems to be the part Jaime was expecting. His shoulders stiffen slightly and he looks directly into Sebastian’s eyes, signaling that he is listening.

“One,” Sebastian ticks off on his fingers, “is that you try your best to remember that this is not an obligation you have to fulfill. There’s no pressure. That’s the most important. Two, if you’re making something for me, I want it to be because you’re already making something for yourself. If I’m enjoying the fruits of your labor, so are you. And three is that I am allowed to make things for you sometimes, too. Or that we make things together. I think this should be a two way street.”

Jaime nods, holding his gaze for a few more seconds before dropping it to the sandwich in his lap. His thin fingers tear off a corner of the bread, popping it into his mouth. Sebastian tries not to watch his expression too intently as Jaime chews. Finally, he swallows and opens his mouth, closes it briefly, then opens it again.

“I like milk and sugar?” he says quietly. “I’ve never tried oat milk, but I’d probably like it. I’m not picky about food either. I like… this.” He gestures to his half-eaten sandwich. “This is good.”

A smile pulls at Sebastian’s mouth. “Thank you,” he says, and he means it for more than the compliment. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

-- -- --

Jaime can tell the conversation isn’t over, and he can read the tension in Sebastian’s posture that makes his own muscles coil in anticipation.

“There is one more thing I wanted to run by you,” Sebastian says finally. “And, to preface, this doesn’t need to be anything immediate. Just something that might be good for both of us going forward.”

Jaime nods, because he can see Sebastian is waiting for his response to go on.

“I have… a friend,” Sebastian says. “I don’t want to say too much right away, because it isn’t my story to tell. But he’d like to meet you, when you’re ready, and I think it would be a good idea, too.”

And Jaime feels something in his stomach go tight and cold. He pulls a slow, deep breath in through his nose, fighting to keep his eyes steady on Sebastian and reminding himself, over and over, that Sebastian isn’t Mr. Torley. He isn’t him. But Jaime can suddenly smell his friend’s cologne so clearly, can feel the cold bathroom tile under his bare feet and under his knees, and remembers exactly what it feels like to be introduced to a Keeper’s friend.

“He’s a really nice guy,” Sebastian continues, apparently unaware of Jaime’s budding panic. “I promise, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near you if I didn’t believe that completely. He actually… Well, he knows Aria—From the clinic, remember? That’s how I met him.”

A really nice guy. Jaime had met a lot of those. He thought Thomas was a really nice guy for the first couple hours of knowing him. He thought Bryan was a nice guy. The occasional facility worker. The man from the bar.

Nice guys wait until no one is looking. Nice guys press your back against the bathroom door and tell you, “I hope he doesn’t treat you too badly,” and “I wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble,” and “you have to know what you look like.”

Jaime must not be concealing his panic very well anymore, because there is a familiar crease growing between Sebastian’s brows that means he is watching Jaime like he might fall apart at any moment. Again.

“Like I said,” Sebastian reiterates quickly, “it’s not anything pressing. I know… I mean, I can only imagine how difficult it must be to settle into a new place like this. We probably shouldn’t even talk about this seriously for a couple weeks at least. One thing at a time, okay?”

Jaime swallows and forces himself to smile back at him, even though the half-sandwich in his stomach has turned to stone.

“Okay.”

-- -- --

The evening finds them on the living room couch—the couch this time, and not the floor, which Sebastian counts as a small win. A laugh track for some show Sebastian had seen reruns of a hundred times drones in the background, but he gets the feeling neither one of them are paying attention.

They had spent the day performing a carefully choreographed dance of staying out of each other’s way in the most polite way possible. Fun as that was, Sebastian knows it’s not a sustainable way to play this contract out. He’s mentally exhausted and knows that it’s only a fraction of what Jaime must be feeling, but he’s trying to cut himself some slack. It’s only the first full day, he reminds himself. They have six months of room to improve from here.

Sebastian goes back to work tomorrow. He hopes it’s not selfish of him to think a little breathing room might benefit both of them. As difficult a time Jaime is having getting settled in the house, Sebastian’s hovering is almost definitely making it worse.

The sound of a stomach growling breaks through his haze of stress-thoughts. Sebastian puts a hand to his stomach on instinct before realizing the noise didn’t come from him. He casts a look at a sheepish Jaime, who is clutching both arms over his stomach with reddening cheeks.

He casts a glance at the clock and feels a surge of unhelpful guilt. He had lost track of time in his own stress.

“I don’t know about you,” he says, trying for nonchalance as he stretches up into a yawn, “but I am starving. Think you could eat?”

Jaime hesitates, then nods.

An idea occurs to Sebastian, and he latches on with both hands. “Wanna try that cooking together thing we talked about earlier?”

This seems to be something Jaime can latch onto as well, much to Sebastian’s relief. He sits up, some of the hesitance draining from his expression. For a moment, Sebastian thinks about offering him a hand up from the couch, then thinks better of it and keeps his hands at his side. He smiles instead, and it feels a little easier on his face this time.

“Come on,” he says, and leads them into the kitchen.

It’s a bit of an awkward dance, at first. Sebastian is coming to accept that that’s just the way things will probably be for a while, and he has to be okay with that. Ezra was right though; the tension seemed to lessen between them when they both had something to do with their hands.

“Sorry if the ingredients are a little sparse,” Sebastian says as he cuts up a raw chicken breast. Jaime is across the island counter, dicing an onion with expertly quick hands. “I stocked up on the essentials before you came, but I thought it might be a good idea for us to make a grocery list together.”

Jaime sections off a fresh pile of onion and swipes the papery outer layer into the trash bin. “I can help you make a list,” he affirms.

“Cool. Maybe we can do that over dinner.”

They—well, mostly Sebastian with a few terse nods of input from Jaime—decided on pasta. It’s fast and easy and difficult to fuck up in any significant way. There is leftover pizza from the night before in the fridge, but Sebastian already promised himself he wouldn’t subject Jaime to the diet of a sad bachelor just because that’s what he’s used to himself.

Although, it’s worth noting that Sebastian has done better for himself recently. And he has Jaime to thank for that.

“You want to know something?” he says, turning to the sink to wash the chicken juice off his hands. “I was never much of a cook until recently. I never really had a reason to be. Cooking full meals for one feels kind of depressing. It wasn’t until we started having lunch together in the clinic that I even felt the need to keep groceries stocked in the kitchen.”

The sink is positioned so that Sebastian is angled slightly away, so he only catches a glimpse of Jaime’s reaction. There’s a half-second pause in the movement of his knife before he continues seamlessly. In the reflection of the window in front of him, Sebastian can almost convince himself he sees a small smile.

His eyes land on his phone when he reaches for the hand towel. The mention of their time in the clinic together sparks a memory.

“Do you mind if I put on some music?” he asks. “I like to have something to listen to while I work.”

He remembers peering through the office door to find Jaime’s finger tapping along with the beat of some song playing from Sebastian’s cheap speakers. He remembers thinking it was the first time he’d ever seen Jaime look content.

“Any requests?” Sebastian asks as he thumbs through his playlists.

Jaime’s knife pauses again, just for a second. “I liked what you used to play in your office. At the clinic,” he says before resuming his work. “But I’m fine with whatever you like.”

He tries to match Jaime’s casual tone when he says, “Cool,” but he can barely contain his elation at finally getting something right.

Sebastian hits play on his favorite chore playlist and lets the music soften the space between them.

There is less pressure to fill the silence when there isn’t any. Sebastian takes advantage of that for a while and lets the two of them work in tandem without speaking more than what is necessary to pass the next ingredient. He sneaks a few looks in Jaime’s direction and doesn’t think he’s imagining the way the tension seems to lessen in his shoulders as the minutes go on.

When it’s time to combine the ingredients for the sauce, Jaime takes the helm at the stove almost instinctively. He seems content to be there, so Sebastian doesn’t argue. Instead, he backs himself against the adjacent counter and hoists himself onto it. “You’re a natural,” he observes, watching Jaime fold the vegetables into the simmering pan of chicken.

Jaime flashes a quick look in his direction, not quite meeting his eyes. “I like cooking.”

“Yeah?”

He shrugs, then nods.

“Well. You’re good at it.” Sebastian stops, hesitates, then decides to take a chance. “Anything else you like to do?”

The wooden spoon never stops moving against the bottom of the pan, but there is a slight shift in Jaime’s posture that makes Sebastian regret shattering the fragile moment. He wants to take it back, but before he can, Jaime speaks up, soft and tentative.

“I like to run,” he says. “I used to like to run.”

Sebastian takes that in, along with the desperate longing in his voice. He wonders when the last time was that Jaime got to run freely.

“Well,” Sebastian says, leaning forward. “I can honestly say I’ve never related to something less in my life. But this is a pretty quiet street and it probably wouldn't kill me to invest in my cardiovascular health every once in a while, so if you ever want a buddy to go running with…”

He trails off when the full intensity of Jaime’s big, brown eyes turn on him.

“What?” Sebastian asks, immediately worried he has said something wrong.

Jaime takes a minute to study his face, then swallows. “You would let me run?”

Don’t react. Don’t fucking react, because breaking down into tears as the raw, earnest hope in his expression isn’t going to help anyone.

“Sure,” Sebastian says, though a little bit of the vowel gets lost in his throat.

“And you would… come with me?”

Sebastian shrugs. “If you wanted me to, yeah. Though I make no promises you won’t have to fireman-carry me back when I pass out from exhaustion.”

That wide-open gaze lingers on him for a little while longer before Jaime blinks and turns back to the task at hand. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

They let the music claim the room once again. The next time Sebastian glances his way, Jaime’s finger is tapping against the spoon.

--

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[imzadi-caskett-huddy]

Hell Hath No Fury (4/?)

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I really try to personally thank everyone who reviews with an account here (if I missed you, it wasn’t intentional!) and to the guests whom I can’t personally thank…I’m thanking you now. Especially the guest who said I was one of the best writers…thank you, those words mean a lot. I’m hardly the best, I just try to keep everyone as much in character as possible.

Fair warning…I detest writing casework and police work…so the shooter stuff is going to get wrapped up without much actual procedural writing. That’s not to say there won’t still be a confrontation, but I prefer to focus my writing on the relationships and the angst as opposed to someone running down 3 different leads.

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

When Beckett walked into Castle’s room, she was carrying two cups of coffee. She smiled when she saw him sitting up, looking better than he had the evening before; he still didn’t look completely like himself, but she could tell he seemed to be a little more rested and feeling slightly better. “Hey,” she greeted, placing his coffee on the stand beside his bed where he’d be able to reach it.

“Beckett…you brought me coffee,” Castle greeted her with a smile.

She hid an almost shy smile behind her own cup as she took a drink. “I figured it’s the least I can do. I probably owe you like a hundred coffees by now, right?” she joked lightly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m on some good pain medication. And I’m still tired. But all things considered, not as bad as the alternative,” he answered her question. “The doctor did morning rounds already; apparently I’m good enough to move down to a regular room later today.”

“That’s good,” she told him with a smile. “Do you feel up to talking about what you remember?” she asked after a moment, cautiously broaching the subject. Her smile faded slightly when she noticed the look on his face. “You don’t have to right now…”

“No,” he interrupted her. “No, I can, it’s just…you’re still going after the guy?” Though he knew he shouldn’t be that surprised. She had blinders on when it came to anything to do with her mother’s case.

“You can’t be surprised by that, Castle,” she stated simply. “Why wouldn’t I be trying to find the man who shot you?”

“Because he’s going to kill you, Kate!” he said in frustration.

She scoffed slightly. “I’m a cop, Castle. I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m not an easy target. I know they’re looking for me.”

He just stared at her. He could not believe they were going to have this same argument all over again right now, after everything. “Considering everything that happened, I’d disagree with that statement.” Seeing her look, he pressed on. “If I hadn’t shoved you out of the way, you’d be right here. Or worse.”

She swallowed hard at his words and was silent for a moment. She didn’t want to fight with him. “Are you going to tell me what you remember about the shooting, or not?” she finally asked, doing her best to keep her tone neutral.

He clenched his jaw for a moment. “Not much. All I saw was a flash of light. It must have been the sunlight catching something on the gun,” he relayed the information to her. “That little flash was all I saw.”

She sighed, running her hand through her hair. “That’s not surprising. We don’t have much more than that either,” she admitted to him. “It’s like he just vanished.”

“Then let him vanish, Kate,” he pleaded with her, meeting her eyes.

Silently holding his stare for a few moments, she finally had to look away. “So what are your plans when you get out of here?” she tried to change the subject. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she wasn’t backing down from the case either. It was too personal.

“I don’t know. I supposed I would just recover at the loft. Why?”

Taking a deep breath at the frustration in his tone, she released it slowly. “Maybe…you should go to the Hamptons,” she suggested, trying to keep her tone indifferent. “It seems like a much more peaceful place to recover.” And you won’t be in the city in case I still haven’t caught the jackass by then, so you won’t have to know what I’m doing.

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” he commented.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Because if you’re still hunting the shooter by the time I’m released, you don’t want me here to stop you.”

Damn. She’d honestly hoped to avoid having to talk about her plan with him, but he knew her playbook too well, so there was no reason to bother trying to hide it anymore. “Castle, I’m

hunting down this son of a bitch whether you like it or not. He’s connected to my mother’s murder. He came after me. You got shot because you’re too close to me,” she stated firmly, her voice raising and taking an angry edge. “Now I’m asking you to go to the Hamptons when you’re released. Don’t make me go through Alexis and your mother to get you there,” she stated in a low tone, her eyes meeting his, daring him to challenge her. She would absolutely do it. She was not backing down on this; she needed him out of the city for her to do what she needed to do; if he was still in the city and found out exactly how she planned to get the shooter, he would try to stop her.

He stared her down for a few moments before relenting. “Fine,” he said lowly, clearly not happy with her. “There’s no way to ever win this argument with you; you’re going to do what you want to do anyway. You’re determined to push me away, so fine. You win. When I’m released, I’ll go to the Hamptons, and you won’t have to worry about anyone trying to stop you from running straight down the rabbit hole and getting yourself killed.” Had he not been stuck in a hospital bed during this argument, he would have walked away at that point. Instead, all he could do was glare at her.

“Good morning, Richard!” Martha came striding into the room with a smile. Seeing her son and the detective seemingly caught in the middle of a tense exchange, she paused. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, Mother. Beckett was just leaving,” Castle answered, his eyes never leaving her and his voice laced with anger.

Beckett swallowed hard at the sound of his tone. He was kicking her out. Nodding, she took a deep breath and stepped away from his bedside. “Good to see you again, Martha,” she acknowledged his mother on her way out the door.

Martha watched the detective leave and then turned her eyes to her son. “What did I just walk in on?”

Castle clenched his jaw and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “She’s going after the shooter.”

“Of course she is. She’s a police officer…that’s her job.”

“No, not like this. This guy is going to kill her, Mother, and she’s running straight toward him!”

“Richard…the last thing Katherine Beckett needs is for you to try to be her protector…look where that’s gotten you,” she stated, gesturing to the hospital bed. “She’s a detective and a grown woman who is more than capable of taking care of herself. What she needs is a friend to stand beside her.”

He released a slow breath. “Yeah, well she’s making damn sure I can’t stand beside her. She’s pushing me away,” he said lowly. “She may not need me to protect her, but I don’t want her trying to protect me either.”

“Richard, this is who she is! You’ve known that since you began shadowing her. She hasn’t suddenly changed, and yet you’ve always found a way to be by her side before.”

“This is different…”

“You’re right, it is,” Martha nodded her head. “It’s different because she cares about you.”

“Mother…”

“I watched that woman go through hell while you were in surgery. Somehow, she pulled herself together enough to come over and be strong for me, and especially for Alexis. So don’t sit there in that bed thinking that you’re the only one in the relationship who cares deeply. She may not be able to say it, may not know how to show it, but I don’t know many women who would do what she did…certainly not either of your ex-wives.”

Castle sat quietly for a few moments. His mother was right. Both Gina and Meredith were self-absorbed and selfish. In a crisis, they would be more likely to think of themselves than to be there for his daughter or mother. “She’s just so…maddening!” he finally sighed.

“Welcome to being in love, kiddo,” Martha patted his hand sympathetically.

xxxxx

“Yo Beckett! How’s Castle?” Esposito asked when he spotted her coming out of the elevator.

“Fine,” she answered in a clipped tone.

He gave her a questioning look, but didn’t push. “He remember seeing anything?”

“Nothing that will help,” she shook her head, dropping down in her chair and bringing her fingers together to lock as she rested her forehead against her joined hands. “We’re pretty much dead in the water.”

“Uh, maybe not…” Ryan called out as he approached her desk. “Canvas turned up several people who saw a grounds worker during the funeral. Only when I talked to the cemetery, they said they didn’t have anyone working at the time of the funeral,” he offered his information with a smile.

“So the shooter disguised himself to blend in…” Beckett realized. “Was anyone able to see his face?”

“Already with a sketch artist,” Ryan’s smile grew.

Beckett returned the man’s smile; this was a lead. It wasn’t the best lead she’d ever gotten, but considering the difficulty of the case, and the lack of anything else, this was solid and it was something. At least she’d know what face she was looking for.

Before she could have another thought, a stern female voice came from the doorway of the captain’s office. “Detective Beckett! My office!”

Beckett’s head snapped around at the sound of her name, and she gave the voice a nod before looking back to the boys. “Who’s that?” she whispered.

“New captain started this morning. Captain Victoria ‘Iron’ Gates. Made her rank over in IA,” Esposito explained. “You missed her morning briefing when she took over this morning.”

“Great,” Beckett murmured, standing and heading toward the office. Giving a knock, she stepped inside. “Yes Ma’am?”

“If you see my mother, you can call her Ma’am. You will call me Captain or Sir,” she started, her eyes looking over the file on her desk.

This is going swimmingly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Your reputation precedes you, Detective. Youngest woman in the NYPD to make detective. You beat me by 6 weeks.”

“I didn’t realize that people kept score,” Beckett shook her head uncomfortably.

“Everybody keeps score, Detective. Especially those downtown,” she stated, finally looking up to meet the eyes of the other woman. “You missed my morning briefing.”

“Yes, Sir. I was getting a statement from a witness about the shooting case I’m working.”

Gates leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms at that. “The shooting that took place at the funeral.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The shooting involving Mr. Castle taking a bullet for you.”

Beckett squirmed slightly, both uncomfortable and unsure where the conversation was going. “Yes, Sir.”

Gates studied the younger woman for a moment. “I hope you shared the statement with Detectives Ryan and Esposito.”

“I did.”

“Good, it’s their case. You’re not on this one.”

Beckett’s eyes widened. “Sir, it’s my case!”

“No, Detective. It’s not. I decide who works what case around here, and I won’t stand for a detective investigating their own shooting.”

“Sir, I wasn’t shot.”

“As the Mayor has been so quick to point out to me, you would have been if not for Mr. Castle. You’re too involved, Detective. You can help connect the dots from inside these walls, but you are not to do any field work in this case.”

“Sir…Castle…”

“Is a civilian who was shot protecting an NYPD detective,” Gates interrupted.

“He’s my partner. You have to let me find the shooter.”

“No, he's a civilian consultant who bought his way into playing cop, not your partner. And I don’t have to let you do anything. That is all, Detective.”

Beckett stood there, at first not believing the conversation that had just taken place, and then not sure whether or not she could or even should fight this. “Yes, Sir,” she stated lowly before heading out of the office and closing the door behind her.

Ryan and Esposito watched as she came out of the office looking like her head was about to explode. “What did Gates want?” Ryan asked.

“To bench me on this case,” she huffed angrily.

The two men exchanged glances. “You know we won’t keep anything from you on this one,” Esposito promised her.

“Yeah, he’s right. Just because the captain won’t let you out in the field doesn’t mean we can’t use your help here.”

Beckett clenched her jaw before releasing a deep breath. “Thanks,” she murmured, making her way to the break room for coffee. There was nothing else she could say. She was going to go stir-crazy in the precinct on this case.

xxxxx

Thanks again to everyone who is reading. I know I gave poor Beckett a hell of a day here, but I hope you’re still enjoying the story! I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter.

[41319kbex]

Hell Hath No Fury (4/?)

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. I really try to personally thank everyone who reviews with an account here (if I missed you, it wasn’t intentional!) and to the guests whom I can’t personally thank…I’m thanking you now. Especially the guest who said I was one of the best writers…thank you, those words mean a lot. I’m hardly the best, I just try to keep everyone as much in character as possible.

Fair warning…I detest writing casework and police work…so the shooter stuff is going to get wrapped up without much actual procedural writing. That’s not to say there won’t still be a confrontation, but I prefer to focus my writing on the relationships and the angst as opposed to someone running down 3 different leads.

I still don’t own Castle…

xxxxx

When Beckett walked into Castle’s room, she was carrying two cups of coffee. She smiled when she saw him sitting up, looking better than he had the evening before; he still didn’t look completely like himself, but she could tell he seemed to be a little more rested and feeling slightly better. “Hey,” she greeted, placing his coffee on the stand beside his bed where he’d be able to reach it.

“Beckett…you brought me coffee,” Castle greeted her with a smile.

She hid an almost shy smile behind her own cup as she took a drink. “I figured it’s the least I can do. I probably owe you like a hundred coffees by now, right?” she joked lightly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m on some good pain medication. And I’m still tired. But all things considered, not as bad as the alternative,” he answered her question. “The doctor did morning rounds already; apparently I’m good enough to move down to a regular room later today.”

“That’s good,” she told him with a smile. “Do you feel up to talking about what you remember?” she asked after a moment, cautiously broaching the subject. Her smile faded slightly when she noticed the look on his face. “You don’t have to right now…”

“No,” he interrupted her. “No, I can, it’s just…you’re still going after the guy?” Though he knew he shouldn’t be that surprised. She had blinders on when it came to anything to do with her mother’s case.

“You can’t be surprised by that, Castle,” she stated simply. “Why wouldn’t I be trying to find the man who shot you?”

“Because he’s going to kill you, Kate!” he said in frustration.

She scoffed slightly. “I’m a cop, Castle. I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m not an easy target. I know they’re looking for me.”

He just stared at her. He could not believe they were going to have this same argument all over again right now, after everything. “Considering everything that happened, I’d disagree with that statement.” Seeing her look, he pressed on. “If I hadn’t shoved you out of the way, you’d be right here. Or worse.”

She swallowed hard at his words and was silent for a moment. She didn’t want to fight with him. “Are you going to tell me what you remember about the shooting, or not?” she finally asked, doing her best to keep her tone neutral.

He clenched his jaw for a moment. “Not much. All I saw was a flash of light. It must have been the sunlight catching something on the gun,” he relayed the information to her. “That little flash was all I saw.”

She sighed, running her hand through her hair. “That’s not surprising. We don’t have much more than that either,” she admitted to him. “It’s like he just vanished.”

“Then let him vanish, Kate,” he pleaded with her, meeting her eyes.

Silently holding his stare for a few moments, she finally had to look away. “So what are your plans when you get out of here?” she tried to change the subject. She didn’t want to fight with him, but she wasn’t backing down from the case either. It was too personal.

“I don’t know. I supposed I would just recover at the loft. Why?”

Taking a deep breath at the frustration in his tone, she released it slowly. “Maybe…you should go to the Hamptons,” she suggested, trying to keep her tone indifferent. “It seems like a much more peaceful place to recover.” And you won’t be in the city in case I still haven’t caught the jackass by then, so you won’t have to know what I’m doing.

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” he commented.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Because if you’re still hunting the shooter by the time I’m released, you don’t want me here to stop you.”

Damn. She’d honestly hoped to avoid having to talk about her plan with him, but he knew her playbook too well, so there was no reason to bother trying to hide it anymore. “Castle, I’m

hunting down this son of a bitch whether you like it or not. He’s connected to my mother’s murder. He came after me. You got shot because you’re too close to me,” she stated firmly, her voice raising and taking an angry edge. “Now I’m asking you to go to the Hamptons when you’re released. Don’t make me go through Alexis and your mother to get you there,” she stated in a low tone, her eyes meeting his, daring him to challenge her. She would absolutely do it. She was not backing down on this; she needed him out of the city for her to do what she needed to do; if he was still in the city and found out exactly how she planned to get the shooter, he would try to stop her.

He stared her down for a few moments before relenting. “Fine,” he said lowly, clearly not happy with her. “There’s no way to ever win this argument with you; you’re going to do what you want to do anyway. You’re determined to push me away, so fine. You win. When I’m released, I’ll go to the Hamptons, and you won’t have to worry about anyone trying to stop you from running straight down the rabbit hole and getting yourself killed.” Had he not been stuck in a hospital bed during this argument, he would have walked away at that point. Instead, all he could do was glare at her.

“Good morning, Richard!” Martha came striding into the room with a smile. Seeing her son and the detective seemingly caught in the middle of a tense exchange, she paused. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, Mother. Beckett was just leaving,” Castle answered, his eyes never leaving her and his voice laced with anger.

Beckett swallowed hard at the sound of his tone. He was kicking her out. Nodding, she took a deep breath and stepped away from his bedside. “Good to see you again, Martha,” she acknowledged his mother on her way out the door.

Martha watched the detective leave and then turned her eyes to her son. “What did I just walk in on?”

Castle clenched his jaw and took a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “She’s going after the shooter.”

“Of course she is. She’s a police officer…that’s her job.”

“No, not like this. This guy is going to kill her, Mother, and she’s running straight toward him!”

“Richard…the last thing Katherine Beckett needs is for you to try to be her protector…look where that’s gotten you,” she stated, gesturing to the hospital bed. “She’s a detective and a grown woman who is more than capable of taking care of herself. What she needs is a friend to stand beside her.”

He released a slow breath. “Yeah, well she’s making damn sure I can’t stand beside her. She’s pushing me away,” he said lowly. “She may not need me to protect her, but I don’t want her trying to protect me either.”

“Richard, this is who she is! You’ve known that since you began shadowing her. She hasn’t suddenly changed, and yet you’ve always found a way to be by her side before.”

“This is different…”

“You’re right, it is,” Martha nodded her head. “It’s different because she cares about you.”

“Mother…”

“I watched that woman go through hell while you were in surgery. Somehow, she pulled herself together enough to come over and be strong for me, and especially for Alexis. So don’t sit there in that bed thinking that you’re the only one in the relationship who cares deeply. She may not be able to say it, may not know how to show it, but I don’t know many women who would do what she did…certainly not either of your ex-wives.”

Castle sat quietly for a few moments. His mother was right. Both Gina and Meredith were self-absorbed and selfish. In a crisis, they would be more likely to think of themselves than to be there for his daughter or mother. “She’s just so…maddening!” he finally sighed.

“Welcome to being in love, kiddo,” Martha patted his hand sympathetically.

xxxxx

“Yo Beckett! How’s Castle?” Esposito asked when he spotted her coming out of the elevator.

“Fine,” she answered in a clipped tone.

He gave her a questioning look, but didn’t push. “He remember seeing anything?”

“Nothing that will help,” she shook her head, dropping down in her chair and bringing her fingers together to lock as she rested her forehead against her joined hands. “We’re pretty much dead in the water.”

“Uh, maybe not…” Ryan called out as he approached her desk. “Canvas turned up several people who saw a grounds worker during the funeral. Only when I talked to the cemetery, they said they didn’t have anyone working at the time of the funeral,” he offered his information with a smile.

“So the shooter disguised himself to blend in…” Beckett realized. “Was anyone able to see his face?”

“Already with a sketch artist,” Ryan’s smile grew.

Beckett returned the man’s smile; this was a lead. It wasn’t the best lead she’d ever gotten, but considering the difficulty of the case, and the lack of anything else, this was solid and it was something. At least she’d know what face she was looking for.

Before she could have another thought, a stern female voice came from the doorway of the captain’s office. “Detective Beckett! My office!”

Beckett’s head snapped around at the sound of her name, and she gave the voice a nod before looking back to the boys. “Who’s that?” she whispered.

“New captain started this morning. Captain Victoria ‘Iron’ Gates. Made her rank over in IA,” Esposito explained. “You missed her morning briefing when she took over this morning.”

“Great,” Beckett murmured, standing and heading toward the office. Giving a knock, she stepped inside. “Yes Ma’am?”

“If you see my mother, you can call her Ma’am. You will call me Captain or Sir,” she started, her eyes looking over the file on her desk.

This is going swimmingly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Your reputation precedes you, Detective. Youngest woman in the NYPD to make detective. You beat me by 6 weeks.”

“I didn’t realize that people kept score,” Beckett shook her head uncomfortably.

“Everybody keeps score, Detective. Especially those downtown,” she stated, finally looking up to meet the eyes of the other woman. “You missed my morning briefing.”

“Yes, Sir. I was getting a statement from a witness about the shooting case I’m working.”

Gates leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms at that. “The shooting that took place at the funeral.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The shooting involving Mr. Castle taking a bullet for you.”

Beckett squirmed slightly, both uncomfortable and unsure where the conversation was going. “Yes, Sir.”

Gates studied the younger woman for a moment. “I hope you shared the statement with Detectives Ryan and Esposito.”

“I did.”

“Good, it’s their case. You’re not on this one.”

Beckett’s eyes widened. “Sir, it’s my case!”

“No, Detective. It’s not. I decide who works what case around here, and I won’t stand for a detective investigating their own shooting.”

“Sir, I wasn’t shot.”

“As the Mayor has been so quick to point out to me, you would have been if not for Mr. Castle. You’re too involved, Detective. You can help connect the dots from inside these walls, but you are not to do any field work in this case.”

“Sir…Castle…”

“Is a civilian who was shot protecting an NYPD detective,” Gates interrupted.

“He’s my partner. You have to let me find the shooter.”

“No, he's a civilian consultant who bought his way into playing cop, not your partner. And I don’t have to let you do anything. That is all, Detective.”

Beckett stood there, at first not believing the conversation that had just taken place, and then not sure whether or not she could or even should fight this. “Yes, Sir,” she stated lowly before heading out of the office and closing the door behind her.

Ryan and Esposito watched as she came out of the office looking like her head was about to explode. “What did Gates want?” Ryan asked.

“To bench me on this case,” she huffed angrily.

The two men exchanged glances. “You know we won’t keep anything from you on this one,” Esposito promised her.

“Yeah, he’s right. Just because the captain won’t let you out in the field doesn’t mean we can’t use your help here.”

Beckett clenched her jaw before releasing a deep breath. “Thanks,” she murmured, making her way to the break room for coffee. There was nothing else she could say. She was going to go stir-crazy in the precinct on this case.

xxxxx

Thanks again to everyone who is reading. I know I gave poor Beckett a hell of a day here, but I hope you’re still enjoying the story! I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this chapter.