#I’m gonna go to the physical box office fuck this

[weirdgirlvampire]

Fuck ticketmaster they should give out concert tickets based on how much u wanna go

[v-taehyung-kim]

Mr. Jeon

“So, class, is that understood?”

What? What is meant to be understood? Fuck. I stared at him too long and zoned the FUCK out.

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” said the class in unison while I just… sat there. My face gives away my confusion and well, just like every-fucking-thing else, shit is against me. For some reason my face just cannot hide my true emotions, so I’m an open book for EVERYONE to read. I can’t even lie, which is so useless in any school setting. Well this is University, but y’know , same thing.

“Miss y/l/n, kindly stay after class, I’d like to have a quick word,” Mr. Jeon says rather sternly, which is amazing it’s exactly what my soul wants to be fed with. Uh, a hot, sassy, stern and HANDSOME man? Yeah, I’ll take the whole lot, thanks. Also, it’s technically professor Jeon, but he likes to be a little more casual with us.

God Y/N can you quit rambling within your own head?

As the rest of the class heads out the lecture room, I gather my things and head up to the teacher’s desk.

“Am I in trouble?” I ask, awkwardly laughing. Does saying ha-ha literally count as laughing at all…? Fuck he’s talking-

“-and that’s not trouble as such, however, passing this class requires full attention.”

“Uh, sir, with all due respect, I’m doing fairly well in the tests recently, being a bit lost-in-the-daydream, or, I don’t know, zoning out thinking about something exciting, is, in my humble opinion, normal…yes?” I say fumbling with the corner of my skirt, which I definitely wore to get his attention. But I’m making a solid point here!

“Lost in the daydream? What are you talking about?”

“Uh. Isn’t that what you’re raising an issue with?”

“No, Miss Y/L/N but that is also proving to be a problem. Hmm. No, I was talking about not overloading your course load this semester with extra classes. Graduating early sounds great, only if you’re physically capable. I thought you were looking quite ill, for as long as you’ve been in my class. But I see now that’s just you zoning out? And every class?” He says, crossing his arms against his chest and furrowing his eyebrows. Phew that’s HOT. Okay no focus. For once, focus.

To be fair, I understand him. I zone out in all of his classes, daydreaming about him. I know I have to impress him though so I make an extra effort to rewatch his lectures and perform well in the tests. Well, that is actually tiring me out. Maybe I am sick?

Sick in loooove-

“Miss Y/L/N?”

God if I hear that from his mouth one more time-

“No, yeah, it’s a problem. I don’t know. I’m so sorry Mr. Jeon. Rest assured, I’m able to handle my schedule, at least so far I have been able to. Thank you for your concern!” I smile awkwardly, moving to the right to exit the class.

“If paying attention is hard, feel free to ask for help to repeat or explain any concept you need. I can let you know when I’m not in class, and you can visit my office.”

He said WHAT?

Uh.

Yeah, no, I’m gonna take him up on that fucking offer.

“Really? Yes, that would be very helpful. Thank you.”

“Alright. I’ll email you my schedule. Come with good questions.” He says and gets to clearing the whiteboard.

I awkwardly smile again, with my teeth forming a box, and leave.

Okay.

Time to process what happened.

Is he interested in me? No. He doesn’t give that vibe, at all. He probably thinks I’m an air head and doesn’t realise that I’ve the fattest and fastest growing crush on him, so that’s good.

He literally doesn’t care about me. That’s good. A one sided crush and I can fantasise about him all I want. Everything is better in my head anyway.

Reality is no good.

————-

It’s good that I actually have questions and this is actually a fantastic opportunity to learn better from someone that has researched this topic.

Definitely not just an amazing opportunity to potentially have his babies. Nah, a long way to go for that.

I pack up my notes and a bunch of highlighters- because I’m so shit at being organised I just keep loose highlighters, pens, you name it. At least I have some? Does the job.

“Good evening, Mr. Jeon. Thank you so much for giving me your time like this,” I said, blushing, because wow this is so… I mean… we’re alone in his office.

He chose to see me after he was done for the day but still in office to do some grading, which is good because I don’t need to feel pressured that he has another class coming up.

“Oh no worries. Anything for a bright student like yourself.”

Fuck, there I go blushing again.

“Are you feeling alright? You look like the heat really got to you today?”

Oh yeah, the heat radiating off your body- SHUT THE FUCK UP Y/N AND SAY SOMETHING!

But you just asked me to shut up?

Quit talking to yourself in your head dumbass and SAY SOMETHING-

And my face just for redder in embarrassment.

“Oh, yeah, phew, it’s HOT outside today!” I said, quite loudly, which is EXTREMELY awkward. Fantastic.

“Here, I’ll turn this aircon on for you. Don’t worry about it, get comfortable,” he says, turning the aircon on. Honestly that would be nice.

I take a seat by his desk and pull out my notes.

“So, I actually do have questions, but some might be out of curriculum. I went down a rabbit hole whilst researching the answers to my questions, and it only led to more questions.” I said, gathering myself and actually getting serious.

‘Actually getting serious’ you’re such a joke y/n-

-DON’T talk to me I’ve got shit to do!

You’re talking to yourself-

Ssh he’s talking!

“Classic sign of a good student. Your curiosity is valuable, hold onto it. Ask away, love.” He says, smiling so cutely, fuck.

‘LOVE?’

LOVE??????????????? NO NO NO I CANNOT ZONE OUT-

I clear my throat and ask my first question.

“Can you please explain the embryological development of the small and large intestines? I don’t know if it’s my lack of spatial imagination but I cannot visualise the twisting and turning, the umbilical cord and literally everything else.” The words came pouring out, and I’m thankful for that.

“Ah, of course. Let me draw it out for you, love.”

This is gonna be hell.

——

“It’s satisfying to have my questions answered, I must say. And I’m impressed you answered every single one, somehow?” I said, quite casually.

It took one session for me to actually become comfortable with him, and he’s actually more human that I expected him to be. He’s so dreamy, I didn’t think he’d be normal. And funny. And sweet. And cute. I’m in love.

“Well, I aim to please.” He said… slightly smirking and looking away.

This bitch.

Please me.

“Haha, yeah…” of course I’m fucking awkward, how else do I respond to that?

“So are you pleased?

“Uh, yeah. I did say it was satisfying.”

“Well, mission accomplished. I’d love to be of help to you, love.” He said, very casually, making it look like none of this sounds strangely sexual. Maybe it’s in my head because I’m a horndog for him, so sure.

“Oh man, I really need to head out to get some groceries before I get home. Would you like me to drop you home?” He says, packing things up along with me.

Classic. Yes take me home.

“That’s really kind of you, I’d love that. I mean not love, I just mean, it’ll be really nice, nice I guess in a way that I won’t have to take public transport at rush hour-“

“- I get it, Miss Y/L/N, I’d love to take you home.”

Oh hell no.

Not in my head.

Not in my HEAD.

But he LOOKS LIKE IT MEANS NOTHING? It doesn’t sound suggestive… I’m a fuckin’ creep.

“Haha, okay… I can come to the grocery store too. I live alone, so I need to figure this out.”

“Oh? I live alone as well, I have the same reasons.”

Come to think of it, he does look very young, and he is actually the youngest in our faculty. But being young doesn’t mean you can’t have a wife or a husband.

———

This grocery store is as dead as his feelings for me. Fun.

He’s picking out the good tomatoes from the bad, and I’m hoping he squishes my tomato-

That’s actually disgusting, y/n. Get a hold of yourself.

What do I say then? Pick my strawberry? Peel my banana? Mash my potato? Tear my clothes off like tearing layers off an onion? FUCK-

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!

“Aren’t you going to… buy something? You’re just standing there?”

He thinks I’m a fucking creep, I know it.

“Yeah, nah, just thinkin’, “ I say, extra casually, y’know, because I’m cool. Keeping it cool. Smooth. Ice. Chill. Freezin’.

Simpin’.

“Thinking about what, this time? I’d love to know what you zone out about.”

Why is so fucking hot?

“Uh, haha, not much really!”

“Not much? You Zone out every 10 minutes.” Damn he noticed, huh?

It’s true, though.

“Mr. Jeon, I’ve heard it’s rude to ask someone to tell you their deepest darkest secrets.”

Why did I say that

Why

Did I say that

“Call me Jungkook.”

…..

Take a deep breath…

I’M ABOUT TO-

-SHUT THE FUCK UP AND REPLY BEFORE HE THINKS YOU’RE INSANE!

“J-j-uh.. j-j-uhhh-jungkook?” I say awkwardly, scratching my head and squinting my eyes, breathing heavily.

“That’s right, love. Jungkook. Can I call you y/n? I mean, we’re not that far apart in age and we’re not at Uni. If you’re okay with that of course, I respect your space.” CONSENT, BABY!

I guess we aren’t that far apart in age. But it’s a bit too much for my heart and my tomato to hear my name coming from his mouth.

“Y-yeah! Psshh, duh! Of course. Yeah no that’s all good.” I say laughing a bit too loudly and grabbing onto our cart, only to fail to actually grab onto it, nearly fucking TRIPPING.

“Sorry, haha, senses not working today. Heatstroke, remember?” No, y/n, that makes no sense you never had a heatstroke and if you did, you wouldn’t be here.

“Y/n,” he says, getting serious for some reason.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Crap.

I sigh.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m a little ditzy, that’s all.”

“Don’t apologise. It’s adorable.” He mumbles, smiling and looking away.

Yeah you stare at those damn tomatoes after turning me into one.

I’m… adorable? My exes all called me annoying, so, yeah.

“Adorable?”

“Yeah. It’s really cute how you get awkward, and sometimes ramble and fumble, I take notice of it all.” He smirks, adorably so.

Wait, that’s so… sweet.

“Oh, haha… yeah, I’m…I do that alright…” I nervously play with my fingers, looking down.

“Come on love, let’s get you your groceries.”

He pushes me along by my shoulders, laughing.

He ended up getting all my veggies in the cart, and nearly doing all the work for me. I just said the word, and he’d put it in the cart.

I’m feeling things.

Paying for my bit and him paying for his, we get in his car.

I forgot he’s Mr. Jeon for this entire duration…

“Jungkook?” I ask, as he’s putting his seatbelt on.

“Yes, love?”

Stop sounding like my boyfriend, fuck.

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to be so casual? You’re my professor?” I feel awkward even asking this question because now I’ve made things weird.

“How do you mean? We’re okay. I’m sorry, did I make you feel weird?”

No, please keep going.

“Oh no, it’s not something you did. It’s okay, haha.”

He turns to me and looks into my eyes for about 30 seconds. I’m worried about what he’s about to say.

“I think you’re really funny, y/n. And a bright student, I loved teaching you more about what we studied. It’s fun for me, as a teacher. I just think you’re interesting as a person.”

Somehow, I could tell by his face that he felt a bit conflicted but tried to make it sound okay.

“That means a lot to me, jungkook.”

———

A few weeks went by and we were getting closer at the speed of light.

I realised he’s so much more loveable and attractive than whatever his exterior shows. It started off as a crush on my hot teacher, but he’s such an amazing guy. He’s so gentle, listens so well, understands me, is so sweet and smiles so genuinely. He puts up no front, he’s so real and true to himself, his pure heart shines through. He’s generous, and actively gives back to the community. He makes the lamest jokes, and at the same time, is the smartest man in the room.

I’m fucked to say the least.

Here is walking perfection within my reach and now actually a close friend of mine, and I can’t even tell him how beautiful he is.

Weird to call him a friend, but we just connect so well.

“Jungkook, I swear, this shit has me turning my brain inside out. Draw this out too, please.” I say, sitting on his couch cross legged, staring at my notes.

“Y/N, for the last time, it doesn’t get simpler than this diagram right here. Even if I want to draw this, it’ll be the same as the diagram.” He says calmly, looking directly at me.

“Alright, fine. Can we take a break? My brain is fried, I can’t even comprehend the page number. Like, what? How did I get to page 254 when I was page 250?”

“You’re really asking me that?”

I awkwardly look towards my left and right before answering. “Uh??? Noooo? Of course not? I just, you know, yeah…”

“…yeah, okay, break time.”

I sigh in frustration as he gets up to clear the table away and put our notes aside.

I pull out my phone to scroll through Instagram to scroll till my brain is positively hollow, but then jungkook calls out my name.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm.”

“Love?”

Jesus fucking-

My head immediately snaps up and he smirks, seeing how I immediately respond to that.

He laughs a bit, and I blush knowing he’s caught me.

“Come here, love.”

Come here? Where? There?!

I get up and move towards him, and wait for him.

He pulls me into a hug and gently puts his hands in my hair, massaging my head.

“You must be tired. And this is going to sound strange but… you make me protective over you, with how adorable you can be. I’m sorry if it sounds inappropriate. I mean this with sincerity and care.” He says so softly, I’m going to yell.

Yell and screech, bitch.

“Jungkook, that’s incredibly sweet…” I breathe him in, and it ends up being audible.

He laughs at that, and hugs me tighter.

I’m in love. I don’t want more than him.

“I’m here, know that.” He says, so gently I could cry.

“And I’m here.”

We look into each others eyes and I feel all my love for him at once.

He smiles at me, putting stray bits of hair behind my ears.

His emotions seem so genuine, that he really cares for me.

“I’m here.” He says, again.

“And I’m here.”

We smile together, and I decide I want to squeeze him tight.

————-

Y’know, if I wasn’t sure before, I’m sure of it now.

I love him.

It’s true, it’s no longer a crush.

This has been a bad idea. I can’t even actually date him, so what the fuck do I do now?

I’ve been staring at him in class the entire time and I’ve completely zoned out. I know he knows it, he gave me a suspicious look. It’s fantastic, I’m exposing my own ass.

But he’s been staring at me too, every now and then. He looks my way so many times, it’s probably noticeable to others. Good thing I’m sort of hidden away.

But he probably looks at me like his younger sister, since I don’t see him making any particular moves or saying anything that’s remotely romantic.

He’s definitely not into me.

The class gets over and I head directly towards the exit because god knows, I need a break from FEELINGS.

“Miss y/l/n. Please come to my desk. Now.” Girl, I-

“Yes, sir.”

The classroom is now empty and I’m standing before him all awkward.

“Sir?” I say, looking at him, who is looking at me.

“Sir? Really?”

“What? Are you not my teacher? Professor? Sir seems like the obvious thing to call you.”

“And yet you talk to me like that? If you’re being professional, you may as well be more formal.”

“Uh, okay. Hello, sir. What is it that you wanted to speak to me about? I apologise if I caused any inconvenience.”

“As a matter of fact, you did, miss y/l/n.”

“I’m sorry, sir. What is it that I did?”

“Look, y/n. I noticed you really were not paying attention today, and you know this class is important for the upcoming test! The inconvenience is grading you badly!”

I want you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Come on, y/n. Your head has been in the clouds recently! You don’t ask me more questions, you’ve been doing the bare minimum!”

Can I marry you?

“No, yeah, I know.”

“I’m glad that you do but do you realise what’s at stake here? You want to graduate early, yes? Well failing a class will only delay the process! Come on…” he continues to talk, but honestly, I’m just lost in his eyes.

I like it when he yells. So passionate. His eyes are so lovely, so cute. Can I look into them forever? I’d love to marry him. Right now. Okay, tomorrow. He’s so perfect. Does he have eye dimples? Of course he does. I’ve known that from the beginning. I studied his face. Now I want to know more about him. Even more than I already do. He’s so… dreamy…

“Y/N! ARE YOU LISTENING?” He raises his voice, for the first time actually, and I jump in surprise.

“What in the world had gotten into you? Fuck. Meet me after my day ends, we need to discuss this.” He says, and leaves immediately.

Well.

Fuck.

————

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU’VE BEEN SLACKING?”

I’m sitting on his couch, listening to him get mad at me. Shucks, I fell in love with you, sue me.

“Y/N, I understand slacking off is not a conscious choice and you’re probably dealing with something and asking you to “get your act together” is the worst form of support and dismisses the root problem. So, talk to me. Please, love. I care for you.” He says, sighing.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I didn’t mean to.” He apologises, looking down.

You’re so intelligent and kind to me. I love you.

I love you.

“I love you.”

I think out loud, and immediately turn pale.

“What?”

“I love your kindness!”

“You didn’t say that,”

“No, no, sorry I didn’t complete my thought haha! Okay I need to get home now, I left frozen chicken breast out to defrost and I need to cook it. I just remembered!” I say hurriedly and attempt to get up.

Pushing me back down, he sits on the couch next to me and takes my face into his hands.

It doesn’t take a second before he places his lips on mine and I think I’m about to lose my mind.

He’s so soft, so gentle, but so passionate and… I open my mouth to let him enter and I really do believe I’m going to pass out.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans, and it makes me groan.

He pulls away to look into my eyes.

Do I even want to know what he’s going to say next?

[harrison-abbott]

One of the popular boys wanted to beat me up. I found out this news because one of the girls came and told me ... when I was in the playground eating some chocolate raisons. 

“Why does he want to?” I asked her.

She shrugged. 

“I don’t know but you better not go to the bus stop at the end of the day because that’s when he’s gonna do it.”

Uh hu, he was a poppy lad, everybody seemed to love him. They called his name. Hollered his fame; the school turgid in the annals of pre pubescence.

I did not know how to get home without using the bus. 

Nor was there any adult to help me. 

I had gym class that afternoon. Where the lads played basketball in the loud orange gymnasium. I stubbed a finger on the ball. The short sprightly pain was a precursor to the beating I imagined that would take place in public mayhem maybe three hours henceforth. 

The P.E. teacher was the old guard retro likeable gruff sports coach you can imagine from countless sports movies ... except, he was actually real.

A pisstaker but he was cool with the kids. 

I thought about going up to him to speak to him about the fight thing. But I didn’t have the verve. I just didn’t know what I was supposed to say to him to get him to protect me.

Gym class was followed by physics class. I had no inkling for physics or any of its equations or experiments or batteries or mechanics ... or the airy room wherein we sat on stools ... [with the bald six foot five physics teacher who openly flirted with the pretty girls in the class, that, we all liked (the boys, as girls) and he liked them as well. But, he was in his forties and we were teens. 

And the girls thought it was creepy as well. But, he was a teacher, right? And therefore had his powers. He could meet with the parents on parents’ night and not have to do any of that perverse sexual stuff, and he wore his suits well and his shoes often squeaked at the right pitch with their leather pop].

Obviously I couldn’t say a damn morsel to the physics teacher.

And then that class ended. And there was one final chapter of geography at the very end. I liked geography. With the geordie plump woman who could never control her oral volume. Nice woman, though. 

I could never be a teacher. I’m a freak, fuck up. Never have been good with people in any way and children are the worst kind of people and they hate me the most. Bullied all my life. Throughout family hood child hood adulthood, blah blee, a complete muck up with no deserved right to survive.

Such was my thinking when I went up to the bus stop at the end of that day to go and meet this boy who was going to pummel me.

There as an expectant crowd. Box office lines. Carnival glee. That kinda enticement in the air.

I saw the big famous boy standing there ten yards away. He had this posse of lads behind him. Ready to back him up in case things would go wrong.

I weighed about nine stone at this point. Was “skinny like a model” and all of my previous violent escapades had resulted in me as the loser. And yet, he was still afraid of some repercussion. 

It surprised me. The whole icy silence across the crowd. I thought they would all be baying and yomped up on gore. But, all was ... ticktocking in soft pedals, as you’d listen to a clock on a high wall, the fat hand clicking by the seconds.

He came up to me.

I shivered as he approached. What was I supposed to do? There are videos you can watch of boxers thrusting these fists into each others’ faces. It’s as stupid as videogames. And they made one of those bare-knuckle competitions legal in some State recently; I saw that on the news: and there were pictures of the combat, the stage all bathed with blood, and three hundred people watching hungrily. And I thought, what’s the satisfaction in watching anything like that?

He hit me in the face.

It felt psychological.

I thought it was supposed to knock me down but it didn’t. 

Eighty eyeballs were watching. He struck me again. I just took it. It was horrible. Among the worst photographs. There was this tremendous zeal in me - to smack him right back. Hollywood punches. Uppercut. Muhammed Ali. All of that shit which is never real. Ali’s fights weren’t real either. He was a boxer. 

The bus appeared at the end of the street.

He’d hit me twice in the face. I hadn’t retaliated.

This meant that he’d won.

He smiled, and slapped me playfully on the cheek. And then left. 

The bus came and the forty folks got on it, including me. And throughout the whole journey all I could hear was the mass relish about this amazing battering.

[unma]

This took me a good while but hey, I needed a prompt. This was some fun while I took a break from my other WIPs. Cross-posted to AO3 here. Hope you enjoy!

Frisk let out a sigh of exhaustion as she collapsed onto her office chair. She was completely and utterly done with this, tired both mentally and physically. Politicians could be such pieces of shit to deal with, the corrupt bastards caring for nothing but making themselves richer while others suffer more. She couldn’t understand them. She likely never would, but all the same, she still had to deal with them. Convincing the bastards to listen to reason was like expecting a cat to listen to you.

“You okay?”

Sans’s head peeked through the door, his concern evident in both his voice and expression. That was to be expected, he’d just witnessed her stomping off to her office in frustration the moment she was done with her last meeting for the day. She still had more work, but nothing that would piss her off more. Regardless, it wasn’t a good idea to keep working in this mood.

“Something go wrong? A dumb politician making unreasonable demands?”

“No, nothing went wrong. Nothing got better either, but I’ve gotten used to that at this point.”

Sans gingerly stepped into the room, deciding that it’d be better to have the door closed for what she was going to say. He silently shut the door behind him, hoping his entering Frisk’s office wouldn’t draw any attention to what was going on.

Frisk's slammed her fist on the desk the moment the door was closed. “Those dogshit politicians are such a fucking pain to deal with. Those corrupt utter disgusting shits, trash in human skin. I cannot believe the fucking audacity these idiots have! Do they think they can publically call for our discrimination and try to pass laws to limit our fucking rights but act nicely in private? Lord I ought to beat one of them up these days.”

Sans remained silent for a moment, waiting to see if she’d continue. When she instead huffed with annoyance, he decided to speak. “…Alright. Did voicing that out help you feel better?”

“A little, though I admit, the image of hitting some corrupt politician square in the jaw is growing stronger in my head.” Frisk chuckled as she said this, her anger starting to fade.

“Can’t say I don’t feel the same sometimes.” Sans moved over to Frisk’s desk. “Oh yeah, I was supposed to tell you this once the meeting was done. Undyne’s gonna be busy for the rest of the day. Something about helping Asgore with official business, but she didn’t elaborate.”

From the sudden downcast expression on her face, Sans could tell she wasn’t particularly happy about that news.

“Say, do you happen to have any cigarettes on you?”

“Yeah… but Tori isn’t gonna be too happy if she finds out I’m giving you some.”

“Then we’ll just make sure she doesn’t find out.”

He sighed. As far as he knew, cigarettes were bad for humans. He didn’t understand why they’d use them in the first place given their long-term detriments, but humans didn’t seem to care. Come to think of it, there was a lot of stuff that applied to. A lot of humans just couldn’t care enough about whether the stuff they used was harmful in the long term as long as it felt or tasted good.

As for Sans, well, skeletons didn’t have lungs.

He opened his palm and a single box of cigarettes appeared out of thin air and fell into it. The box showed signs of use and a bunch of cigarettes were missing. Frisk supposed Sans had been smoking recently, but he’d told her recently that he was trying to kick the habit.

She probably should too, but it really did help her relax.

She took out a single cigarette and the box vanished from Sans’s hand, a lighter reappearing in its place. He carefully lit her cigarette for her before returning the lighter to his inventory.

“Thank you.” She took a puff of the cigarette, letting out a breath of relief. “That helps… a lot.”

“No problem.” Sans said nothing as the smoke wafted through the room. With a snap of his fingers, the windows flew open. It’d probably raise some eyebrows if Frisk’s office started to smell of cigarettes and Sans didn’t want to deal with being reprimanded by the Queen again.

Frisk paid no mind to this. She was too consumed with her thoughts, finally snapping herself out of her trance with a sigh. Undyne being around helped her a lot, especially in the emotional support department. Undyne was a great bestie. Without her here it’d take longer for her to fully calm down. Sans was usually off on other small jobs or acting as the Royal Judge in meetings, so he wasn’t usually there while she was working. But, then again…

“Sans, are you going to be busy today? Any meetings or extra jobs?”

Sans glanced at her, a knowing look on his face. He looked at his wrist, though Frisk knew full well Sans wasn’t wearing a watch. “Huh, it seems like my schedule for today is clear. Paps is busy and I have nothing to do, so I guess today’s gonna be a tad boring.”

Frisk smiled at his response. “Why not just stick with me then?”

The offer to take on more work wouldn‘t even be tempting usually and Sans would immediately shoot it down as hard as he could. Spending more time with his favorite human, however?

His grin widened. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Drawing Prompt

draw Ambassador Frisk smoking.

[hyunjilicious]

I just read what is and what should never be and it was PHENOMENAL! I love everything you write anyway so I was wondering if you could do a small one where Bucky is alone and depressed and he calls yn because he feels lost and she is just there for him? No worries if you can't! I love you anyway 💕

Omg!! You’re too sweet! I really wanted to do this one justice, but I suck at angst... I love you too!! and I’m sorry if this sucks!

Summary: after the events of Endgame, you and Bucky part ways. Even though you haven’t spoken in months, when he needs you, you’re there ANGST 2.2k

Warnings: overall angsty vibes. Sad Bucky. Idk depictions of depression I guess? shitty writing!

“You came” Bucky's surprised tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Before saying anything else, you shook your head in disbelief. From certain points of view, he looked exactly the same as when you last saw him months ago, but if you looked past his rugged exterior, it was very easy to tell something was truly eating away at his heart.

“Of course I came” you frowned, “You called me”

“Thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Bucky mumbled.

You looked him up and down, thoroughly confused by his statement, but decided to keep the tone of the conversation from going too dark too fast. “Shut up, Barnes” you scoffed, “Don’t even joke about that.” A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips, but it was forced, you could easily tell he wasn’t truly being himself. “What’s up?”

Bucky took a deep breath as if gathering the courage to word his thoughts. When his eyes met yours he flinched, the pain clouding his otherwise bright blue eyes. He started with a long sigh and a shake of his head but then, cringed as he finally spoke up. “I need help”

His confession went directly to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Whatever it is, you got it, but what-”

“Nothing happened” Bucky stopped you, “I need help”

“I don’t understand”

“I need someone to-” he sighed, closing his eyes as his head fell forward in what could only be described as shame, “I need someone to talk to” and it was funny, considering he just walked out of his psychiatrist’s office. “Someone that’s not paid to listen to me” he added, “Someone who understands”

It was moments like these that you truly wished Steve was still here. Or Nat. Your best friends, yes, but they were the glue that held you all together, and now in their absence, you were all threatening to fall apart. 

But of course you’d be there for Bucky. Whatever he needed you were more than eager to provide, but at the same time, you were fully aware that your capabilities were limited. You didn’t lack the understanding or the experience, but you lacked the words. You had the sympathy, but not the advice he needed. But you were there. Like you have always been and always will be, so, that afternoon you ended up on his living room floor.

Surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol that had no effect on either of you whatsoever, you sat and listened to him rant his heart out until his throat couldn’t take it anymore. And then he broke down - completely. A full on mess, tears staining his cheeks as the temperature dropped in the room with every other pained groan he’d release. But he let it all out and the weight he had been carrying on his shoulder was unimaginable. There were too many things eating away at his heart, but the guilt was what kept him under its spell, what kept him up for the last months, what was physically destroying him.

“Y/n... “ he called for you, face hidden in his hands as he spoke, “I know you’re gonna say no, but-”

“No,” you stopped him, “Then don’t ask me”

“Please”

“No, Bucky” you sighed, grabbing his wrist so you could look him in the eyes, “If you already know it’s a bad idea, please don’t tell me because I’m afraid I’ll actually go through with it right now”

“But i can’t fucking sleep!” he cried out loud, falling back against the couch, arms propped up on his knees, “I keep having the same nightmares over and over again, and I can’t take it anymore”

“You don’t-” you took a deep breath, “You don’t want me to erase your mind, do you?”

The look in his eyes proved that that was exactly what he wanted. And the unshed tears that coated the otherwise pure and radiant blue of his eyes was almost enough to convince you.

“Please-” he begged, “I-”

“No, Buck” you shook your head and shuffled to face him properly, “As time passes, it’s only gonna get worse. The past will eventually catch up to you. You’ll want to know what you did”

He didn’t have it in him to fight you, so silence settled for a while. “You know sedatives don’t work on me?”

“I… never thought about it, but that makes sense”

Bucky gathered his lips into a tight line and nodded his head.

“Lady shrink isn’t of any help?” you asked.

“I have no clue what she’s doing” he shrugged, “Maybe it’s good in the long run, but fuck if I know how she expects me to make any kind of progress right now”

“You are, tho” you reassured him, “Making progress I mean”

“Am I?” Bucky laughed incredulously.

“Yes! You’re almost completely on your own feet. You really pushed through”

“Or maybe I’m just ignoring all of my problems”

“You just told me about them” you chuckled, and threw an arm over his shoulders.

Hesitatingly at first, he eventually leaned in into your hold, allowing himself to completely fall against your chest. “I hate this”

“I think that’s a given” you laughed, curling your fingers around the roots of his way too short hair. “A wise man once said that whenever someone acts like they have their shit together, they’re either lying or delusional”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know” you confessed, “I saw that on the internet”

For the first time that night, you actually heard him laugh, and it sounded so good - it was short and weak, but it was sweet and honest. “That’s a pathetic attempt at cheering me up, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it” Bucky said as he pushed himself up.

“I wish I could do more” you mumbled, “But I don’t know what, or how, but-”

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that” you smiled.

He didn’t know that. He’d never stop thanking you for even the smallest gestures. The day where Bucky would understand that kindness, in some cases, is a given, was far away, but you had the patience and determination to work for it.

As you talked and talked, and the topic of conversation kept shifting from one area to the other, the sun set, night settling outside his small windows. It was time for you to leave, and you would’ve done it, had he asked you not to at the last second.

You had your shoes on and one hand on the door handle, when he stumbled over his words, obviously too shy to properly hold his ground. “Actually can you- can you-” he mumbled, pointing to his couch, “Can you stay here tonight?”

And of course you did. The night didn’t last much longer after that, with Bucky settling on the floor, only a blanket to keep him company, and you sprawled out on the couch as silence settled.

But your mind was too busy to drift off. You knew his’ was too, but decided to refrain from speaking up, hoping to let him fall asleep, even for a short while.

It was loud inside your head. You always promised yourself you’d never intrude on someone’s thoughts and read through them without their approval, but you physically felt Bucky radiate energy, and your mind just slipped. But then, your heart almost stopped.

You saw yourself. You saw yourself slapping him back in Wakanda when he decided to go under ice again, you saw yourself moving a car out of his way back in Bucharest, when you risked your life for his because you trusted Steve that much, and because you were that good of a friend. You saw yourself at Tony’s funeral, eyes shiny with tears and then felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hug yourself - and then realised it wasn’t your urge, it was Bucky’s. At this point, your heart beat so fast you were actually afraid he’d hear it. But when goosebumps appeared all over your skin, you realised he couldn’t hear you, that he was asleep and that the nightmares started materializing. 

What convinced you to act on it was the sudden jerk of his body and the way to fully tensed instantly after. So, unable to just sit and watch, you rolled over to the side and allowed your hand to fall by his temple, little specks of light rolling off the tips of your fingers as you forced the thoughts away. Seconds later, you saw him relax and shift around, gathering the blanket he laid on to his chest as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

His relaxed form and the steady pace of his breathing put a smile on your face. But you made the mistake of thinking this was a one time thing, however, before you realised, you found yourself leaning over him again, ushering yet another wave of nightmares away. And it kept being an ongoing process until the sun rose, and you cursed yourself as you did not get one second of shut eye. But it was worth it. The sight of him finally resting, knowing he spent his night in his happy place that you this time did not intrude on, made up for your tiredness. 

When Bucky drifted out of his deep sleep, you figured it was safe to relax too. But knowing that if you went to sleep right now you wouldn’t wake up until noon, you stood up, determined to give him the full best friend experience.

But all you found in his kitchen was a box of stale cereal, a soft cucumber and candy wrappers. Had he not looked so adorable sleeping shirtless and curled into a ball on the floor, you would have woken him up yelling. But instead, you decided to order some food, and the simple fact that the sound of the delivery guy ringing the doorbell didn’t wake him up, actually terrified you. With a life like yours, no one sleeps that deeply, but then there he was, snoring away the late hours of the morning. 

By the time he finally stirred awake, the food was already cold, and you were bored out of your mind. “What- what time is it?” he mumbled, voice rich with sleep.

“A little bit past 2” you yawned from your spot on the couch.

“2 pm?” Bucky huffed, sitting up in a hurry and rushing to grab his phone. “What the-” he turned to you confused, “It’s 2pm…”

“Yeah” you sighed, “And the food is cold”

“Food?” Bucky gawked, looking over at the small table by the window, “You got food?”

“You didn’t have any” you defended yourself. You wanted to scold him for not taking better care of himself, but he looked so homey and cozy and vulnerable, that you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Eventually, you stood up and walked over to him. “I’ll let you eat, Buck, but I gotta go” you sighed, giving him a hug, “Got some stuff to do” you lied, by stuff meaning sleep, since you were exhausted.

“Yeah, of course” he mumbled in agreement, wrapping his arms around your frame, and bringing you closer. He sank his head into the crook of your neck, holding you to his chest for a moment longer than you would have considered friendly. But you didn’t complain, his hold was stern and loving, and you really needed that right now. “Thank you” Bucky added when he finally let you go. His right palm cupped your cheek as he looked down at you, awe and admiration in his eyes.

“Nothing to thank me for, Buck” you smiled, and then pulled away.

He silently watched you get ready to leave, following you around until you reached the door and turned around to say goodbye. And it was weird. Your heart boomed against your ribcage, and you didn’t have to read his thoughts to know he was feeling the same kind of nervous. And it may have been the one too many stories you read but you actually feared something was going to happen. Thankfully, it didn’t. Instead you shared another hug, and parted ways.

However, all you managed to do was reach the staircase before you heard his door open, followed by the sound of his bare feet sprinting down the hallway. “What are you-”

“Can you stay?” he asked, shaking from head to toe, “In New York I mean, can you please stay? Just a few more days”

“Well, I- yeah, I guess I can” you mumbled.

“I just, I need a few more days. You’re screwing my head back on, I just need you now. Steve is gone, and Sam is all the way in Louisiana and I hate phones and I-”

“Wow-” you laughed, “I’m not even the second choice, I’m the third?”

“Shut up, Y/n” Bucky frowned, “Stop being a smartass for a second”

“I’m sorry” you rolled your eyes, but he didn’t care.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky threw his arms around your shoulders and hugged you close, and you weren’t sure if the ‘I love you’ that echoed inside your mind had actually been spoken or just thought, but it was everything you never knew you needed.

[mizunetzu]

can I request bakugou x male reader where femboyreader is smol, pretty quite and nice, and suprisingly are really ruthless on the battlefield and bakugou is just wondering where he got it from. Until next week bakugou meets his father's and brothers and all of them are tall and very manly men. But civil and nice. Hope you have a nice day,😊

LMAO THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

——————

Bakugou x reader - My Cute Boyfriend and His Tough-Ass Family

⚠️warnings - femboy reader, if that’s a trigger?

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Bakugou didn’t know where it came from.

One minute he was small and weak, wearing a new, girly hair pin everyday and complimenting one of the girls on their newly painted nails. The next thing he knew, he was just as batshit crazy as him during hero practice.

“Eat shit and die!” Bakugou flung across the air, sending a big blast over to (Y/n’s) location. (Y/n) sped away, dodging it with his quirk. He growled.

“Go to fucking hell!”

“Like hell I would, shit-for-brains! Suck my dick!” Bakugou landed on the ground, softening the impact with a blast pointed towards the floor. He stood there, a few good feet away from (Y/n). They were both breathing heavily, glaring down each other like they wanted to absolutely murder the other.

(Y/n) let out a piercing battle cry, before charging head first towards Bakugou and bringing his arms out to tackle him. Bakugou followed suite, charging towards him like a bull with his arm outstretched to deck him in the face.

They got closer and closer, Bakugou’s flashy explosions igniting in the air while (Y/n’s) quirk began to power up. Closer, closer, until-

“Times up!”

All might yelled over the intercom, and both students skidded awkwardly to a stop. Bakugou tumbled over with an angry shout, and (Y/n) sputtered, tripping over Bakugou’s torso making him fall to the ground as well.

“Get offa’ me, crossdresser!”

“I’m not a crossdresser, spiky bitch!”

“Your hero costume is literally a fucking skirt-!”

“Alright alright, young men! The battle is over, no need to keep fighting!” All Might awkwardly chuckled from the intercom. (Y/n) pouted, and swept himself off of Bakugou. Bakugou scoffed aswell, not even looking at (Y/n) as they both walked towards the observation building.

——

“Aaah! Katsuki! I’m sorry for yelling at you during hero training today!”

(Y/n) jogged up to Bakugou, gently clutching his backpack straps and slowing down to a walk. Bakugou huffed. There he went again, that totally insane side of him that came from absolutely nowhere was gone.

“Like I care, shit-for-brains.”

“A-anyways,” (Y/n) cleared his throat. “Do you wanna study at my house today? Or just...y’know, hangout?”

(Y/n) blushed as he ended his question. Bakugou stared down at him. If he told someone this was the same person yelling insults and profanities on the battlefield while fucking shit up, they’d think he was lying.

“(Y/n’s) house?” Bakugou mumbled to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there before...”

“Sorry, did you say something? You’re not really the type to mumb-“

“I didn’t say shit, shittyass! Go die!” Bakugou yelled. (Y/n) chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever been to my house either.” (Y/n) sighed. Bakugou scoffed and shoved his hands further down his pockets. “You better make a good impression on my family, or they probably won’t let me hang out with you anymore.”

His family was probably just as fragile and dainty as him, was what Bakugou thought. He already saw the hugs and kisses and the “Hello, Mrs. and Mr. (L/n)” he’d have to choke out. He rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.”

——

“I’m home!”

A woman’s voice echoed through the house as (Y/n) and Bakugou both took off their shoes.

“Welcome back!”

“I brought my boyfriend over mom! Bakugou Katsuki-the one I was telling you about!”

He heard his mom gasp and timper into the entrance of the house, wearing an apron and holding a wooden spoon. Bakugou was right. Dainty, fragile mother; dainty, fragile (Y/n).

Bakugou cleared his throat, suppressing the gag that was about to come out.

“P-pardon the intrusion.”

“...Ehhhh? (Y/n), don’t tell me you brought one of your little dress-up friends over.” A different voice came from behind both (Y/n) and Bakugou. A young, male voice. Bakugou whipped his head around.

“Haaah?!”

“Ooooh! Feisty!”

The boy, who couldn’t be older than a middle schooler, cracked his knuckles. There was something so familiar about the way he talked.

“What’d you say to me, you extra?!”

“K-katsuki...” (Y/n) whisper-yelled, wrapping his arms around Bakugou in attempts to hold him back. The boy laughed in his face.

Just as the boy was about to say something, an older boy chopped him in the back of the neck, effectively subduing the smaller one.

“Shut up! (Y/n) said he was bringing his boyfriend over! Don’t scare him away like we do all of his other friends.”

Bakugou looked up at the older one. He looked about his age, but damn was he tall. And muscular too. The boy from before may have been at least athletic-looking, but this guy just...

“W-who the hell-?!”

“Now, now boys. Don’t need to get so physical.” A deeper, throaty voice came from down the hallway, it’s heavy footsteps growing louder and louder as it came closer. A tall, well built man came through the hall, crossing his arms. You could clearly see his muscles bulge through his office shirt. “Did you all come back from school? Welcome back.”

All three boys chorused out a string of hellos. Bakugou looked from who he assumed was the dad, then the two boys, than (Y/n).

There was no way in hell they were related.

“Are-“ Bakugou croaked. “Are you adopted or something?!”

“Katsuki!”

His mother laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. (Y/n’s) mother was the only one who Bakugou would assume was, well, his mother. But these...men?

“You’re probably the only person who didn’t go running once they saw these boys in our house, Katsuki. A lot of (Y/n’s) little friends go running because Natsu teases them too much or Kaito and his father scares them off.”

“This one’s different, mom!” (Y/n) intertwined his hands with Bakugou’s. “Sometimes I yell and get all bwaaah during training-but he doesn’t mind!”

“Oh, well that’s good,” (Y/n’s) father ran a hand through his hair. “That explains why he hasn’t ran off the moment we walked in.”

Bakugou blinked. (Y/n) leaned in close. “Trust me, it happened before.”

(Y/n) timpered off to greet his brothers. Bakugou looked between all 3 boys. Despite how built and tall these testosterone-soaked males were, the way they talked and carried themselves gave off the same energy (Y/n) did during hero training. Was that where he got it? From these...men?

(Y/n) was forced into a headlock, his brother laughing scrubbing at his forehead as (Y/n) groaned. He thrashed around, albeit laughing, and tried to pry off his brothers hands.

“Come on-I thought you were training to be a hero! Where’s your muscles, huh?”

“I could easily throw you into the sun, don’t start. You’re just jealous I look better in skirt than you do.”

“Bullshit! I’m sexy as fuck!” His grip was temporarily loosened, giving (Y/n) the opportunity to slip out. “It’s not my fault none of your skirts fit me!”

“...But you know who it would fit?” (Y/n’s) other brother, the middle schooler, turned mischievously towards Bakugou.

“Hell no.”

——

“I’m going to fucking murder you.”

“Hey, now. That’s not very hero-like.”

“Yeah Katsuki! Not very heroic of you.”

“Murder is no good. You’ll get (Y/n)-nii’s dress dirty.”

Bakugou shook with anger as he stood in (Y/n’s) room. He sported a pink, frilly, strawberry-pink dress, that had small strawberries littered around it and stopped below his knees. His muscles peeked through the soft thin material of the dress, and the way he stood with his legs spread apart angrily was hidden under the layers of pink.

“Oh! Oh! Wait!” (Y/n) stepped into his closet with an excited smile. After a few seconds of rustling and shoving away hangers, (Y/n) popped back out with a matching dress on. His dress, however, had a baby blue tint with small blueberries scattered across the fabric.

(Y/n) did a little twirl. “Don’t I look pretty, Katsuki?”

Bakugou, crossed his arms, doing whatever it took to suppress the blush growing on his face. “Sure...whatever.”

(Y/n) happily stood next to Bakugou, smoothing out the crinkles in his blueberry dress and grabbing hold of Bakugou’s hand. “Tada~! We match~”

“You guys look like the strawberry and blueberry milk boxes I buy from vending machines at school.”

“Haah?!” (Y/n) gripped Bakugou’s hand harder. “What’d you say?!”

Bakugou stole a glance at (Y/n’s) angry face. Not gonna lie, he thought it was a bit attractive when he looked like he was gonna beat up his own brother in a frilly blue dress. He pursed his lips.

These guys taught (Y/n) well. If (Y/n) wasn’t as intense as he was during hero work, he didn’t think he’d ever fall in love with him, not the same way he is right now, at least. He felt sorta glad his family wasn’t a soft, fragile family of extras. Bakugou closed his eyes, and smirked.

“Yeah! The fuck’d you say to us, you lil punks?!”

——————

[praisehoes-and-runovervirgins]

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

---

You hold the last box of your belongings close to your chest and take a deep breath nervously pressing the button to your new home. Wow, that sounds weird. Sharing a home with the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight. Your chest tightens. “God, I better not fuck this up” you mumble to yourself as the pent house suite door opens. Noah stands in clear view of the door as it opens. You walk into the apartment. “Y/N'' he yells at the top of his voice. “Where were you? I didn’t see you. I was worried, '' he said all in one breath. He wraps his arms around your leg and takes a deep inhale.

You look at him confused and put the box down. You have to tear him off you so you can kneel down to give him your daily bear hug. As you do, you notice his teary puffy eyes. You look at him puzzled then suddenly, almost like something in you woke up you panic, “Are you okay baby?” you grab him by the arm and turn him around manically looking for a source of pain. He doesn’t answer. You grab his leg and pull his PJ's up to continue looking for some sort of bruise, anything physical that would explain him crying. “He was crying cause he didn’t see you” a voice said walking past you and Noah. You look up at Liam grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. His face looked disinterested. “He woke up and he didn't see you, he thought you left,” he said, rubbing the apple on his shirt. You lock eyes for a moment as you try to read into his expression. Fuck, he’s just like his dad, so hard to make out what he’s thinking. The sniffles coming from Noah make you break your eye contact. You look at him with wide eyes. “It’s okay Y/N. I’m okay. Please don’t cry. I just thought..” he jumps on you again, this time throwing you both onto the floor. “I’m not leaving Noah” you say, squeezing him tight. You didn’t even notice when your eyes were wet before Noah pushed back on you. He wipes the tears out your eyes. You smile at him softly. A few moments with Noah went on about how he’s so excited about your room and how it’s really close to theirs. Where’s Bakugou? You look around distracted as Noah goes on. “He’s upstairs” Liam says walking towards you with a napkin. He hands it to you and turns on his heel as he takes another bite of his apple. You sit there stunned, holding the soft piece of tissue in your hand. “Did you hear what I said?” Liam says, grabbing your face with both hands and then smashing his face into your neck. “Let’s go find your dad, yeah?” you say as you start to pick Noah up.

Bakugou is on the floor, legs crossed as he’s holding a piece of your unmade bed frame. He has his phone pressed against his ear and shoulder. “I already told you I don’t want to go on another date with her” he growled into the phone. “Well, that’s not my problem. I don’t care what the public thinks about us.” he says a little louder. “Daddy!” Noah says running, throwing himself on his back. “Hey buddy” Bakugou says, ending the call in one swipe of his finger and tossing it on his lap. “What were you talking about?” he says, gripping Bakugou's neck a bit too hard. “You're trying to kill me buddy” Bakugou says, letting out a quick laugh as he releases Noah's hands off his neck. They sit there laughing for a little. I love seeing them like this. It’s so different from how the rest of the world sees him. Bakugou looks at you leaning on the door and cracks a smirk. “Are you gonna come into your new room or what?” he says, turning around to face Noah again. You feel like the wind was knocked out of you when he looks at you even for a second. I’m going to have to live with this man. You got this y/n? You steady yourself and walk over to them. You kneel down on the floor next to Bakugou, “Do you need help? I am pretty helpful with these types of things” you say taking the piece of wood off the floor. “For starters, this was supposed to go in that thing” you say giggling. “Ah fuck” he says rolling his eyes. “HEY, WATCH YOUR MOUTH” Noah scolds him. You all break out in laughter. You spend the rest of the morning setting up your new bed set. You told bakugou that you could just use the one you had in your old apartment but he insisted on getting you a new one. You can appreciate all the things he does for you, since you’ve almost moved in he’s gotten you the best of the best; everything from fancy towels to new hair products for your hair type.

“We’re off to the park” Noah screams at the top of his lungs towards your bedroom at Bakugou. He wouldn’t be louder if he tried. But then again, look who’s his dad. He usually doesn’t raise his voice around me but when he does, oh boy is that grown man loud. The walk to the near park was one of the best, Liam actually was talking to you about his classmates and how one of them has been giving him problems. You try to come up with a plan of how to deal with it. “If I tell dad, he’s going to make a big deal about it. I already get enough attention as it is.” he explains when you asked why you haven’t told Bakugou. “Well, I’m happy to hear you out. I’m not as hot headed as your dad” you laugh. He cracks a smile as you put an arm around him as you’re walking. After a few moments Noah bust between you both and yells, “are you guys done talking? I want a hug too” he says scrunching up his nose. You hug both of them. Noah pulls you close, puts his hand on the side of his mouth and whispers, “without him please”. This child is going to be the death of me. You pick him up and swing him into your arms. “You’ll have to let me go, we’re here guys” you say as you put him down. They both run off in different directions. You sit there on a bench taking in the warm sun. I can honestly do this everyday. This feels like.. You’re stopped mid thought when your phone starts to vibrate. Oh, the alarm I set for earlier. Well might as well check social media. I haven’t had much time since moving. The first thing you look at is twitter, you follow a few of your friends and some popular celebs.

“Did you hear about Dynamite and his new girlfriend?” you overhear two women say as they walk past you and take a seat on the next bench. What? “Oh my god. They look so good together. I would die to trade places with her”. You sit still for a moment trying to gather your emotions. Who is she? Why didn’t he tell me he was dating someone? I thought. I-I don’t.. You grab your phone quickly, opening it and going to twitter again. You search up, “Dynamite and” and there it is. You stare at your phone for a bit. There she is, a beautiful tall slender blonde woman arm in arm with Bakugou. You sigh in disbelief pushing your back into the bench. Why does this hurt so much? Fuck. Why do I even fucking care? He’s not even.. “Hey, are you okay?” says a deep voice. You turn your head, noticing the very handsome man next to you. “Yeah” you say, taking another breath. “You don’t sound okay” he says looking deep in your eyes. His hair is black as night and his eyes are deep purple, you can honestly get lost trying to figure out how many different shades there are in them. “Yeah, I just got some news.. I wasn’t expecting it” you say shifting your eyes down and moving some hair out of your face. “I bet. Boyfriend?” He says as he watches your face carefully for a reaction. You let out a slight giggle before letting out a breath and bite your lip, “no”. The man and you sit in silence for a minute. Fucking hell. Why do I feel like shit right now? This hot guy is next to me and all I could think about is you wrapped around another woman. Fuck this.. You lay your eyes on the man again. He’s about Bakugou’s age with a very muscular build, he has a couple white stands in his hair, he’s beautiful. “Which one is yours?” you scooch over towards him. “The little one over there” he points at the kid playing with Noah. He stretches his arm to rub the back of his head, you can clearly see him clearly stretching his muscles. You almost laugh out loud. Trying a little too hard buddy. You both make conversation for a while. It doesn’t take long before He’s asking you on a date, you accept of course. Maybe seeing someone else for a couple hours will help me get over this.. whatever this feeling is. After a few more minutes Noah comes over to you all sweaty trying to hug you. “Let's go home” you say with a smile. I feel like shit but I can’t even show it. This kid can read me like a fucking book. Okay, put on a smile y/n.

A few days have passed since you saw the pictures of Bakugou and his “girlfriend’. When you came home that day, you couldn’t even look at him. Why the fuck am I acting like he betrayed me or something. I’m just the nanny. Get a fucking grip y/n. Still, you tried to avoid him as much as possible. When he walked into the room, you would walk out, you ate dinner in your room unless Noah asked you to stay with him and you tried everything in your power not to look at him in his eyes. You were butt fucking hurt to say the least. After a few days you get the courage to talk to him. You take a deep breath before knocking on his office door. “Come in,” he says lazily. He’s sitting in his chair facing his computer typing away. He stops and cocks his head over his shoulder to look at you. You can do this. You need to do this. “Do you need anything?” he says, turning his head back at the computer with his hands still on the keyboard. “I-I I won’t be home Friday night. I don’t know what time I’ll be back” you say almost in a whisper. “Oh” you’ve caught his attention now. He turns off the monitor and swirls in his chair to face you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck “I checked your schedule and I saw you work till about 3. That gives me time to..” you say waving your hand around like a child explaining something. “Yeah, that’s fine” he says, eyeing you up and down. You look nervous, like you have something you’re hiding. “Cool” you say, taking a deep breath as you turn on your heel about to make a run for it. “A date?” he says in a low deep almost bitter tone. I was so close. I WAS SO FUCKING CLOSEEEE “Yeah.” you say turning back around to face his him. “With that guy in the park?” He says looking you up and down almost like he’s looking for a reaction. “Yeah, How did you..” you look at him confused. “When you guys came home Noah told me that you were upset about something while you were in the park and this guy started talking to you,” he said, crossing his arms. Why do I feel like I’m getting fucking scolded. “Yeah, I was pretty upset about something" you look away from him. How can I say: Hey, I was upset that you're dating a blonde supermodel because… well, I don’t know. Also, please sign my check sir without sounding like a total psycho. You quickly snap out of that thought as he stands up and slowly walks over to you. You’re still staring at the floor as he stands in front of you. “Is that why you haven’t said a word to me for days?” he says in a low tone, still arms crossed but this time biting his top lip looking for your eyes. You slowly look up at him. He’s so big and muscular next to you. He’s also wearing your favorite outfit. Those sweats and tank top combo will be the death of me. Your eyes finally meet his. In this moment you’re lost in his eyes, the intensity that’s usually there isn’t. You can’t quite put a finger on what he’s thinking or this unknown expression plastered on his face. It feels foreign but nevertheless it knocks the wind out of you. You feel your heart rate increase. “No” you say after some time staring into his eyes. I don’t believe her. “Okay” he says with a sigh. “Okay” you say back to him looking away. Tears start to form in your eyes as you walk away from the office. You take a moment to catch your breath in the hallway and turn back towards his office. Your body almost moves on it’s own. Maybe I should cancel. I don’t even- I don’t want anyone- Before you can knock on his door again you get a twitter alert. “Bakugou and girlfriend were spotted kissing in the park two days ago” it read. The pictures in the tweet were bad, you can barely even tell if they were kissing or not but It still made your chest ache. Bakugou opened the door to see you squinting at your phone trying to zoom into the picture. “Change your mind?” he said leaning on the door frame. You jump up and step back, you didn't notice how close you guys were. “No.” you say looking him dead in the eye. “Why would I? I am so excited” you say with a broken smile.

Bakugou and you don’t speak for the rest of the day. You are both noticeable in a bad mood.. “What’s wrong with daddy?” Noah says to Liam as Bakugou stomps around the house while you’re hiding in your room. “He’s jealous,” Liam says looking at Noah. “I have a plan, wanna help?” he says, smiling at Noah. Noah gives him the same devilish smile back.

Taglist: @lil-miminini @bqkuho3 @xoxo-teddybear @candybabey @butterflyhallucations @sizzlingdonutturtlemuffin @hay-leeeah @speedmetalqueen @yourfavoriteblackfemweeb @bakucumsackslut @shipchild @nanamithecute

I'm so sorry it took so long but If anyone else wants to me on the tag list for the next one lmk :)

[casitafallz-a]

Decay AU | Birthday time!

Decay knew something suspicious was going on whenever she did her typical routine; Wake up, morning run, food, study for an upcoming assignment or just study, two hours without her prosthetics on to let them charge which was nap time… then lunch…. Then afternoon workout with both hand-to-hand and weapons training and more study of one subject or another, or in most cased get dragged into whatever bullshit her group found until dinner and bed.

Decay hadn’t seen or heard a whisper of even Wanderer or Watcher Mirabel by the time her studying was up which alone was mild suspicious because both or one of them always found an excuse to bother her. What made the warning bells go off was when Pariah and Stray seemed to be absent from their typical places and routines.  

So she went looking.

The Watcher Casita was by no means small, a fact that even Decay often had to check her map to make sure she was on the right floor, even a year in, because it’s size was so vast. It was practically a castle that stood over the districts of the Watcher AU. A lot of space to cover and unfortunately, the Casita was by no means willing to help her so it had to be a manual hunt.

Decay hadn’t gotten to Communications before Tomadas Luisa roped her into helping with her move ammunition crates at the shooting range.

“Has Pariah and Stray been sent onto assignment?” Decay asked boredly, checking through the box with the barcode reader and opened it up once it flashed green. “Like, normally they send me a message on my phone or through the comm-system when they do… I haven’t seen them all day..”

“Err…” Tomadas frowned hesitantly, “They’re….fucking?”

Decay turned and have her variant-sibling a look of disgust and the woman herself looked appalled by her own words. While the two weren’t their parents, they looked like them and anymore more than hand-holding or a soft peck, they didn’t need to see.

Plus, Stray and Pariah made it very clear they weren’t a thing. Stray was 35 while Pariah was still very in her 50s. If Stray ever wanted to get that far, they’d have to wait until he was at least physically older by another 10 years. He had tied his aging process to his Au than take a seal like she had.

“Wanna…run that by me again?” Decay asked, pulling out the magazines and set them into the racking. “

“Can I?” Tomadas looked relieved, “I meant to say, they’re in medical. Rana’s having her little heart checked.”

“Great. Once I’m done with this box, I’ll go right down.” Decay watched as a nervous sweat broke across Tomadas’s for head, watching as she got a little more anxious with each mag she placed.

“I think that was this morning. I don’t know if they’re still there!” Tomadas called as the last mag was placed. “No point bothering Watcher Julieta…”

“Tomadas, like my own Luisa, you’re absolutely shit at lying…which is ironic given you were raised in this AU and by officers.” Tomadas had been kidnapped after her 5th birthday and lost from Encanto until a group recovered her but it had been a rush to leave so they took her with them. Decay didn’t know the details but did find the differences of each world fascinating to have tabs on a few people.

Tomadas looked mildly offended. “Rude.”

“and you lot are hiding something from me. So, gonna spill or should I continue my investigation of why my crew are AWOL.” Decay raised an eyebrow, tilting her head towards Casita’s way.

Tomadas sniffed indignantly and began to reorganise her work which was her answer.

Decay abandoned her to it and padded back to the looming form of Casita.

She felt the familiar buzzing against her shoulder before she sighed and headed towards her room instead; Her arms needed to charge, great. The last thing she wanted was to be caught mid-way when the batteries died on her. Her prosthetics seemed so much heavier when unpowered.

Wrinkling her nose, Decay floated into her room and almost died of a heart attack.

“SURPRISE!!”

Decay screamed, fell back and was bordering almost seeing god before Wanderer’s seemed to appear and caught her by the shoulders.

The urge to clock someone in the face was never higher; sharply throned plants and cactuses spread with a wave of multi-coloured plants and it took a moment to see Pariah holding onto 16 month Rana, the toddler herself trying to get into a small wrapped gift but her baby fingers weren’t strong enough to break through. Stray was next to Watcher Mirabel and a few familiar faces of her friends and Hallow looking majestic with downing bottle of whiskey and a party-hat shamelessly

“Are you okay?” Pariah was the first to ask, her lips pressed into a concerned line.

Decay sucked in heavily before she laughed, “So this is where you lot buggered off too…”

“Yeah, had to make it a surprise.” Wanderer thumped her on the back playfully, pulling her away from her door and inwards to the group before people began to get seats, “after all, given how your 23rd birthday was last year… your 24th had to be better.”

“24th? Wait, it’s my birthday?!” Decay realised before it all clicked into place before the idol giggles and laughter echoed.  “Oh things make so much more sense now!!”

“Yep and this time, you’re under a boulder and no one’s gonna be amputating limbs this time around so that’ll be a plus.” Wanderer added, “Can’t set a bar lower than 23rd.”

“I didn’t get a 22nd birthday party.” That had been a minor debate in the family but there had been a small meal to acknowledge it at the very least. Nothing major.

“As I said, can’t set a lower bar than 23rd.” Wanderer pressed on happily.

“We got you presents” Watcher Mirabel spoke, drawing her attention to the rest of the room. “You can open them now or later…. Once you’ve recovered.”

Decay scoffed, shaking her head. “I thought I died and went to the architects….”

“Deecaay!!” Rana’s little voice and a sudden tug to her knee pulled her attention down to the toddler who held onto her shirt jacket in a tense grip with the gift in the other hand. “Got pressy! Open!”

“Ahh, for me?” Decay knelt down, balancing on the balls of her feet, smiling at her variant-sibling with warmth as the tot nodded viciously.

“Paper shiny.”

“Can you help me open it? Sticky tape isn’t easy to open with metal fingers, Niñita.”

Rana happily complied, taking a moment to get passed the tape before the gift fell out. Decay caught it before she smiled at Pariah’s handwriting. Rana cooed and sat down and began to play with the paper for her fun so Decay rose to her feet.

“It’s a few seeds from Floran-14’s AU.” Pariah spoke, her hand coming to her shoulder. “A few plant that doesn’t allow for magical growth.”

“I’ve heard of them…” Decay gasped, “They’re so rare.”

Floran-14 was a restricted AU, a world that was all but plant-life and animals; it’s AU was set close to a sentient void that radiated off magical energy from recycled debris fields; to why there was no intelligent life or an Encanto. All the plants had evolved to resist magical touch that had initially been damaging them like radiation; no plants could be grown other than naturally. It made the rarest and diverse plants that most, if not all Aus had and to get seeds…. That was touching.  

“Thank you so much!” She’d definitely do her study on them first before she set to get them into the ground.  Decay jumped up and hugged her tightly, pulling back as the sharp inhaled but Pariah smiled at her, her human hand cupping her cheek.

“You’re welcome. I look forwards to seeing that become of them.”

One by one, Decay hugged her friends after she opened her presents; a new knife holster from Wanderer (throwing knives included), Watcher had gifted her a new phone, Stray had given her a new set of clothes, with detachable sleeves, Tek had upgrades for her arms ready, Distort….considered his mere presence a gift while Hallow had arranged an trip to an AU of Delacor-2, an AU that hosts annual hunger-game style challenge but without the death.

All in all, Decay found herself enjoying the party and relaxed making flower crowns and smearing Rana in coloured pollen to spread around.

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something” 

Word Count: 3,887 

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen​ mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao. 

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law. 

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.” 

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?” 

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,” 

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?” 

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head. 

“Alex isn’t available?” 

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?” 

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.” 

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit. 

“You have no evidenc—” 

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit,  “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.” 

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you. 

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford,  I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?” 

 Bradford lunges,  but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—” 

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.” 

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—” 

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.” 

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says. 

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?” 

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.” 

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?” 

“To go home? Yes,” 

“I just wanted—” 

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?” 

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him. 

But surprisingly his voice was soft,  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” 

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—” 

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?” 

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head. 

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.” 

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.” 

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.” 

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—” 

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.” 

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes. 

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—” 

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,” 

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—” 

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—” 

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—” 

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?” 

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—” 

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?” 

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom,  “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,” 

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers. 

It would be fine. 

You would be fine. 

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you. 

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—” 

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face. 

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—” 

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder,  “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.” 

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?” 

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.” 

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—” 

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.” 

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself. 

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.” 

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—” 

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him. 

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?” 

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,” 

“Do I ever?” 

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?” 

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—” 

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—” 

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.” 

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,” 

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?” 

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.” 

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head. 

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?” 

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?” 

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.” 

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—” 

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—” 

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.” 

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?” 

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over? 

No, wait he was that stupid. 

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks. 

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine,  “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table. 

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning. 

What if they found your body? 

What if Munch found your body? 

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid. 

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture. 

And you didn’t know what was worse. 

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free,  “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists,  “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.” 

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help. 

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle. 

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet. 

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose. 

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—” 

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.” 

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—” 

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.” 

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,” 

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently. 

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.” 

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least. 

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder. 

It was over. 

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.” 

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,” 

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened— 

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. 

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you. 

But you were also a victim now. 

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?” 

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—” 

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.” 

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in. 

“—been asleep?” 

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.” 

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking. 

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,” 

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms. 

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,” 

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,” 

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’” 

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,” 

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.  

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought. 

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.” 

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—” 

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—” 

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” 

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?” 

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,” 

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name. 

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips. 

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing. 

“Why...?” 

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?” 

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.” 

“I could say the same to you, counselor,” 

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense. 

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush. 

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir. 

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips,  “I’m gonna suck something.” 

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

Don't fear the reaper

You love to go urban exploring and you make contact with a sexy supernatural being. I wrote this during KINKtober

Kirishima x female reader

TW:CHOKING, ROUGH SEX, BREEDING KINK, TALK OF DEATH.

Word count: 3420

Walking through abandoned buildings wasn't the safest hobby but it was definitely the most interesting one. You loved seeing all the graffiti, art and equipment from a bygone era. Sometimes you went with groups when the buildings seemed more dangerous but today you went alone. As you made your way through the abandoned factory for today's exploration you noticed all the dusty work stations, they were so eerie the way they were still set up like a worker had walked away for a break and just never returned. You were honestly tempted to film the place but seeing as you were doing this on a saturday and Halloween no less you decided not to push your luck. Walking carefully you avoided the broken glass and some more crumbling areas in the concrete floors. This space was so wide open it made you curious as to what had been made here in the factories prime.

 

As you headed towards the stairs that would take you to the second floor you heard a thump and a voice shout "fucking rats." From above you. Slowly you took the stairs one at a time and called out asking if anyone was there. After a bit of shuffling the voice spoke again." If you're a cop no one is here if you're an urban explorer I'm totally here and would love some company." Laughing you stepped onto the second floor landing coming face to face with a redheaded man with surprisingly sharp teeth. Smiling at you he came forward with a hand out for a handshake. Shaking his hand you noticed how large his hands were and how strong his grip was. Letting go you introduced yourself feeling a bit awkward now that you could see the face that went along with the voice. With a wide smile he crossed his arms over his toned chest, pulling his shirt taunt over the muscles. You really needed to get layed if a rando you just met on an exploring trip was getting you hot and bothered. You were so caught up in your own thoughts you almost didn't hear him introduce himself.

 

"The names Eijiro Kirishima and it's nice to meet a fellow explorer." You smiled at him before looking away to take in your new surroundings. The second floor was a bit dark and seemed even more dusty than the first if that was possible. Walking further into the area you saw a wooden plank laying in the middle of the mostly clear walkway. As you looked at it Kirishima chuckled and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "That plank was my fault. I was walking further in to explore some more and a rat jumped out at me." Laughing you told him you had heard his comments on the rat earlier from downstairs. It was quite interesting to see such a large man blush like a child at being caught cursing. Quickly Kirishima bent down and picked up the plank to place it back against the wall.

 

Damn the man had an amazing ass and those arms were so cut you were definitely sure your pussy had just clenched a little. This was bad, this poor man was just being friendly and here you were imagining what it would be like to have his forearm around your throat while he did dirty things to your body. Clearing your throat you asked if he'd like to join for the rest of the second floor exploration. "I'd love that pebble. I usually wander around alone but I'd never say no to having company as cute as you." Blushing you looked away as you started to walk with him going deeper into the dusty space. To your left there were tons of planks and glass panes leaning against the wall and to the right were mostly boxes stacked against the railings. You assumed this must have been office space for the owners and admins of the factory. As you walked a little ahead trying to see what was by the farthest walls you heard the floorboards groaning under your weight before they completely went out from under you.

 

You were lucky and grabbed a part of the floor that hadn't caved in as you fell. You yelled for help and saw Kirishima walk closer to where you were hanging. His face looked conflicted as he made no move to help or even to give you any reassurance. You realized he wasn't scared to fall in but you couldn't tell why he wouldn't help. Sighing defeatedly Kirishima walked over without an ounce of fear and crouched down to make eye contact with you. "I don't know what to do with you pebble, my job is to guide your soul to the afterlife but I really like you. You're so sweet and shy, much too good to be restarted just because the plan says so." What was he talking about? His job was to guide your soul? Why was he talking like he knew you? You just met him 30 minutes ago. Had you just become friends with a nut job who planned to watch you die?

 

"Ah I can see that you're confused, I mean I would be too." standing up to his full high he towered over you as you continued to stare up at him with a mix of confusion and fear. He placed back and forth for a moment before turning to you and smiling that big sharp toothed grin that moments before would have made your tummy do a little flip. If hanging half out of a hole in an abandoned building wasn't enough what happened next shocked you so much you almost lost your grip. Kirishima slowly began to lift off from the floor just floating in mid air. With wide eyes you stared in shock, wondering if maybe you had gone a little crazy while hoping he might help you so that you didn't fall to your death. "Well I know what I'm about to tell you is a bit unbelievable so I decided to show you that I'm not joking before I explain. I happen to be a reaper and today was supposed to be the day you die. But like I said I really don't know what to do with you seeing as I don't want someone as manly and fearless as you to just be gone and reincarnated as someone else."

 

As if to further prove his status as a reaper the man before you started to change. His hoodie and shorts, which were pretty standard for building walks, melted away into a pair of black military style pants and boots along with a fitted black tank top that hugged his chest and back muscles in a way that should definitely be illegal. His arms were covered in a few black band tattoos that circled his wrists and biceps. What was the most astonishing was that his spiky red hair grew long, long to the point that the ends floated around his hips. His still smiling face was covered with a half skull mask leaving his mouth still exposed. "Hey pebble do you want to live as who you are now even if that meant some things about you would change or do you want to die and have me guide you to the next realm? I'll do whatever makes you happier even if it's not what I'd like to see." His eyes shone with sincerity through his mask and his smile seemed a bit forced. You could tell that even though he wasn't human like you he still felt the same emotions that you did. From everything he had said and shown you you could tell he held affection towards you. Enough so that he was willing to go against what was probably as natural as breathing for a reaper. Looking up at him still floating above you a smile broke over your face. You told him you wanted to stay as yourself whatever the changes might be.

 

Kirishima grinned at you somehow managing to look sweet and scary all at once. Wasting no time he floated over you and grabbed you by the back of your shirt with one hand. Instead of pulling you back to the second level he drifted the two of you through the hole and down to the concrete floors below. Letting go of the back of your shirt he held out his hand to you still trying to give you some control over the situation. As you took his hand he gave it a grateful squeeze before moving to sit with you on a dust covered bench. "Listen pebble I want to be honest with you. The only way for you to stay yourself is if you became my anchor. An anchor is kind of like a reaper's chosen soulmate and we only get a chance to have one every 1000 years of service." This day was getting stranger and stranger by the fucking minute. You could live but you would need to become this man's soulmate, basically his wife. Looking at him again you could say you wouldn't enjoy the physical parts of such a relationship. Honestly Kirishima had no business being this sexy. Well if this kind of thing was gonna happen to you Halloween was no better day for it to happen on. Squeezing his hand you agreed even though you knew he had more to explain.

 

"If you're sure then I'll take us to my home so that we can link our souls without turning into dust bunnies." The world around you faded out and changed into a huge bedroom that was painted black and red with posters of an old superhero movie lining them. There was workout equipment everywhere you looked, well that at least told you that his muscles were all from hard work and not just random spooky reaper magic. With no small bit of embarrassment you sat on his bed and rubbed your fingers across the covers looking anywhere but him. Taking you straight into his bedroom instead of a living room or something told you exactly what you had been guessing at. Linking souls was definitely going to require sexual contact. "Pebble look at me." Looking up you took him in once again almost drooling over his now shirtless chest as he loosened his belt giving you a tantalizing look at his black happy trail. He walked up to you and held your cheeks in his hands. He searched your eyes for a few moments and when he saw no fear or rejection lowered his head to give you a kiss. This kiss was slow and gentle but full of so much heat you were sure every nerve in your body was on fire. Kirishima's tongue licked across yours as he savored the taste of his soon to be anchor. Not wanting to just sit there and take it you put your all into the kiss licking his teeth, nibbling on his lips, and even sucking on his tongue the same way you wished to suck on another part of his body. Kirishima broke the kiss panting heavily as he let his hands caress down your neck until they reached the collar of the t-shirt you wore. With barely a flick of his fingers your shirt was torn down the middle, your bra sharing its fate. He pushed the shredded material down your shoulders letting it fall to the bed.

 

"I'm going to be as gentle as I can for you pebble but I have very limited control over myself at the moment. Your so fucking beautiful I swear my supervisor gave me your case cause he knew I'd fall for you." Crawling over you he straddled your waist and began to kiss and bite down your neck stopping only when he reached your breast. Pushing both your breasts together he kissed every inch of them worshiping the heavy mounds. With no warning he sucked both of your nipples into his mouth, bathing them with his tongue before biting them. After every bite he flicked his tongue against the hardened peaks earned himself little whines and moans of appreciation. Once he felt that he could no longer hold himself in check with just adoring your nipples, Kirishima slid down off the bed to crouch in front of you for the second time that day. Slipping his fingers under the waistband of your panties and shorts he tugged them down and over your boots leaving you in only your favorite necklace and your socks and boots. His blood was fire in his veins as he took in the sight of you. Your pussy was so beautifully slick with your juices that it would have been blasphemous for him not to take a taste. Grabbing your thighs he used them to pull your ass to the edge of the bed where he drove in with no hesitation. Licking and sucking the lips of your pussy before using his tongue to separate them. Each swipe of his tongue drove you higher and closer to orgasm. He suckled your clit grazing it with those sharp teeth. The hint of danger from having such vicious looking teeth on something so sensitive threw you over the edge. The pleasure made you so mindlessly happy that you screamed out "eijiro." Like it was a prayer.

 

At the sound of his first name on your lips all rational thought was lost to kiri. He stood shoving his pants down just enough to free his throbbing cock before he pulled you so only your shoulders and head remained on the bed. With you folded over the way he wanted Kiri slammed his cock into your tight little hole. He was only able to fit about half of his massive girth inside before he had to pull back out leaving only the head inside. This move was the best he could do to get the right momentum to start his powerful digging thrusts. Each thrust was hard and determined, meant to help him reach his goal. And reach his goal is what he did, Kiri bottomed out inside of you after 5 thrusts. His cock head kissed your cervix on the last thrust pulling a choked sob from your throat. Being folded into such a position only made the stretching of your pussy feel that much more overwhelming. Kiri set up a hard measured pace,his only focus on getting his seed into your womb to link the two of you together. Grunting and growling he told you everything he planned. "Fuck pebble your so damn tight and wet. I need to get my cum inside your womb otherwise I might go insane. No one told me linking to your anchor would make me feel like this. I wanna destroy anyone who would ever think to take you from me." You whined desperately every time his cock head battered against the entrance to your womb. It was too much and not enough at the same time. Reaching up you tried to rub your clit only for kiri to grab your wrist and hold it in a firm grip. He was almost passed the point of words but managed a beastly sounding "not without me." Before he increased his pace and shifted his hips making sure every thrust hammered your gspot. Kiri leaning over you to rail your little hole was already a sight to see but the way his hair hung down and tickled against your skin made every nerve ending you had buzz with electricity. A few strands had started to cling to his face due to the sweat pouring off of him and you had to swallow to keep from drooling. This man was made for it seemed, he was everything you had ever fantasized about on those lonely treks through the newest abandoned explore. The sounds of your sex echoed through the room, wet sucking noises, the slap of skin on skin and the sounds only two people in a haze pleasure could make. As he got closer kiri started to slap three fingers on his free hand against your clit. The rhythm of the slaps matched his cocks thrusts so perfectly it caused your pussy to let out a constant stream of squirt. At his final thrust he locked his knees prepared for what was to come. Kiri's cum shot from his slit hosing against your cervix as the base of his cock swelled locking inside you. His cum was so hot and he hadn't stopped tapping your clit. All this combined with the swelling of his cock threw you over the edge, an orgasm ripping through your body so hard your eyes rolled back in your head. Once you had gone limp kiri pulled you up into his arms before turning and sitting on the bed, still locked inside you.

 

"You are my anchor now the other part of me that will light my way even in the darkest hour." Laying down kiri relaxed, one large hand stroking your back as your breathing began to even out. Just as you were about to drift off you felt shocks and tingling race up and down your arms. Leaning up you looked down at your arms and found you had developed the same tattoos that kiri had on his arms. When you questioned him on it he smiled happily before caressing each mark. "These are proof that our link is true and blessed by the fate in charge of reaper unions." Your heart did a little flip as you took in his love filled expression. By now Kiri's knot had gone down so you pulled yourself up and off of his semi hard cock. He protested wishing to sleep buried inside you but quieted down when you spun around and put your pussy over his face. Leaning down you took his cock in hand and began to lick all the cum and pussy juice from it. Following your lead kiri pulled your hips down and swiped his tongue through the combination of your fluids and his. Once you had his cock cleaned you started to tease him, digging your tongue into his slit. His hips bucked and his leisurely pace on your pussy became wild as he slurped and sucked away. Feeling mischievous you continued you playing with his slit but began to rub that sensitive spot just under the head of his cock.

 

That is where you went wrong or in this case very right. Kiri's switch was flipped as he lifted you clear in the air by your hips. He threw you into the middle of the room but instead of hitting the floor you stayed suspended in the air. He was using his powers on you! With his magic kiri floated you to sit on his cock no other part of him touching you but the cock pressed at your entrance. "Pretty pebble do your bolder a favor and count for me. I want to see just how much of me is claiming this pussy." You couldn't deny him since keeping silent only made him tease you gently with his tip. Frustrated and wet you began to count each inch. At six you really started to feel the stretching of your inner muscles on this heavy cock. At nine inches you had a little drool running down the corner of your mouth. At twelve inches your pussy was continuously dribbling squirt down Kiri's cock and balls. At fourteen you came whining his name, begging him to fuck you properly and end this delicious torture. All he did was laugh and slowly thrust inside of you keeping you well pleasured but unsatisfied. "It's ok pebble we have all the time in the world now. We're going to take this slow all night long." His last words were said on a beastly growl as he placed one hand on your throat and squeezed enough to make your pussy squeeze his cock in return. This whole Halloween had been nuts so an all night fuck fest with your new supernatural soulmate was just the cherry on top. Sobbing you reached back and grabbed hold of a lock of his hair looking for any part of him to touch that could ground you. His thrusts got harder as you pulled. Well you knew how to get him to fuck you harder. You couldn't wait to learn more tonight and for the rest of your eternity together.

[soldrawss]

Sol i need headcanons for the brothers, please im begging you

BRUH I GOT YOU

I’m currently working on some little fics for them BUT I CAN GIVE YOU SOME DETAILS BECAUSE I’M DYING TO SHARE

(Warning, gets a little dark towards the middle, but overall fine. Sorry for the long read. I went for a DEEP dive on the Age Gap Au)

Ace was put into foster care 4 hours after his birth. His father died before he was born and his mother died during childbirth. Ace had nothing to his name but physical traits of the dead (Like his father's sharp eyes and his mother’s freckles) He grew up with a need to prove himself and to gain something that truly belonged to him all on his own.

Sabo was placed in foster care when he was 5 because of an altercation with his abusive and possesive parents, involving him having broken ribs and running away.

Ace and Sabo met in a halfway home for troubled youths when they were 6. (They both had issues with authority and past placements in foster homes, so they quickly bonded over that, and decided to stick together ever since)

Their bond was so strong that ‘honorary’ brothers didn’t really fit them. They were brothers. And they stuck together and stood up for one another like it was them against the world (which sometimes it was)

They would often run away from the halfway home they were at, trying to earn a living on their own on the streets, and often commit petty thefts in order to survive. 

These little runaway trips wouldn’t last long though, because they were always caught by Officer Garp, a police officer that happened to have a knack for catching little runaways.

However tough Garp acted though, he had an incredibly big soft spot for these two little brats that were only trying to make their lives better. These two kids, barely 8 years old, who had so much hatred for the world because of adults in their lives that failed them. Adults that hurt them, giving them scars and bruises on their hearts just as easily as the scars and bruises on the little frames. 

After a particular runaway incident, Ace breaks down and confesses about all the horrible placements he and Sabo had been in before. How social services always judge Ace’s sharp eyes and label in a problem child, how Sabo’s quick wit always get him in trouble with the adults, how they both have scars and bruises from past foster homes they were placed in, and that's why Ace and Sabo runaway. They’re tired of getting placed in bad homes. They’re tired of having adults try to separate them. Ace is all Sabo has and vice versa because that's the only person in the whole world who they trust to not hurt them. And Garp thinks that’s the last fucking straw.

Garp, much to Ace and Sabo’s but nobody else’s surprise, adopts both the boys, and takes them into his own home. Because dammit, if they’re just gonna runaway, they might as well stay with someone who will at least love them enough to always look for them and bring them back to a good home when they do.

And it’s weird at first, because Garp is the rough and loud and nosey officer that used to grab them by the scruffs of their shirts and drag them back to that awful halfway home kicking and screaming. But then it gets better. Because he still yells at them, but it’s with a tempered and fiercely protective love it when he does. He still grabs them, but it’s just to pull them into a rough bear hug that they fervently pretend they don’t like. And every dinner is spent with tears of laughter in their eyes and cheeks warm with delight at the stories he tells them. (They call him old man with affection and he’s their father figure even though they treat him like their grandpa.)

Sabo joins his school’s baseball team! Which is so freaking cool! He’s a really strong batter, can weild a bat like it’s an extension of his own arm, and Ace and Garp are always the loudest cheers on the bleachers every home run hit Sabo makes.

Garp makes Ace take up boxing, because the kid’s got a lot of pent-up rage and aggression, and he figures it’s a good constructive sort of therapy for the rowdy brat.

The two still get up to mischief every now and again, though. Nothing illegal, but Garp is still having to wrangle up his two little idiots before they do something stupid. (They get into a lot of fights with local gangs because they have smart mouths and are still a little reckless)

Garp has a biological son that Ace and Sabo never met due to Garp’s and Dragon’s strained relationship. Garp had always bad-mouthed him whenever his son was brought up, but it was always with words that had no heat behind them, and Sabo and Ace could tell there was a sadness behind his eyes whenever he looked at the picture of his son in his wallet.

The boys were 10 when they got the news of Dragon’s death a week after it happened. Garp had gotten the phone call when he and the boys were watching some late-night trash tv on the weekend, and he had all but strangled the phone in a grip that turned his knuckles white. He didn’t say what had killed his son, (he never did), but he had told the boys he needed to take care of something, told them to pack up some of their things, dropped them off at his friend Newgate’s house, and got the quickest flight out that night.

He came back 3 days later, and when he did, he had a tiny little baby with him.

Ace and Sabo were no strangers to babies. There was always some snot-nosed kid that would get dropped off at the halfway home (and then adopted that week, because everybody loved babies), and they were pretty sure this baby wasn’t gonna be any different. Because babies were loud and gross and never stopped crying, and Ace and Sabo were prepared for the absolute worse.

But then they stood over the baby’s crib to get a good look at him, and the baby looked back.

And smiled the biggest and happiest smile Ace and Sabo had ever seen.

And Garp had said “His name is Luffy,” and Ace and Sabo had been hooked around his little finger ever since. 

Luffy was barely 6 months old, and was a bundle of chubby cheeks and contagious giggles. With big brown chocolate colored eyes that melted all the sharp corners and edges of Ace’s and Sabo’s hearts.

Because Sabo and Ace were the same age, and neither one of them felt like the older or younger brother. They were equals in every way. But it was different with Luffy. Because Luffy was tiny, and soft and could barely wrap all 5 of his little fingers around one of theirs, and it hit Sabo and Ace like a bullet train because oh.

 Oh this is what it was like to be an older brother. This was what it was like to have a little brother. And Sabo and Ace have always looked out for each other, of course. But Luffy was something they had to protect fully and with their entire being. His smile, his laughter, his heart. All of it. Sabo and Ace knew all the horrible things in the world, knew all the hatred and fear and heartbreak the world could throw at you and it was like a silent promise to each other they never verbalized, that Luffy should and would never have to go through the things they went through. He would never feel unloved. He would never feel unwanted. He would never feel like he had to prove his worth or reason for existing. (He was worth more than any price anyone could give anyway)

Sabo and Ace stopped getting into trouble. They got good grades, excelled in their respective clubs, and didn’t give Garp any reason to chase them down in his old cop car and bring them home. (They were always at home anyway, giving Luffy piggyback rides and teaching him how to ride a bike and do one-handed handstands and cartwheels, and basking in the warmth that was Luffy’s endless love) And they lived in peace like that for 5 years.

Then the fire happened.

Garp was a good police officer and an even better Deputy Chief, and for almost 40 years, he served on the Foosha County Police Department. He had put away a lot of bad guys and saved a lot of people in the process and was an honored and highly respected man. However, this also made him a big target and earned him quite a few enemies. He was 3 weeks away from retirement and spending most of those weeks staying at home, playing with Luffy, and ingnoring the last of his paperwork left on his office desk.

When the fire broke out, Ace and Sabo had just turned the corner from the bus stop on their way home from school. They had seen the smoke, but didn’t know where it was coming from till they saw the towering blaze of fire that used to be their 2 story home and the group of neighbors surrounding the outside. 

They managed to push their way to the front, hands shaking and eyes wide and absolutely breathless, because that was their house! That was their house that was one fire and where was gramps?! Where was Luffy?!

The only thing Ace heard Sabo whisper among the roar of the fire and the loud murmur of people around them was “Do you hear that? That... crying?” Before Sabo surged forward.

Ace didn’t have time to reach out and stop him, and by the time he could, Sabo had already disappeared into the open front door, which was covered in flames. He had screamed out, tried to race in and follow his brother into the flames, but the neighbors around him were quicker than he was and pulled him back. 

Edward Newgate, one of their neighbors and close personal friend of Garp’s was in the crowd, and he was holding Ace to his chest with an arm like an iron bar, as he was on the phone with the local fire department. (Newgate was also the Foosha County fire chief, and was shouting at his lieutenants to “get your asses out here now!’) But Ace didn’t hear a word he was saying. All he could do was struggle to get out of the older man’s grip, reach out for his brother and best friend, and scream his lungs out.

What felt like hours went by, and Ace felt like his heart was shattering into a million piece, the glass shards falling around him, as he sobbed into Newgate's chest, thinking he had lost everything. His home. His family. His only purpose and reason for living.

And then some of the neighbors were shouting again, only this time in surprised alarm and Ace looked up with hazy eyes blurred by tears, to see something was coming out of the front door.

And it could only be Sabo. Ace knew it was him before he could even register it, and bolted out of Newgate's grips that had slacked at the surprise and towards his brother.

Ace met Sabo only a few feet from the door, Sabo collapsing into his arms, and Ace had to pull him the extra few feet away because the flames were still too much to bear even at that distance.

And Sabo’s skin was hot and red and covered in smoke and ash alike. There was a giant welting red burn against the side of Sabo’s face that looked like it would leave a scar forever, but Ace was having a hard time focusing on it because he was too bust focusing on the bundle of blankets that Sabo was desperately trying to push into Ace’s arms.

And Ace was already crying before, but he began crying even harder when he removed the fold of blankets to reveal a muffled Luffy, covered in ash but unharmed, crying his eyes out. 

Sabo had a coughing fit that rocked his whole body, and burns that looked like they'd hurt forever, but he was smiling when Ace broke into a sob, clutching both Sabo and Luffy into his chest.

The firefighters and paramedics came a few minutes later, and they had to physically pull Sabo and Luffy from Ace’s arms to check and treat them. Luffy only ended up with a few mild burns and cuts on his arms and legs and some burning of his throat from inhaling so much smoke, but Sabo had to be taken to the hospital immediately for his burns, especially for the one on his face. Ace pleaded to let them all ride in the same ambulence on the way to the hosipital, and held on to Sabo’s shirt sleeve with a grip that would take the end of the world and then some for him to let go.

Sabo had to get some surgery and treatment to save his left eye, but he was all in all ok, and Ace and Luffy were allowed to visit his hospital room for as long as they needed.

When Ace finally confronted Sabo on why he had ran into the house in the first place, it was on the first night of their hospital stay. Sabo had a giant white gauze wrapping half of his head, and he looked at Ace with tired blue eyes that looked a little fuzy, still a little drugged from all the medication he was on to ease the pain. 

And Ace felt bad about it, he really did, because Sabo didn’t derserve to be grilled on the matter. Not after he had sacrificed himself and saved Luffy. Their little brother. Their little brother who they wouldn’t even have anymore if it weren’t for Sabo. 

But Ace had to know. He was so mad and heartbroken and scared out of his mind when Sabo had rushed in without word or warning. Because they had lost Garp. They had almost lost Luffy. And Ace could have almost lost Sabo too.

But Luffy was tucked underneath Sabo’s arm on the hospital bed, and Sabo just smiled at Ace with a patience that only Ace and Luffy could pull out of him, and patted the other side for Ace to join them. Ace climbed onto the bed beside him, and even with the two 15-year-olds and one little 5 year old, the bed didn’t feel too small at all.

Sabo explained that he could hear crying from the door and he just moved. Knowing it was Luffy before his mind could really think about the implications behind that. He confessed how the flames hurt at first. Hurt so bad, and it was so hot, and everything, from the floor to the ceiling, was on fire and he could barely see anything through the smoke. But he could hear Luffy’s little rough and horse scream, coming from one of the back rooms that used to be Garp's office, and suddenly all Sabo could afford to think about was Luffy’s crying.

Sabo would tell a watered-down version of this story to the cops in the morning, because they were Garp's friend and companions, and they only really needed the broad details for their report anyway. 

He’ll tell a heroic version of this story, lacking any horrific graphics, to an older Luffy whenever the eternally curious kid wonders and asks about it.

But he only ever told the whole story right then on that night, one arm tight around his baby brother in a toothed and protective love, while the other one gripped his best friend's hands with shaking and bandaged fingers hard enough to leave bruising.

Garp was long dead when Sabo found him. The smell of his skin burning off is something that will haunt Sabo for the rest of his life. (Sometimes certain smells will set him off. Uncooked bacon is not allowed in the house anymore after one traumatic morning when Luffy is six. Campfires are viewed and enjoyed from a distance.)

He was lying on his stomach, clutching something to his chest. Sabo knew it was Luffy by the cries, bundled up in a few quilts and one of this office rugs, and Sabo knew he had to get them out of there before the smoke killed them off like it had a personal agenda against them.

The heat was unbearable, Sabo had confessed, but it was nothing compared to having to drag Luffy from underneath Garp’s grip. The old man was built like a brick house, sure, but even in death, his grip on Luffy, protecting Luffy, like he was daring the world to take anything away from him, was steadfast and almost unbbreakable. 

It was the hardest thing Sabo had ever had to make himself do.

He didn’t look at Garp’s face. His body was burned black and bloody and raw, and Sabo couldn’t live with himself if his memory of Garp’s face was replaced by anything other than with the one of his scruffy beard and the shit-eating grin that he always wore.

When he pulled Luffy out, he didn’t look back, and raced out of the house as fast as he could. Something along the way fell and smacked him in the face, knocking him down at one point, but Sabo couldn’t pay it much mind. He got back up, and continued towards the door. He could barely see, barely breathe, with all the smoke and the ash, and the pain from the fire was almost numbing against his skin, but he didn’t stop.

All he could think about was Luffy, still struggling and crying against the blankets wrapped tightly around him. Next thing he knew, he was outside, and looking up at Ace’s snot-covered face.

Ace had never seen Sabo cry for the almost 10 years he knew him. He didn’t cry when he was 7, and the Anderson family had called him a freak and had sent him back after a failed foster home placement. He didn’t cry when he was 9, and broke his arm falling out of the tree in their backyard that Garp had told him not to climb, so of course he had to climb it. And he didn’t even cry earlier that day, at 15, when he was off medication and feeling the full extent of his painful burns.

So when tears started pooling out of Sabo’s pale blue eyes, falling down his cheeks and staining the cotton white blanket he was under as he told his story, Ace pretended not to notice, wrapped an arm around Sabo’s shoulders, and held him like it was the only lifeline in the world. 

Garp’s funeral was held the following week. Closed casket. All the police departments in the county, and even some outside of it, showed up to give him a full send-off. Ace cried for both Sabo and himself. Sabo spoke a few words for the both of them. And Luffy stood between them, holding both their hands. They explained the night before that gramps was gone, but they don’t think the notion of death really got through to Luffy. He was crying, but only because Ace was crying, and when he asked ‘can gramps come out of the box to give me a hug before he goes away?’ everyone has to clench their teeth and hold their breaths to stop their hearts from breaking. Sabo kneeled down to wrap Luffy in a tight hug. Ace covered his face with his arm and cried harder

(They never bother asking Luffy about how the fire started, or what happened that day. Luffy doesn’t remember, and they don’t push it further. The truth isn’t as important as Luffy’s mentality is, but Garp’s old squad promises that they won’t rest until they get to the bottom of it. And as much as Ace and Sabo want justice and revenge, they have Luffy to think about, so they leave it up to the police)

Sabo and Ace are almost 16, and they suddenly have no parental figure, no home, no anything, and suddenly they’re faced with the horrible notion that even more can be taken from them when a blast from their past threatens to take Luffy away from them too.

They’re no stranger to the foster care system, so when social services show up at the motel they were renting with Garp’s savings, they feel their hearts drop to their stomach for fear of the very real possibility that Luffy will be placed in immediate foster care, and possibly, so would they. 

Ace and Sabo jump into action then, because no way, no fucking way, were they gonna lose Luffy. They had lost everything else. They almost did lose Luffy. They weren’t gonna risk that chance again.

Ace was only a few weeks older than Sabo. Sabo hadn’t paused a second to jump into the fire, risking life and limb, to protect what little they had. It was Ace’s turn to be the heroic older brother. And on the day he turned 16, Ace petitioned legal guardianship and parental rights for Sabo and Luffy.

And it was hard, because of course the courts felt sorry for him, the grandson of one of the best police chiefs in the county’s history, begging the courts to let him keep what little family he had left together. The courts wanted to give it to him, wanted to help him. But Luffy was a child. And Ace and Sabo were practically still kids themselves. Asking kids to raise themselves was something no one should ask them to do. 

But Ace and Sabo fought for it. Ace was 16, and Sabo would be 16 soon enough. They could get GED’s, no problem. They’d get jobs, get a little apartment near Luffy’s school, attend any parenting and child service meeting required of them. They’d buy all the necessities over again and they’d love Luffy where no other foster family could even compare. They’d do everything, everything and anything, to keep Luffy. To let them stay together.

With a couple of vouchers from Garp’s old police squad, including one from an overly enthusiastic Edward Newgate and one from the boy’s homeroom teacher, Makino, the courts ruled in Ace’s and Sabo’s favor, and Luffy was officially theirs until they proved that Luffy was better off somewhere else.

Ace and Sabo were never gonna let that happen.

They got a little 2 bedroom apartment a couple blocks from Luffy’s elementary. They quit school, and worked extra hard to earn their GED’s within the following months. (With the help of their old teachers and a few of their overly enthusiastic neighbors)

Ace got a job at the local fire department, as a rookie in training under Newgate.

Sabo got a job at the local news station, writing reports on top of his interning duties. 

Ace eventually got a motorcycle that same year, which scared Sabo half to death and delighted Luffy to no end. It was cheaper than a car, and easier to travel to and from work on, and no matter how hard Sabo tried, he couldn’t come up with a valid reason why Ace shouldn’t use it to their advantage. So Sabo made Ace promise to always wear a helmet when riding it, and that Luffy wasn’t allowed to ride it until he was much older. (Which Luffy pouted about to no end)

And it’s hard at times, both of them working overtime just to make enough to support themselves and keep them afloat, but it’s good, and it’s theirs.

Luffy makes a friend on his first day of first grade named Zoro Roronoa, another kid that lives just across the street from them, and when Ace and Sabo know they’re gonna be late in getting home, Luffy goes over there and hangs out until they can pick him up (Which is totally fine with Zoro’s father Koushirou, a kendo teacher and single father of 6-year-old Zoro and 9-year-old Kuina. Zoro has a bit of a personality problem and often has trouble making friends (because the child doesn’t see a need to) so when little bright-eyed and endlessly joyful Luffy pops into their life, Kushirou jumps at the chance to have him over as much as possible, because the two small children seem to bring out the best in each other, and are best friends attached at the hip) Sabo and Ace are eternally grateful to the kind man)

A few years go by, and Luffy is 8. Ace is still working at the fire station and is now legally allowed to join them on calls and emergencies. (Fire used to make Ace nervous, because he almost lost everything to it. Now he has a personal agenda with it, to make sure it doesn’t take anything from anyone else)

Sabo has moved up the ranks now, and when he turns 18, confronts Ace with a rare job opportunity he was offered.

“It’s a year-long internship for this really cool company that reports and delivers high-class diplomatic information around,” Sabo starts, rubbing the back of his head like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’d be working as like, a cool undercover spy with diplomatic immunity and a messenger bag. It’s not dangerous at all, and pays almost triple my paycheck now, which would really help us out. But it’s overseas, and I’d be gone for a whole year. You’d be raising Luffy all by yourself, birthdays and holidays and skinned knees, with just the two of you, so say the word, and I’ll totally turn this job down on the spot.”

And it’s scary to Ace. Because he hasn’t been alone since he was 6 years old, and he can’t possibly remember a time when Sabo hadn’t been by his side. His best friend and brother. It was always the two of them. Two little runaways that found a home, lost that home, and then built a new home all on their own despite it all. And neither of them had ever been away from Luffy for longer than a weekend, so Ace was sure it would kill Sabo to be away from them for so long.

But he also knew that Sabo was only playing this off like it wasn’t a big deal, when in fact it was the job opportunity of a lifetime for someone like Sabo, a kid who breathed adventure and freedom with every breath. And that when he talked about it, his eyes sparkled with a joy that Ace would hate himself forever for taking it away. 

Sabo was giving Ace the choice, and Ace knew that Sabo would go along with whatever Ace decided without a second thought or complaint. But Ace knew that Sabo would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't go, so he slugged Sabo in the arm, gave him his best shit-eating, confident grin, (the kind he used to give him right before they were about to steal some food as kids, or about to get into a fight when they were teens) and said, “You let me have a motorcycle. The least I can do is let you go road tripping abroad.”

Because Ace and Luffy would be fine. They’d miss Sabo like crazy, and Ace was pretty sure Sabo was like, 90% of his impulse control, but they’d survive. Sabo had the burn marks to prove how far he was willing to go for their family, and Ace had never thanked him for that. Ace was never gonna live that down, and was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to both Sabo AND Luffy, and prove just how good of an older brother he could be. This was the least he could do for them.

[scuttling]

While I'm writing Dad!Bod Hotch with babies... 🥺

...Here's a very baby excerpt from one of my other works (modified a little so it can be read as reader.) It's pretty cute if I do say so myself! Tags: 18+, NSFW, Blow job + Pregnant sex The next child abduction case they get happens a year later, and it takes them to Seattle; rain beats down on the Sullivan house while she and JJ sit with the family and try to keep them informed of what’s going on in terms of the investigation. The mother stares out the window at the rain, and she brings over the cup of tea she’d offered to make, sets it down on the table beside her, takes her trembling hands.

“I promise you, Mrs. Sullivan, our team is doing absolutely everything they can to locate your son safely. They are the best in the world at what we do; we just need to let them do their jobs.”

Mrs. Sullivan frowns, takes a sobbing breath, and then wraps her arms around her; she’s a little startled by it, but rubs her back, trying to provide comfort.

After a couple minutes, Mrs. Sullivan pulls back, and she offers her a tissue.

“Do you have any children?” she asks, wiping her eyes.

“Yes. He’s seven years old, and his name is Jack.”

They find the boy five hours later. Alive.

She and Aaron have celebration sex on every available surface.

“Hey. So, I got three or four calls from my doctor’s office a couple weeks ago, but I was preoccupied with the Sullivan case and I kept forgetting to call her back,” she says later from Aaron’s lap. He sits up, holding her hips while he shifts his weight.

“Okay. Is everything alright? Why was she calling so often?”

“Apparently, my IUD expired a month ago. I have to get it taken out.” He looks cautiously over her face, like he’s not sure what reaction she wants from him. She’s fairly certain she knows what his first instinct is. “Well, Jack and I were at the grocery store when I spoke to her—and you know I’ve been feeling a little off…” She wets her lips, reaches over the arm of the couch and pulls a little cardboard box off the console table. She can see his breath hitch.

“Have you taken it?” She nods quickly, presses her lips together.

“Just waiting now.” Carefully, he reaches for the box, takes it out of her hand, and sets it back down on the table. He pulls her close for a tight hug.

“Whatever happens, I love you so much,” he murmurs in her ear, and they just hold each other until the timer on her phone goes off. She brushes her hand through his hair, and his eyes are wet; she knows hers are too.

She climbs out of his lap, and he follows her down the hall, clinging to her back like he can’t physically let her go. When they make it to the bathroom, she picks up the test, squeezes her eyes briefly shut, and holds it up so he can read the word on the screen.

The word.

She spins in his arms, wraps hers around him, and jumps up and down, the grin splitting her face nothing compared to the gorgeous smile that lights up his.

“I’m going to see if Dr. Rose can fit me in tomorrow,” she says, leaning up to smooch him several times in a row. “Just to be sure.”

“Let me know, I’ll come.” She nods, kisses him a few more times, takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“I love you so much.” He holds her, repeats it, kisses her forehead, her eyes. Then he starts kissing her for real, reverent and steamy, and they walk gracelessly toward the bedroom, tugging articles of clothing off as they go.

She is kneeling over him on the bed, giving him a very good, messy, ‘Congrats, you’re probably going to be a daddy again!’ blow job when she pulls back suddenly, an overwhelming thought crossing her mind; she looks up at him with wide eyes.

“You know my brother has two sets of twins, right?” “A package came from your brother today,” Aaron says a couple months later as he’s leafing through the mail; he holds it out to her, and she opens it up, excited, then covers her mouth, can’t help but aww. “What is it?” he asks, not looking up from the stack of envelopes, and she puts her hand on his arm to get his attention.

“‘For the Hotchner siblings’—that’s what the card says,” she explains when he looks up, and then she holds up the largest t-shirt: it’s brown, with a cartoon bear cub, white letters spelling out Brother Bear. She holds up a smaller shirt: Sister Bear #1. Then another small shirt: Sister Bear #2. He smiles.

“Okay, that’s cute. We have to FaceTime him and thank him.”

“Definitely. He’s not going to believe how big this belly is,” she says, reaching up on her toes for a kiss; he comes at her from the side, because it’s easier to reach her lips that way. “Uh, Hotch, we need you down in the bullpen. She's crying and we can’t get her to stop,” Spencer says into the phone, looking a little freaked. Aaron must agree to come down, because he hangs up the receiver wordlessly; JJ rubs her shoulders, trying to comfort her.

“It’s okay, I completely understand. It’s normal to feel like that at this stage of the pregnancy,” she explains, and it’s all sounding very rational, but she just covers her eyes and keeps crying.

When Aaron crouches down beside her, he takes her hands carefully off of her face, wipes her tears with his sleeve, peers up at her with soft eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“I want…” She gulps, sniffles, and Prentiss hands her a tissue over the desk partition. “Thank you. I want these babies out of me,” she sobs, and she knows she’s making a huge scene, but she doesn’t even care. “I want your babies out of me, Aaron!” He sighs; she knows he’s heard it all before.

“I know, honey, but you have to be patient. It will happen when it’s meant to.” She sobs, then hiccups, and that’s just great.

“But I’m—I’m drinking the stupid tea, I’m eating the dates. I got the, the acupuncture—do you know how weird it is to see those needles sticking out of your body? It’s unsettling!”

Morgan returns from Garcia’s office, takes one look at them, and abruptly pivots on his heel to head back.

“Oh sure,” she calls, and then hiccups, “everyone sees a crying pregnant woman and they just run away!”

“Noo, he just texted me!” Spencer lies, waving his phone that he never even looked at. “He said he forgot something and he’ll be right back.”

“Spencer, tell me what else can induce labor, please,” is all she says, doesn’t call him out because it’s sweet that he even tried. He counts off with his fingers as he recites the list.

“Raspberry leaf tea, dates, castor oil—” she grimaces, because that shit’s the worst “—acupressure, acupuncture, exercise.” He hesitates, looks a little uncomfortable, and she hiccups, gets pissed, takes a deep breath.

“Sweetie, honey,” she says, reaching out a hand for him, and he takes it, pats it awkwardly. Bless his heart. “You’re my partner, and I love you, but please spit it out.”

“Okay, uh. Nipple stimulation, and uh. Well. Sex.” Oh, yeah, the nipple thing they tried, but it felt like a restless cat trying to get comfortable on her chest, wasn’t sexy at all, so they didn’t try the rest. She snaps her fingers at Aaron like a douchebag asking for the waitress, wipes her face, hiccups again.

“Okay, we’re doing it, we’re doing that one. Sex me up.” Prentiss barks a laugh, and Spencer looks deeply disturbed. “Please can we go home now?”

“Uh, yes, we can,” Aaron begins, “but I’m not sure we should—” Nope, she’s not gonna listen to that bullshit. He hasn’t been pregnant for 42 fucking weeks.

“I love you, but shut up. Your dick put these things inside me, and your dick’s gonna get them out.” She moves to stand, and so does he, arms out like he’ll catch her if she starts to wobble. “I know I’m not sexy anymore with this gigantic stomach, but please please please just fuck me.” He closes his eyes, sighs like he regrets so much in life, and then gives her a hard kiss on the mouth. It makes her, like, instantly horny; she’d initiate sex right here if she thought she could get her pants off.

“You are as sexy as you’ve ever been,” he murmurs, hovering over her lips, “and I’m going to fuck you.” Sex this big sucks. Missionary is hilarious, doggy is uncomfortable, side by side seems okay but is actually kind of impractical. She feels betrayed.

Aaron helps her get on top of him—his dick is so hard it makes her feel really, really good about herself—and she’s more than okay with bouncing on him, but her belly bounces too, and it feels weird.

“Can you hold it?” she pants, and she takes the hair tie off her wrist and sweeps her hair into a ponytail because she’s sweating from all the position-shifting. “Just like, hold it.” She takes his hands and rests them on her enormous beach ball belly, sighs because it feels nice. “Good, yeah, thank you, let me try again.”

She braces herself against his thighs, rides him quickly, bucking hard—after about 15 years of wishing she had bigger breasts, she now despises hers, and therefore avoids them at costs, but she does manage to reach her clit, and she rubs it furiously as she moves atop him.

Aaron—who is so great, and sweet, who she loves so much—is all but useless, just holds her belly still and groans like he’s getting the best pussy of his lifetime, which she guesses maybe he is, because she wants these babies out and she’s well and truly desperate. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he grinds out, and his hands move to her thighs, squeezing hard, and she whines.

“No, no, do not come, don’t come.”

He comes.

An hour later, they try again, with her propped up on a pillow, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. The internet said this would work, and if it doesn’t, she’s prepared to let BoyMom282 fucking have it.

“Oh my god, yes, yes,” she moans, clutching at the sheets above her head, and Aaron’s hands feel so good on what remains of her waist as he pounds into her. “Fuck, yes, fuck me until your babies are ready, Aaron. Such a fucking man, knocking me up with two babies at once—you can help me get them out, can’t you, daddy?”

He groans long and loud, and she puts a hand on his, squeezes hard.

“Don’t. Come. I swear to god if you come inside me right now, it will be the last time you ever do it.”

He comes, but luckily for him, she comes first. “So, tell us which is which,” Garcia leads, visibly excited, and she leans back against Aaron’s body, looks at the sweet baby girl in his arms.

“This one is Camila,” she says, touching her teeny tiny little foot, “and Spencer’s holding Mia. Mia Clarita Hotchner Cortes—Clarita after my mother—and Camila Marie Hotchner Cortes.”

“Marie after my mother,” Aaron explains, and he puts an arm around her, which she snuggles happily against. “We’re just waiting for Jack—he should be here any minute.” Spencer hands Mia back to her, and she kisses her forehead.

“This is the best day of your mama’s life,” she coos, touching her soft, dark, fuzzy baby hair. Her heart swells. “I was going to become daddy’s next unsub if you little cuties didn’t vacate my uterus in a timely fashion.”

She can hear the squeak of Jack's shoes coming through the door, and she looks up at Aaron with a grin. When Jack comes around the bed and sees the girls, his eyes get big. “Whoa, are these my sisters?” Haley pops in behind him, and she smiles at them.

“Yeah, buddy, come here,” she says, gesturing for him with her free arm. “This is Mia, and this is Camila.”

“Gentle like we practiced,” Aaron reminds him when he reaches out to touch Camila’s face, and she and Haley both roll their eyes, then laugh.

“He knows, sweetie.” She watches their interaction with so much love, then brushes her fingers over Jack’s hair. “You’re going to be the best brother bear ever, aren’t you?” He looks up at her, grins; he’s missing a tooth just to the left of the front ones, and she’s obsessed with that little gap.

“Yep, I’m going to read them stories and share my toys and play with them at the park.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” Aaron says, leaning down to look into his eyes. “And so are we, buddy.” “And do you, Aaron Hotchner—”

“Da-ah-addy!” someone sobs—Mia, she mouths to Aaron across from her—and she sees JJ step out from behind her, trying to soothe her so they can proceed, but she’s not having any luck. Mia is a daddy’s girl, and the fact that she can see him, but she’s not in his arms, is like a mortal sin to her.

She gets it, she really does. She felt that way every day for two years.

When it’s obvious she’s not calming down, the officiant clears her throat and tries again, but Mia’s wailing just gets louder. Aaron smiles, shrugs.

“Sorry. It’s okay—here, Mia, daddy’s right here,” he assures, reaching out to take her from JJ, and he wipes her eyes, her red nose, and bounces her on his hip for a moment until she settles. She shoots them what she’s sure is a sickeningly sweet glance and then turns around and asks for Camila; Emily hands her off with a big smile.

Aaron grins when she puts her on her hip, and he reaches behind him for his best man, Jack, encourages him to come forward so he’s standing between them. She smiles at him, touches his face, and nods at the officiant, who takes a deep breath and proceeds.

“Do you, Aaron Hotchner, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” They opted not to write their own vows, because their vows are living, breathing things between them, three perfect little heartbeats. Anything more felt unnecessary.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Virginia, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” He does, so well she thinks she might get pregnant again, and then they each kiss their three babies, and she silently marvels over the fact that all it took was being clobbered over the head with a fire extinguisher for her life to end up this perfect. “Did you know that your chance of having a second set of fraternal twins jumps to 12% after you’ve had the first?” Spencer asks as they’re gathered in the briefing room one morning. She and Aaron are standing up front, pressed close together, nodding patiently. “And considering they run in your family, and that your brother has two sets of fraternal twins, I’d say that statistically the odds are more likely doubled.”

She looks over at Aaron, whose eyes are filled with love and awe and also some pretty sexy other things, and then pulls the ultrasound image out from the little envelope, holds it out for the team to see.

In unison, they answer, “We know.”

They get a package in the mail later that week: One Jack-sized t-shirt—Brother Bear #1—and two tiny t-shirts—Sister Bear #3 and Brother Bear #2. She and Aaron stop by the hospital to visit a friend after surgery and she can't resist walking past the maternity ward. Something about seeing all of those brand new, healthy, happy babies rejuvenates her after a tough case, and the one they'd finished up earlier in the week had been one of the toughest.

A woman comes to stand beside her as she looks at the babies, wearing sweatpants and a hospital gown—she's maybe 30, so just a few years younger—and she smiles brightly at the woman. "New mom?"

"Yeah, she's the one right there," the woman says with a grin, pointing to a sweetly sleeping little girl. "Isn't she perfect?"

"They're all perfect," she sighs, "but she is very beautiful. Congratulations." The woman's smile turns warmer, softer.

"Thank you. Do you have any children?" She's so wrapped up in the dreamy haze of little babies wiggling their toes that she almost doesn't hear the question.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, five of them: Adrian, Isabella, Mia, Camila, and Jack." The woman's eyes go extremely wide, and she laughs, because she's so very used to that. Aaron steps up on her other side, wraps an arm around her waist.

"Thought I might find you here," he says, and he smiles politely at the woman, who's looking like she may never open her legs again. "Can't resist looking at the babies."

"I just love babies," she says sweetly, and she stretches up for a kiss. "Do you ever think we should have another, just to even it out?"

"Hmm. Yes, but knowing us, they'll be twins again, so it's probably best we stick with five." He bends for another kiss, and she pulls him close; when she remembers where they are, she pulls back, to shoot the new mom a sheepish smile, but she's already gone. She sighs.

"Fair enough. But do you want to go home and practice anyway?"

[pascalpanic]

Okay hi I’m back with an IDEA☄️

So. I’ve been thinking about how stubborn javi would be with his feelings. Like maybe he’s being messing around with this girl and he knows he has feelings for her and she knows it too but both of them are so stubborn so they go out of their way just getting under each other’s skin.

Like imagine they’re at a bar with steve and she’s just flirting around and dancing with guys all the while shooting him bedroom eyes and he’s just there BROODING AND ANGRY n Steve is just like “you guys are so insufferable” UGH

aaaaaaa i love this so much!! here we are:

Always Been Yours (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Javier doesn’t take kindly to having his dance partner stolen from him.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, lots of bad flirting, mentions of sex and sexual topics but nothing too explicit, Javier is his own warning. alcohol and cigarettes.

A/N:  ☄️ anon you have done it again!! this was so much fun to write I hope it’s what you were thinking!!

Restraint is one of Javier’s best qualities. He can hold back when he needs to, save his emotions until they’re all too much then channel them out by fucking or drinking them away. He does it often, in fact. Sometimes, that restraint is too strict. Javier never allows himself to relax, never allows himself the luxury of feeling the powerful emotions his mind creates. 

This restraint can sometimes transfer over even when Javier doesn’t mean to. He wants to let loose, he really does, but he physically can’t most of the time. Contrary to the men at work who tell him he’s too impulsive, he’s an overthinker. He mentally runs every possible outcome of any situation he’s in. He just picks the more dangerous options sometimes.

Javier holds back his emotions even more when it comes to romance. He sleeps around quite a bit, does what he pleases with whomever he chooses. It’s not because he lacks feelings or attachment, it’s because he fears them both. He knows what he did to Lorraine hurt her immensely. He never wants to hurt someone again, and so he avoids romantic relationships. 

He fell for you when he met you. It was as plain and simple as that. When you moved your cardboard box into the desk in the corner of his and Murphy’s bullpen, his eyes were drawn to you. You had such an elegant and beautiful walk, he noticed. Your head was held high, your hips swayed like you were dancing. When you shook his hand, when he felt your soft fingers in his calloused palm, he was fucked. 

He flirted with you. Of course he did. That’s how Javier does things. The flirting was subtle and quiet, not loud and brash like he normally was. He told you he loved those earrings, that that blouse was really beautiful. It always tied back to how beautiful you were. 

It escalated when he realized you were into him too. You’d flirt back shamelessly, telling him that you wished you were involved with the narcos so that he'd pay more attention to you. He’d shoot back that you weren’t looking right, because his eyes were always trained on you. Steve made a vomiting noise at that and left for more coffee. “You’re just jealous he’s flirting with me and not you, Murphy,” you called out after him. You looked back at Javi with a devilish grin, and he shot one back in return.

That’s how your relationship has been going this time. You’re down hard for Javier, completely entranced by him. When he talks about cases, you have a hard time listening. Your eyes trace his biceps, the way they bulge against the sleeves of his shirt. You make snarky comments just to see the fire in his eyes ignite again.

Javier really wants to ask you out, he does. But he fears it’s unprofessional. He fears that you just want to hook up with him, and he likes you too much to do something like that. He wants you fully, in an all-consuming way. 

You really like him, but you fear the same from him. His reputation precedes him, and you know all about Javier’s habits. You know he sleeps with informants to get information in those quiet moments after the work is done. You know he flirts with anything in a skirt around the office, and has slept with a decent number of those women too. Javier is a tornado, tearing through women faster than they can recover. If that’s not enough for him, you know he loves to frequent certain brothels in the area. You notice the sneaking way some of the girls there will grab his arm and murmur something as he walks past, the way he’s far too into it for being on the job. They know him by name sometimes. He knows them too. 

As much as you want to be with Javier, you don’t want to be with the womanizer. You want to be with him in the early hours of the morning, want to tighten his tie for him before you walk into work together. You want to make him laugh and want him to stay with you and hold you after the events of the night. 

You’re practical though. That’s not really who Javier is. You know that as well as you know the man. You want him in any way you can get him, really. That means you’re willing to just sleep with him. You’d take a night with him over never touching him at all. 

Drinks after work are a common occurrence for you, Steve, and Javier. All three of you need the assistance of alcohol to relax after the chaos that is working for the DEA. The two men order beers, and you order a strong cocktail the bar you frequent is known for.

Tonight is a rare night where Connie is out of town. You and Javier, the two single ones, demanded that the three of you absolutely must go to the club. It’s a Friday night, you got off work early for once, and you want to let loose. Steve reluctantly agreed, and now you’re sitting in the backseat while Steve drives you and Javier. 

As you enter the club, the music is loud and the bass pounds. You whoop excitedly and wander into the dance floor. Steve and Javier find barstools and sit. 

You return after that initial song ends, resting one arm on Javier’s shoulder. They ordered a drink for you, the one they know you love. “Aw, thank you guys,” you coo and rest your head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, kid. You haven’t even had anything to drink yet and you’re acting like this?” The blonde scoffs and looks down at you.

You frown. “Steve, come on. It’s a Friday night, I’m with my favorite guy, and Javier is here too. How couldn’t I be this happy?”

Javier rolls his eyes at you. “Thanks for that, princesa,” he murmurs as he sips at his whiskey.

The three of you remain at the bar for a while, chatting and laughing. Eventually, a song comes on that you know Javier loves. “Alright, you big buzzkill,” you laugh and grab Javier’s strong bicep. “Come dance with me.” 

Javi groans as he stands and sets down his glass. “Fine. Only because you look so good tonight,” he mumbles to you.

Once you reach the floor, his arms wrap around your waist and yours encircle his neck. His hips start moving against yours to the music and you shudder, bare arms prickling in the humid air of the club. You rest your face in the curve of his neck as you dance, both of you moving your feet in perfect time with the other. 

He’s a wonderful dancer, you already knew, but something about it is extremely intimate. Your bodies, which have long desired the other’s, are flush against each other. He can feel your tits pressing into his chest and one of your hands slides up into his hair, toying with the waves it finds there. He uses all of the power he physically has to stop the blood from flowing straight to his dick. 

“You’re good at this,” you mumble into his ear.

“Only because it’s you I’m dancing with.”

Your time in Javier’s arms doesn’t last long. You dance more separately now, one hand of his still on your waist. It all shifts when another man puts a hand on your hip and turns you his way. “Can I steal you away?” He asks. He’s handsome, dark hair and dark eyes. He’s tall, taller than Javi. You don’t want anyone but your DEA agent, but this presents a wonderful opportunity. 

“Of course,” you nod and he twirls you into his arms, wrapping one arm around you and taking one of your hands in his.

Javier watches in disbelief at the ease the man had in taking you from him. You’re now pressed to this random man’s chest, one hand resting over his heart. You giggle at something he murmurs to you and your body is pressed tight against his. 

Javier stalks off back to the bar, sitting back down next to Murphy and slamming his whiskey. “Another one,” he calls from the bartender, who has another glass tumbler sitting in front of the man in a matter of seconds.

He watched you from the bar with a growing fire in his eyes. The way your hips moved was like the spinning of a hypnotist’s wheel, drawing him in until he couldn’t look away. You were passed around from man to man, grinning and laughing the entire time. You were having fun, that much was clear, and it almost made Javier feel bad for the jealousy that burned a pit in his stomach. He lights a cigarette to dull the want he feels for you.

Your partner spins you around and you lock eyes with Javier. They’re trained on you, they have been the whole night. You smirk a little before continuing the turn, wrapping yourself into your partner’s chest as he pulls you along across the floor. 

Steve rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his beer. “For the love of fuckin’ Christ, Peña. Either quit staring at her like that or go fuckin’ get her from that man.”

Javier glares back at Steve. “Shut the fuck up. You’re supposed to be my wingman, not to fucking yell at me.”

“You need to be yelled at. I am being your wingman. In my professional opinion, as a man who’s fucking married to a woman who played the hard-to-get deal, you need to go show her that you actually do like her or she’s gonna end up going home with that fucker.”

Steve always gives Javier the tough love he needs. He groans as he realizes that Steve is probably right. He needs to go do something now. You lock eyes with him and give him your best teasing smile, your eyes showing everything. You’re having fun, but if Javier comes and stops you, you’d let him do whatever the fuck he wants. “Come get me,” you mouth to the man before resting your head against your partner’s chest, laughing and swaying along with him. 

Javier downs his second whiskey and stands. “Fuck it.”

“Atta boy,” Steve laughs and claps him on the back. “I’m telling you now, I’m not driving the two of you home if you’re gonna be making out in the backseat.”

Javier smirks and stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bar. “I live close enough to walk.” He cracks his neck and makes his way out into the rainbow-colored chaos that is the crowded dance floor. 

You’re hard to find in a sea of people, all of them twirling and moving. Some women have their heads on their partner’s chest, making it even harder to find you. Javier finds the last man who held you in his arms, the one wearing a green shirt. He’s got someone else now. 

Javier is caught by surprise when two arms wrap around his neck and his naturally find their way to rest on the hips of the person: you. “Hey, Peña,” you grin at him, one hand resting on his chest. “Sorry I got pulled away.”

“No you’re fucking not,” the man laughs, moving you along to the music.

“I am,” you refute him, frowning a little. “I wanted to dance with you, but I figured I’d give the other guys a shot. Especially since you’re taking your sweet ass time with me.”

Javier’s eyes darken slightly. “They should’ve realized you’re mine.”

You look up at him, tilting your head and eyes narrowing. “Oh, I’m yours?”

He shakes his head. “We both can tell. You know that, know what’s between us.”

“No clue what you’re talking about.”

“Can I show you, then?” He offers. 

You nod, scrunching your nose. “Do your worst, Javi.”

He cups the side of your face with one large hand and kisses you deeply. You gasp in surprise, even though you knew it was coming. It’s warm and perfect, Javier’s strong arms holding you in place.

The rest of the dance floor twirls and moves along, but you and Javier have stopped moving. Your feet are planted firmly to the ground, arms wrapped around him like an anchor point in a sea of people. He kisses you harder and you allow it, kissing him back just as deeply. He tastes like whiskey and you taste like the fruity cocktail you drank earlier. Normally, the two would taste awful combined, but it doesn’t matter because now it tastes like you and Javier and anything with him included is the most delicious thing you’ve ever had the pleasure of gracing your tastebuds.

He breaks away a moment later. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asks teasingly.

“Not if you want me in your bed tonight,” you flirt right back. You can feel the apples of your cheeks warming with a rush of blood from the kiss, from what you’re insinuating, from the alcohol and from the movement on the floor.

“I don’t. I just want you in my arms and maybe on my lips some more.”

You look up at him, truly astounded. “I thought you’d just want to fuck me and be done,” you admit honestly as you push back a strand of dark brown hair that fell into his face while the two of you moved.

“I don’t want that,” he shakes his head still breathless from the kiss. “I want you to be mine. I wanna take my time with you, and yeah I wanna fuck you, but I wanna date you properly and bring you flowers and walk you home late at night, and then I wanna rail you into the mattress so hard all you can feel is me. But that can wait. For now, I just wanna dance with you and tell you that I really like you. Have for a while now.”

You’re grinning ear to ear at his words. “Really?” You ask.

“No,” he deadpans. “I just said all that shit for fun.” 

“Your sarcasm is really annoying when I’m trying to be sweet and sincere with you.”

He sighs. “Yes, really, princesa. I just want you to be mine.”

The grin on your face only widens, your heart in your eyes as you look at him. “You don’t need to want it. I’m already yours. Didn’t you say that?” The music changes into a new song, something slower and sultry. “Ooh, I love this one,” you sing to Javi, forcing him along so that the two of you are once again dancing. “I’ve always been yours, Javi,” you admit, your thumb softly tracing the side of his neck from where your hand rests on his shoulder. “Since the moment we met. I really like you.”

“I really like you too, dulzura,” he murmurs and kisses you again. It’s not all-consuming or hot and sloppy like the last one. It’s warm and chaste with only the purest of intentions, Javier’s hands gripping your waist a little softer. 

He gets carried away by the way your lips meet his. One of his feet steps on your toes, exposed by the heels you’re wearing. “Fuck,” you cry and wince. 

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, instinctually taking a step back from you so that he can’t possibly do it again.

You smile up at him softly as the pain subsides. “It’s alright. Maybe we’ll just need to get you some dancing lessons,” you tease and pull him close again.

You spend the rest of the song like that, slowly swaying along. Javier’s arms wrap around your waist, and he softly kisses the side of your head a few times. Eventually, your head finds its way to his shoulder, where it rests as Javier quietly mumbles the lyrics of the song to you. 

He’s not very good at it, and he’d be the first to admit it, but it’s beautiful when he’s soft and quiet. He’s doing it just for you, this quiet act of intimacy. You press a kiss to the skin of his neck when the song ends and he hums a chuckle. “My girl,” he murmurs and kisses you one last time. “Let’s go home.”

-

taglist: 

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867

[vibesandwonders]

a tie that binds

Rhodey looks between the two of them; both grinning with unsettling glee. They barely waited for him to retract his helmet before making their request.

“How did you even know I can legally—”

“We’re past that.” Sam interrupts, he’s bleeding from a cut above his eye. Bucky notices it with an eye roll, and, —quite literally— slaps a bandage on it. “We just wanna know if you’ll do it.”

“And if you say no we’ll post about it.” Bucky adds. The buildings behind them smoke. Local authorities had been given the all-clear and are already raiding and arresting. “Instagram and Twitter will come for your ass.” He says with scary confidence.

Rhodey’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. “You serious?” He asks.

“As a heart attack.”

“As the fuckin’ grave.” They answer in a horrifying tandem.

“Right here?” He watches Bucky move a knife from the inside of his wrist to his ankle for no visible reason. Sam’s only half-listening as Torres and Doppler give up-to-the-minute updates on the situation post-raid.

“Why not?” Buck asks.

Rhodey gives a half hearted gesture at their surroundings.

“We were gonna do a big thing.” Sam says, by way of explanation, “You know, invite all of our closest friends.”

“Enemies too.” Bucky adds, “Give ‘em a solid chance to take a potshot. Maybe take a couple of them down, kind of a two-for-one deal.”

“Wedding present to each other. Good shit like that.” Sam finishes. “But then Barnes here took an armor piercing round to the shoulder.” Bucky turns and shows the massive tear in his jacket on the vibranium arm side.

“And we figured. Life is short,” Sam says.

“—And you are hot.” Bucky quotes with a cheeky tilt to his mouth.

“We’ve been watching Doctor Who ,” Sam explains quickly to Rhodey.

“It’s been around almost as long as me.” Bucky says proudly. “I get to explain pop-culture references to Sam.”

“Research for the time/universe bullshit.”

“Timey-wimey—”

“ Please stop ,” Rhodey begs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And frankly, I don’t want you to explain.” He adds quickly. “I like not being a nerd-ass virgin.” Cuts himself off when he suddenly remembers that he’s somehow officiating their wedding; and has very-recently been witness to their oblivious R-rated behavior. A muscle in his eye twitches.

Sam blinks, then plows ahead unbothered. “Might as well make it official while we’re both young and have all our pieces.”

“Mostly,” Bucky reminds him, waves casually with his prosthetic, waggling his fingers dramatically.

“Fuck you, jackass.” Sam mouths happily. Bucky flips him off.

“Ya’ll got a real messed up thing going.” Rhodey says, reminding them that he’s definitely still in the middle of all this.. “But uh congratulations, I think, Future Wilsons? Barneses?”

There’s the pop of gunfire in the distance. All three heads snap that way, three sets of hands going for various weapons.

“So you’ll do it?” Sam asks, when a quick radio signal indicates that the situation was safe again. They can see the glow of some sort of magic still inside the building.

Fucking multiverse.

“I mean…” Rhodes sighs. “Yeah.”

Sam nods. “You mind if I facetime Sarah and the kids?”

“You’re kidding right?” Rhodey knows the answer. “She can’t be a witness if she’s not physically present—”

“Yeah.” Bucky acknowledges, “We know. I googled it.”

Sam looks pleased and surprised. “When?”

“After we finished clearing out the cult members inside the entry-way.” He shrugs, “There was a lull.”

“I knew getting you that phone was a good idea.”

Rhodey clears his throat. Bucky throws up his hand, “Yeah yeah, I remember, witnesses. Uh…” He looks around, makes eye-contact with a helmeted figure; rattles off something in quick, confident hungarian. Sam fights the urge to find it distractingly hot and fails. The man in SWAT gear stops, halting the prisoner in front of him. Rhodey and Sam wait for the conversation to end. Bucky’s speaking fast and grinning sort of sheepishly. There’s a quick bark of laughter from beneath the helmet.

“He says he’ll witness.” Bucky says.

“I now pronounce you husband and hus—”  There’s a breathtaking flash of color that they’ve all begun to recognize as magic and/or multiverse fuckery, of course,  it comes from over where the Multiverse cult had been performing their ritual, cutting off Sunny’s quick, joyful cheer. She’s holding Alpine and waving her little paws in her little videochat square. Zahra adds something over comms in persian and it makes Bucky blush.

“Ah fuck.” Sam murmurs, “Can’t give us five goddamn minutes to get hitched?”

Bucky squeezes his hand. “Could just let Strange and his people handle it?”

“Look at you acting like you wanna miss out on all the fun.” Sam rolls his eyes. “Sarah?” He says to the screen that the hungarian SWAT officer is holding. “We gotta go."

“Be safe you two,” she says all pixelated. “Or I'll kick your asses.”

Bucky waves and thanks the soldier who hands him his phone and kisses them both unexpectedly on the cheek.

Rhodey watches the whole thing in barely suppressed horror and fascination.

“You ready Cap?” He asks. Sam’s wings unfurl next to him. Torres is saying something about a big-ass, post-wedding party when they get home.

“You two have rings? Or is this uh, a purely gentleman’s handshake kinda deal?”

Sam scratches his head. “Well, uh—”

Bucky shyly pulls a small box from somewhere and tosses it to Sam. “I mighta called in a favor with Shuri—”

Sam opens it, finds a slim band made of a familiar gold metal. Bucky pulls his glove off and wiggles his fingers.

“Figured this’d be easier,” he says. Pointing smugly at the link of metal that had been swapped for gold on his left ring finger. “She took one outta my hand and made yours.” He adds. “I’ve just been uh, waiting for the right moment.”

“Ya’ll done?” Rhoday says tiredly.

Sam winks, pulls Bucky in for a kiss that makes Rhodey groan with annoyance and avert his eyes; slips him a little tongue just to be annoying. Torres (and the rest of the Little Howlers) whoop over the comms. He pulls back. Both now a little breathless, can’t resist, goes in for another. Shorter. Sweeter. The edge of Bucky’s mouth quirks up.

He tilts, looks a little past Sam’s face, pulls a pistol and fires a shot off behind them. Rhodey watches a figure fall from a hidden vantage point too-far for any normal human to hit. The barrel smokes softly.

Sam’s eyes darken, mouth dry. He swallows.

Honestly. Murder Husband hot.

Husband.

And there are no other thoughts for a solid 5 seconds.

“We are in active combat.” Rhodey reminds them, mostly for his sake. They separate hesitantly.

“Don’t do any dumb shit and make me a young widow, okay Barnes?” Sam calls over his shoulder, and then he’s blazing toward a wide wall of shimmering power starting to erode and expand out of the building. Bucky rolls his eyes at Rhodey and takes off running, calling after the winged silhouette.

“It’s young widower asshole.”

I'm on ao3 too :)

the series here

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

[lue-arlert]

Summary: June meets a stranger during an unfavorable situation with her boyfriend—they form a closeness that is quite soon broken by the discovery of Jean’s true identity; just as quickly as it’s broken, it’s pieced back together, only for an old acquaintance to become a sudden imposition.

WC: 3.9k

Chapter content warnings: OC content, modern au, ‘fantasy’ au, possessive behaviors, non/dubcon (18+ MDNI), domestic abuse (physical and emotional, not a lot but it’s there), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of marriage, hints at entrapment (if I missed something I’m sorry, please let me know)

Domestic Violence Hotlines:

US: 1-800-799-SAFE

International: https://www.mysticmag.com/psychic-reading/domestic-violence-resource-guide/

A/N at the end of the chapter

Previous Chapter 1 Next

Encounters of the Strange Kind

Green nail polish stained the gray scarf-styled skirt hanging from June’s hips, her efforts to remove it only ruining the fabric.

“Goddammit,” she grumbled, tossing the rag into the sink. “Fucking kidding me…”

She shimmied the knee length apparel off her body and pitter-pattered to her dresser to grab a pair of black pants, torn at the calf to expose her gray and black striped crew socks.

“June!” A male voice called from the first floor. “Are you ready or no?”

“In a second!” She didn’t have time to do her hair proper, so instead she grabbed a green scrunchie and tied a messy bun on the back of her head, then fixed her nose ring to sit correctly in her nostril.

“Hurry, we’re gonna be late!”

“I know!” She checked the underside of her wrist to read the time on her shitty leather watch.

Once her hair was nice and tight on her scalp, she scurried down the stairs and grabbed her zip-up hoodie.

“What happened to your skirt?” Her boyfriend finished buckling his belt as he watched her stick her arms into the black sleeves.

“I spilled nail polish on it.”

“I spent so much money on that skirt.” He dropped his shoulders and stared at her.

“I’ll find a way to fix it.” She said timidly, sliding her feet into the loose canvas shoes.

“Whatever, let’s go.”

They were spending the evening on a date for their anniversary—together for eighteen months, and madly in love.

Their dinner was simple, a roadside diner where June ate chicken tenders and Todd ate a burger.

Afterwards, a movie. The local theater was playing a rerun of the movie they saw on their first date, a cheesy 80’s horror flick that played randomly when new box office movies weren’t attainable by the small, family owned business.

Todd had his arm around June, gently caressing the skin under her collarbone. “You smell nice.” He whispered to her as he leaned into her ear.

“I’m wearing the cologne you gave me.” She smiled at him with a blush. The scent was a woodsy one, with a hint of wildflowers.

He grinned back and kissed her softly, bringing his hand to her jaw. A chuckle vibrated from his lips when the Wilhelm scream from the speakers indicated a sleazy teenager was being ripped apart by the bad guy.

June giggled back and touched her fingers to his hand.

Todd licked her lips and brought his hand down to her leg. “You shouldn’t have ruined your skirt,” he grumbled on her mouth.

“I said I was sorry,” she whispered in response.

“Mm.” He mumbled in annoyance and touched his fingers into the upper inside of her thigh.

“Todd, not here.” She pulled her face from his and grabbed his wrist. “We’re in public.”

“I don’t care, I wanna try something new.” He kissed her again and rubbed his thumb over her center. “It’s been boring lately.”

“Todd, stop, I’m serious.” She shoved his hand away and glanced around—no one had seen them, thankfully.

He clicked his tongue and sat back in his seat, taking his arm from around her shoulders.

When the movie ended, they walked out, hand in hand, discussing it as if it was their first time having seen it.

Todd stopped and looked around, before pulling her into an alley just blocks away from the theater.

“Todd, what’s with you tonight?” June looked over her shoulder to find no one walking the streets behind them.

“I just want to make love to you, baby.” He whined, turning and taking her hands as he walked backwards and gazed at her, his hood pulled up over his head.

“We can do that at my house, why do you wanna do it in an alleyway?” She stumbled into his chest when he stopped and stared up at him, her hands on his abdomen.

“Something new, I told you!” He grinned and pushed her hoodie from her shoulders to rest around her elbows and let his eyes wander over her torso, clothed by a black tank top blouse. “I love that shirt.”

“You bought it for me, I hope so.” June blushed and lifted her hand to his neck, giving him a tender kiss.

He roughly wrapped his arms around her waist and shoved her against the wall of the building to his left, returning the kiss.

“Todd,” she muffled against his mouth. “I’m nervous.”

He ignored her and unbuttoned her pants, shoving them down with her hipster-style underwear.

“Todd!”

“I promise you’ll feel good baby, it’ll be worth it.” He moved his mouth down to her neck and shoved his hand between her legs.

She whimpered, but allowed him to finger her for several minutes until he turned her around and pressed her hands to the wall beneath his.

Todd leaned against her back and kissed her ear just beneath her helix ring. “Ready, baby?”

She nodded, but began to cry now that her face was away from his. Her eyes shut tightly at the sound of his belt unbuckling, some ruffling of fabric, then she whined as he entered her, her body not fully prepared for him.

Minutes went by, but it felt like nearly an hour. June cried quietly to herself, holding back her hiccups. This wasn’t the first time he made her cry while having sex, but she loved him and always shrugged it off. She knew nothing else, never having a boyfriend aside from some high school crushes. Being single from ages seventeen to twenty-three left her unaware of how a relationship really worked. She was not a social girl, only ever having spent time with her older brother August, who raised her from age twelve.

Suddenly, he pulled out of her and there was a stumbling noise and a surprised grunt.

June turned while squatting to grab her pants and gasped at Todd lying on his back.

Then, a man knelt before her and touched her cheek. “Are you okay, miss?”

She whimpered and pulled her pants to her knees to try covering herself. “I’m fine,” she breathed.

“Did he hurt you?”

“N-no…” However, there was hesitation in her voice.

The honey-eyed man nodded at her while knowing she lied, his ashy brown hair falling around his eyes. “Okay. Can I help with anything?”

“Please leave.” She squeaked and glanced to Todd, still on his back. “Did you kill him?”

“He’s just unconscious. He’ll wake up if you shake him.”

“Please leave.” June repeated, her shoulders and arms shaking.

“If you say so.” He nodded again and smiled politely to her, then stood and walked away further into the alley before disappearing behind the building.

June stared to where he went, her chest heaving, then quickly pulled her pants up and fumbled to buckle her belt, then knelt beside her boyfriend.

“Todd,” she whispered, shaking him.

He stirred and looked up at her, blinking quickly. “Junie?”

“Let’s go home.” She hastily buttoned his pants and pulled him from the ground, linking her arm in his as she dragged him away.

“What happened?”

“You fell,” was all she said.

After dropping Todd off at his apartment and tucking him into bed, she went home to her own and quickly went inside, shutting and locking the door.

June took a hot shower, scrubbing every inch of her skin that she could reach until her body was red—this was either due to the immense heat of the water or the pressure she applied from her shower poof.

As she brushed her hair, she couldn’t get rid of the image of that man’s eyes from her mind. She’d never seen a light hazel color quite like it, how it gleamed and shown even in the darkness of the late evening. It was like there was a perpetual candle glowing in his irises.

She pulled herself under her blanket, dampening the pillow and her cheeks with her hair and pulled her stuffed rabbit into her tightly.

The fear she felt in the alley came waving back over her, and she let out her scared tears, burying her face into the plushie.

June ate her lunch in the break room of her work, her black bangs falling from her bun and into her eyes while she bit into her sandwich.

Her dark gray dress suit hugged her wide hips and shoulders, sometimes becoming uncomfortable if she ate too large of lunch—which made her settle on a small chicken salad sandwich for today.

“Juniper, you got five minutes.” Her boss poked his head in and tapped his watch.

“I know.” She replied exasperated.

Dusting the sandwich crumbs from her hands over the nearby trash can, she stood and left the room, her heels clacking against the tile floor until she made it to her reception desk.

She worked for a local doctor’s office that doubled as a blood bank, one held with high regards within the city.

She was working the evening shift tonight, with the number of doctors within the practice, there could be several on staff to keep the building open at all hours of the day, operating nearly like a hospital.

While punching in numbers and scanning cards at her computer, she could see someone out of the corner of her eye approaching the desk. “One moment, I’ll be right with you.”

After she completed her task, she turned with a smile to greet the person, but her face fell at the sight of familiar, gleaming hazel eyes gazing down at her.

“Ho-how can I help you?” She blinked.

He smiled kindly and stared intensely into her eyes as his hair framed his own. “I’m here to pick up the blood that’s to be sent to Rose Memorial.”

June blinked again then furrowed her brows in confusion. “I—I’m sorry?”

He frowned. “The, um… there should be an order of blood that needs to be transferred to Rose Memorial.”

“In Trost?”

“Yes.” He nodded slowly.

“I, um, let me check on that.” She skeptically looked over his semi-formal attire of a brown button up shirt and black trousers, then back up to his eyes, before scurrying out of her circular cubicle and click-clacked her way into the back offices.

“Is there an order of blood to go out to Rose Memorial?” She kept her hand on one of the office doors.

A perky nurse nodded at her and stood from her desk, leading her to a cart of chilled blood pouches, ranging in types in each cooler box. “These are ready to go to Rose Memorial, for usage of patients who need blood transfusions and the like.” She grinned what was almost a forced grin.

“Uh-huh.” June paused with uncertainty, then grabbed the dolly handles. “Thanks, Betsy.”

“Of course! We’re happy to help out our fellow doctors and hospitals in any town or city.”

“... Right.” Confused, June continued on with the dolly and brought it out into the lobby, grabbing the clipboard that was tucked between two of the coolers. Once she stopped in front of the man, giving him a suspicious glance, she ran her eyes over the paper and found the same signature, illegible, and monthly dates scribbled on the lines. There was a blank one for the pattern to fall under today’s date.

“Here ya go.” She passed the clipboard over to him and he signed away, passing it back. “And your name?” She asked.

“Jean Kirstein.” He flashed an awkward smile, then quickly turned to leave.

June was confused, but shrugged it off and took the clipboard back to Betsy before returning to her desk.

‘Jean Kirstein’? What an Ann Rice name.

She glanced around the lobby to see if anyone was paying her any mind, then popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth.

“Todd, can you please drop it?” June plucked her heels from her sore feet and turned to look at him as she wiggled her freed toes.

“What do you mean, ‘drop it’? You’re out here being all legs at your job, how do you think men are looking at you?” He followed her into the kitchen, his hands dropping to his thighs. “Do you really not think this is an issue?”

“No, Todd, I have to wear stuff like this to work.” June scoffed and dropped her shoes by the back door attached to the kitchen. “I don’t know why you have such an issue with it, it’s not like my ass or tits are hanging out.”

“May as well be.” He stepped up to her and smacked her butt, causing her to jump with a sharp gasp. “Look at how short this skirt is!”

“It’s as long as the gray skirt you bought me, what are you talking about?” She looked down at the pencil skirt that stopped at her knees.

“Junie, please, please just promise me you'll start wearing pants instead of skirts.” Todd pleaded and leaned on the counter next to her where she stood, grabbing a cup from the cabinet.

“I don’t know why this is such a fucking issue, I work mostly with women.” She grabbed a bottle of liquor and poured it into the glass before taking a drink.

“What, no men ever go there? Doctors? Patients?” He bobbed his head at the questions and leaned close to her. “Baby, you’re all mine.” He grabbed her bottom and gave her cheek a shake, bringing his face to her ear. “No one else should look at you.”

“You’re being ridiculous.” June shrugged him away with the glass and bottle still in her hands and walked around him back towards the stairs that were situated in the center of her apartment. “I’m gonna change.”

“Don’t change, just take it all off.” Todd tried to flirt, but it came out as a command.

“Todd, I wanna go to bed, I’ve had a long night.”

“Then lemme stay the night, keep you company.” He cupped his hands under her butt as he followed her up the steps.

“Todd, please.”

“Babe, c’mon.” He followed her to her bedroom around the left corner.

“Todd—” She groaned as she stepped into her room.

“Baby, I still don’t know why I passed out yesterday, but let’s finish where we left off.” He grabbed the hips of her skirt and pulled her to him, kissing the back of her neck.

“Todd, I’m not in the mood.” She tried to shrug him off again, but he wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I am, though. Let’s make a baby.” He whispered seductively into her ear. “I wanna put a baby in you.”

“Todd!” She finally wiggled away from him and sat the glass and bottle on her dresser. “Todd, you think we should have kids at twenty-four-years-old? Do you think that’s a good idea?” She took her suit jacket off her shoulders and laid it carefully over the edge of her laundry basket, scratching a three-year-old tattoo on the underside of her bicep. “We’re not married, we’re not engaged, fuck, we don’t even live together!” And for good reason, she reminded herself.

“It’s alright, let’s make a baby.” He grabbed at her wrist, and when she yanked her arm away, his face grew hard. “Why don’t you want me to touch you?”

“I’m tired. Go home, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?” He stood and stared at her, bewildered. “Babe, what the fuck?”

“Go home, Todd.” She said more sternly.

He huffed and swung his arm up, the back of his hand smacking audibly against her cheek.

June gasped as she fell to her knees on the floor, holding her face. This one stung worse than the last time.

With fake groans of pleasure, and a continuous stream of black mascara tears running out of the corner of her eyes, June laid on her back with her legs crossed around Todd’s hips as he thrusted into her yet again, doing his damndest to make sure he could spill himself inside of her to plant his seed.

As soon as he released, he let out a staggered grunt and fell on top of her, panting with a grin. “Oh, baby, you always feel good.”

“Yeah.” She whispered and rolled her head away from him, the small welt on her face stinging from the cool air kissing her warm skin.

Todd sank himself into the bed next to her and laid on his side, falling asleep just minutes later.

June cried silently while she moved away from him, staring at the reflection of her feet sticking out from her blanket from her mirrored closet doors.

With a sniff, she decided to take a walk while her boyfriend was passed out in her bed.

She slid carefully from the sheets and gathered up a bundle of black clothing, long pants and two long sleeve shirts to keep herself warm in the night air.

Her feet shuffled over the crumbling sidewalks of the city, hands tucked under her arms to keep them from growing cold.

There was barely anyone out, the occasional car and people leaving bars and restaurants, a cat here or there dodging through allies.

June swallowed deeply, staring at her feet as she walked, deciding she needed new shoes.

Her shoulder bumped someone, and she whipped around with a quick apology—meeting those eyes again. “You.” She breathed.

“Um,” the man she’d run into twice now was back before again.

“Are you following me?”

“Follow—? No, I’m sorry.” He shook his head.

“Jean, right?”

“Yes,” he said hesitantly, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“Jean—what was up with the blood thing earlier? You don’t look like you work for Rose Memorial.” She eyed him, glancing at his long, light brown hair, his black-lined eyes that made his irises pop (and honestly, she was excited by this, since she didn’t know any men who wore eyeliner), and his torn black sweater and black trousers with black boots.

“You don’t look like you work for a private doctor’s office and blood bank.” He retorted with a cocky grin, eyeing her back.

She pulled her cardigan tighter around her chest and scrunched her face. “Okay, touché.”

His cocky smile turned victorious.

“So, what was up with that? That’s not the usual procedure for collecting blood for another hospital.”

“It’s a, uh, new procedure.”

“How new? That form you signed went all the way back to September.”

“That new.” He cleared his throat and pulled his hands from his pockets, crossing his arms over his ribs.

She gave him an incredulous look, then shrugged, changing the subject. “How are you not cold?”

He shrugged back. “I’m just not.”

“Alright.” June grumbled. “Well… I’ll see you around I guess.” She began to turn away, but stopped when he touched her shoulder. “What?” When she saw the concern in his face, her brows and lips softened.

Jean kept his hand on her shoulder and lifted the other to her cheek, barely grazing his nail beneath the red mark on her skin. “Who did this to you?” He asked quietly.

“Why do you care?” Though her brows creased again, she didn’t pull away from his gentle touch.

“You’re a woman roaming around at night by herself with what looks like a handprint on her face—am I not supposed to care?” He brought his hand from her shoulder to cradle her other cheek.

His hazel gaze reminded her of the same one he gave her the night after the movies.

“Was it the man who was violating you the other night?”

“My boyfriend—” She stopped herself and backtracked. “I was with my boyfriend the other night. That’s who that was.”

“And he was violating you?”

“He—we wanted to try something new, so…” June bit her cheek, and said, “Why am I telling you? I don’t need to tell you this.”

“Well, you obviously wanna talk about it.” Jean tilted his head with a knowing stare.

“I—I need to leave.” She began to walk around him, but stopped when he touched her arm, his fingers barely wrapping around her bicep.

She turned to look up at him, and he pulled a pen from his pocket, then scribbled on her wrist, his hand gingerly holding the back of hers.

“Call me sometime. If you feel like talking.” He smiled and returned the pen to his pocket, slowly stepping back from her while his fingers grazed hers.

Jaw askew, June watched him walk backwards, staring at her, then turn on his heels.

“Wait!” She called out. “I didn’t tell you my name!”

“Juniper! You wore a name tag yesterday.” He grinned at her one last time over his shoulder and vanished into the night.

Again, her jaw dropped—how silly of her to not realize. With a sigh, she checked her watch and groaned. Nearly 2am, and she needed to be back in her bed before Todd realized she was gone.

“Junie, wake up.” A soft voice cooed, a gentle touch to her chin.

June shifted under her blanket and rolled over to meet Todd’s dull brown eyes—her heart sank that they were the brilliant hazel she had dreamed of. Did she dream of those eyes?

“Hi, Todd.” She grumbled, rubbing her face with the blanket.

“‘Hi, Todd’? No, ‘good morning, baby, love of my life, fiancé, baby daddy’?” He was perched over her with a light scowl.

“What the fuck are you taking about?” June rubbed her face again and glanced up at him with one eye open.

“I put a baby in you last night, remember? Now we can finally get engaged, get married.” He sat on his feet and took her hand from beneath her blanket, hugging it against his chest.

“Todd,” she sighed and sat up, her arm bent awkwardly. “Todd, you know I’m on birth control. You didn’t put a baby in me.”

He frowned heavily and lowered her hand to his belly. “You don’t know that I’m not gonna put the two-percent in you.”

June stared at him for a moment before pulling her arm away. “You didn’t get me pregnant—I would know.”

“How?”

“Women are in tune with their bodies.” She slid her legs over the side of the bed and poked her feet into her fluffy black house slippers. “It’s like a sixth sense.”

“Whatever, we can try again tonight.”

“You know I’m going to my brother’s house tonight, Todd, we can’t.”

“Why not after?”

June groaned internally and plucked her black silk robe from the hook beside her closet, tying it around her waist. “I’ll be there late, it’s a long drive.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Todd!” Her voice came out more firm than she intended, but she sighed again and turned to look at him. “Todd, I don’t wanna have sex tonight. I’m going to be spending time with August, I haven’t seen him in months.”

“So?”

“Todd, you’re getting on my last goddamn nerve, I swear—”

Before she could finish her sentence, he was standing in front of her with his hand squeezing her jaw and cheeks, puckering her lips out.

“June, I swear to god if you talk to me like that again, I’ll give you a matching set of cheeks.” His thumb stroked the still raw spot beside her lip.

June shook in his grasp and nodded. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whimpered.

“That’s my girl.” He smirked and kissed her roughly, still squeezing her cheeks. “So,” he said as he pulled away from her. “Come to my place after you’re done at August’s and we can try making a baby again.”

“Why do you want a baby so bad?” June thought she might regret asking, but the question just… came out.

Todd frowned, but then smiled. “So we can get married.”

She had no response to this, aside from the one in her own mind:

I’m not fucking marrying you.

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A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading! I originally had this as just a plain vampire story, and one day had a desire to turn it into an AOT au. I hope you all enjoy it! I’m always open to feedback, I can be reached through my ask box or my dm’s. It’s not gonna be on a set schedule right now, but I have about 54k words into it, so I’ll post what I have when I can, since I am still actively writing Listen to the Rain. Thanks again for tuning in!

Taglist: @seriouslyprongsies @coffeeforday @lavenderdaisyhoney @sinnerofthewalls @fierydiamond @porcoqalliard @reiner69er