#The one who noticed was another coworker (not Mari).

[coworkerjonathan]

Everyone act surprised, we found a part of the indoor floor curving upwards and when I checked in the basement, the room that would be underneath it was fully walled off.

Saw this written on the walls down there though.

[remlionheart]

Can you do a Chuuya x fem reader where her bra can be shown from her white shirt?

pov: you request a simple spicy lil fic from me, but my manic brain is physically incapable of not giving it an entire backstory and plot and making it at least 4k+ words (thank you so much for this idea tho, it was super fun to write! ღ)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ My first attempt at Chuuya smut (and goddamn, do I love that angry lil man ★~(◡‿◡✿). New to the city, you're coerced into working for the PM after a drunken night out. Scared and now in the heart of one of Japan's most notorious criminal organization's headquarters, you decide to reclaim some of your power by ~*teasing the absolute fuck out of Chuuya Nakahara~*. 4.8k words. Porn with a plot. I can't even lie, this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet while writing, lemme know whatcha think. luv u ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When you'd first moved to Yokohama 2 months ago, you had promised your parents that you'd be safe. That you'd find yourself a decent office job to afford you a lofty apartment and that you'd be settled in relatively quickly. You'd pictured yourself walking amongst tall buildings on your days off. Exploring the city with your coworkers on the weekends. Living instead of just existing in your small hometown.

You thought you had your future all mapped out and maybe you did, but those dreams of normalcy were all but destroyed the night you crossed paths with Koyo Ozaki.

She had noticed you from across the bar, quietly observing the way you'd been drinking by yourself all night. It was odd to see a girl with your beauty and lack of abilities so confidently roaming downtown alone. She wasn't sure if you were brave or naive, but the moment you took a seat next to her to thank her for the whiskey and coke she had ordered you, she realized you were the perfect blend of both.

She'd spent the next hour chatting you up, effortlessly coaxing information out of you without you realizing it. She'd offered you an administrative assistant role for the group she worked for, describing it as a "lucrative" and "underground" organization. You were in no position to say no, especially after spending the last month relentlessly applying to jobs with little to no luck.

You woke up the next day musing about silly things like fate and serendipity as you raided your closet for the perfect first day outfit. You felt like this was your big break. The first stop on the roadmap of adulthood that you'd created for yourself. You ironed a pair all black slacks, pairing it with a white-button up quarter-sleeve shirt, and your favorite suede Mary-Janes. Optimism swirled through your head as you eyed yourself in your bedroom mirror that night. You were determined to be so good at this job.

You showed up freshly showered and prepared when you arrived at the sleek, high-rise building. Ozaki waited for you out front with a rather intimidating dark-haired man who introduced himself as Mori, head of the fucking Port Mafia.

Your anxiety rose with each step you took behind them, quickly realizing that this was not the run-of-the-mill clerical job you had envisioned while hazily chatting with Ozaki over whiskey-neats. This was an underground criminal organization full of some of the strongest ability users in the world. You had absolutely no idea why you were here. Why you'd been selected, let alone trusted, to work alongside these people.

You were given your own small office, equipped with a bare desk and landline phone. Mori told you to stay put, explaining that you were to stay out of sight until further notice. You were essentially there as a cover-up.

Apparently, they'd been scouting for girls like you. New to town and completely clueless. They wanted to bring in a handful of these 'administrative assistants' to help keep up the illusion that this was just another ordinary building in the business district of Yokohama and nothing more.

Mori left you with a curt warning about the temperament of the other Mafia members and a haunting, "Welcome to the team." as he closed the door to your office and disappeared down the long corridor. Your heart was slamming into your chest, your anxiety growing the longer you sat. You were angry. Disappointed in yourself for being such an easy target.

You sat for at least an hour staring at the wall in existential dread, wondering what you'd done to end up here. Wondering what you were going to have to do to get out now that you were here. Even if it wasn't necessarily a "job", it still didn't seem like something you could just casually walk away from.

You were in the middle of the Port Mafia's headquarters and you were rightfully, terrified.

The sound of two muffled voices pulled you away from your thoughts while you froze in your chair, realizing that they were right outside your door.

"You're fuckin' with me, right?"

"No, that's really where they're keeping her. She's going to be a fulltime member."

"A member?" it was the first man again, his voice full of shameless snark and volume as he laughed at the idea. "A Mafia member with no ability? C'mon, Akutagawa. Even Mori isn't that stupid."

"There's going to be more, she's just the first to show up."

Tension crept along your spine when both voices came to a curious stop, one quietly scolding the other before the heavy wooden door began to creak open.

A pair of azure eyes stared back at you, disheveled shoulder-length red hair draping off of one shoulder as he mumbled, "Holy shit."

The taller of the two, draped in a long black coat, tried to pry him away, but he shrugged him off with an irritated. "Chill out, I just wanna introduce myself to her."

The dark-haired man scoffed and continued down the hallway while his ginger companion closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of you looking back at each other skeptically.

Despite his height, he had a powerful demeanor. A blend of apathy and cockiness that exuded off of him as he carefully made his way towards you. "So, you're the new girl, huh?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you looked back at him, your words suddenly stuck in your throat as his foot made contact with your desk.

You managed a nod, remembering the way Mori had advised you not to engage with the other Mafia members, but what were you supposed to do when you were suddenly locked in a room with one?

"God, we really can't just have one normal day around here, can we?" He sighed, almost seeming embarrassed as his shoulders dropped and he leaned against your desk in the spot next to you. "Stealin' girls out of bars? Tch, the hell are they thinkin'?"

His opposition to his boss' plan made you relax a bit. It was the first time all day that you thought you might make it out of here okay.

He picked up on your apprehension rather quickly, taking his hat off and setting it down before extending a gloved hand out to you. "Chuuya." He said simply.

You stared at him for another moment or two before introducing yourself, trying but failing to mimic his nonchalant tone.

"Hey," He said, lightly nudging your foot with his, "You're gonna be alright. I'm sure this gig will only last for a couple of weeks until they move on to their next big, idiotic idea."

"You think so?" It was the first time all day that you felt like you could breathe.

"Trust me, Mori's plans are always changing. He'll probably cut you a fat check for hush money and then send you on your way sooner than later. Just lay low in the meantime, yeah?"

Your eyes were still locked as you nodded at him again, giving him a feeble, "Okay... Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." He smirked, pulling himself away from your desk.

You watched him pause just before exiting the room. He turned around to face you again, his gaze landing a bit lower than your eyes this time.

"And maybe uh -" If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that you saw a flash of red flare across his cheeks. "Maybe don't wear that bra with a white shirt next time."

Out of all of the anxiety and fear that you'd been drowning in over the last few hours, your choice of outfit had been the very last thing you'd considered worrying about until just now.

You looked down, noticing what he meant as you saw the dark, lacy fabric of your Victoria's not-so-secret peeking through the white of your blouse. Your tits were pushed perfectly together, nearly on full display through the sheerness of your shirt.

He flashed you another faint smirk before clicking the door shut, once again leaving you to your own crippling thoughts as your head dropped into your hands.

What an absolutely mortifying first day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few shifts were a blur.

You'd clock in. Sit for what felt like an eternity in your bleak little office. Leave mid-day to grab lunch at a cafe across the street. And then head home 9 hours later despite the fact that you’d hardly done anything.

You'd learned to bring in books and cross-stich patterns to keep yourself busy throughout the day instead of rotting away at your desk. It wasn't an ideal situation, but if Chuuya was right and there really was a big check waiting for you around the corner, you'd decided that it was worth it to see this through. Because no matter how nervous you got each morning, the painful truth was that you couldn’t afford to turn down easy money.

By the end of the week, you found yourself doing more than just sneaking in romance mangas to make the job more bearable though. You were doing everything you could to gain back even a semblance of power.

If you had to be here, you had decided that you were going to make it everyone's problem.

With the ginger's words still fresh in your mind, you made it a point to wear darker bras. Tighter blouses. Shorter skirts that barely covered your ass. It had almost become an inside joke with yourself at what a distraction you'd become to the Port Mafia. Maybe couldn’t make these men fear you, but you could certainly make them trip all over themselves any time you entered the building.

You'd hardly been able to keep a straight face yesterday afternoon when Akutagawa's coffee fell from his hands and cascaded around him after he saw you walking down the hall in black knee-high stockings. You'd finally managed to make everyone here as uncomfortable as they'd made you and it felt good.

You were half-way through the iced matcha you'd picked up on lunch, sitting with your feet propped up on your desk as you continued to embroider the word "fuck" in pretty, cursive letters next to a pink and yellow flower when a knock arrived at your door.

You quickly stashed the circular cross-stitch pad in one of the desk drawers and straightened your back as Tachihara poked his head into your office. "Yo, new girl. Nakahara wants to see you."

Your brows knitted together as you looked back at him in quiet confusion.

No one had ever requested to see you in the time that you'd been here. Even in your attempts to disrupt their daily tasks, they'd still not bothered to learn your name. But now... you were expected to go see Chuuya... in his office?

"Why?" It was the only question you could think to ask.

"Dunno," Tachihara shrugged. "but I wouldn't keep him waiting. He's kind of an asshole." And with that, you were once again left alone and anxious.

You took a breath, standing up to smooth down the fabric of your skirt before venturing down the hallway.

You did your best to push Tachihara's warning out of your head, reminding yourself of the kindness Chuuya had shown you on your first day while your heels clicked across the marbled floor.

Maybe he wanted to tell you that he'd talked to Mori and that your time with Port Mafia was finally up. Maybe he wanted to hand deliver the check you'd so desperately been waiting for. Maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing. Whatever it was, you were holding onto hope that there wouldn't be any more bad news.

You let out a sharp exhale as you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of his office. You gave the door a light tap, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve when he finally appeared.

His eyes traced over you slowly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he counted not one, not two, but three undone buttons along your blouse that revealed the deep-purple push-up bra decorating your chest.

"Get in here."

His tone was clipped, dripping with what felt like vexation as he closed the door behind you.

His office was much bigger than yours, adorned with high-rise windows that overlooked the city and pristine black marble flooring that matched his leather furniture. The room was dark, just barely lit by a lamp on his desk. You wondered how it was possible for him to get any paperwork done in here but then promptly realized that with his ranking, paperwork was probably far beneath his paygrade.

Still not entirely sure how to approach the situation, you hesitantly took a seat on the over-sized armchair across from his desk.

"Quick question," he said, standing in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, his voice still riddled with irritation. "What does the phrase 'lay low' mean to you? Because I can tell you right now, this ain't fuckin' it."

Your pupils widened, his words hanging heavily in the space between you.

Your mouth opened and then closed again, too focused on the way he was staring at you to form a proper response.

"Is it -" you wavered, mustering up all the courage you had to try and play this off as innocent confusion rather than what it actually was: sarcasm. "Is it my outfit?"

If looks could kill, you would've been 6 feet under.

Chuuya's eyes darkened, a flustered hand rubbing feverishly over his face as he struggled to keep his composure. He wasn't sure if you were trying to piss him off or if you were just genuinely the dumbest girl he'd ever come in contact with.

"Yes," He said with all the restraint he could possibly manage, his teeth nearly grinding together with each syllable. “The outfits are getting out of hand. You've gotta stop."

You were playing a dangerous game, but you were slowly starting to realize that you were... winning.

"What's wrong with them?" you asked, pretending to cover your chest in embarrassment.

You wanted to hear him explain it. Hear him tell you in his own words that you couldn't wear short skirts anymore because it was causing too many unexpected erections around headquarters.

"I -" The poor redhead looked as though he was going to have an aneurysm if you kept this up much longer.

He snapped his eyes shut and let out a frustrated exhale, his hand now bawled into a fist at his side. "Listen, a lot of the guys around here have... noticed you, okay? And I can't take one more day of hearin' those fuckin' assholes talk about how they caught a glimpse of your ass in the break room. Got it? I'll buy you some new clothes if I have to. Just please, no more shirts like this, alright?"

He was actually bargaining with you. Entering the third stage of grief as he tried so hard to keep his cool. To keep his eyes locked with yours and nowhere else. To explain all of this in the nicest way he could.

It was in that moment that you realized where the real source of his trepidation was coming from.

Hearing his coworkers ogle over you was probably annoying for sure, but the more damning, infuriating fact of the matter was that he was ogling over you too. And he was fucking tired of not being able to get any work done when he knew that you were right down the hall. He was pissed that he had to come into his office every morning and lock the door just so he could jerk himself off to the idea of you.

He was in so many words begging you to stop because he wasn't sure how much longer he could take seeing so much of your body without being able bend you over his desk like he did in his mid-morning daydreams.

He was losing - both his resolve and this game at an alarming rate.

"Hmm," you hummed, toying with a pen you'd found wedged between the cushion of his chair. "Well, I'm sorry. I just like feeling pretty before I come in. I didn't know it was creating such a problem for everyone."

The wheels in Chuuya's head were spinning.

Emotions weren't his strong suit and doing these mental gymnastics with you was making him need a cigarette.

"It's -" he sighed, groaning as he forced himself to backpedal. "It's not your fault. I mean, you do look pretty, y'know. It's just... distracting, is all."

It was hard to hide your smirk.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he was a bit distracting himself, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet anyway.

"Okay, well," you conceded as you began to stand up. "I’ll wear a turtleneck or something tomorrow then.” You shot him a small smile as you got to your feet, "Promise."

He looked marginally relieved by your understanding. "Sounds good." He huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck while following behind you as you made your way out of his office.

But just before you reached the door, you accidentally dropped the pen you'd been fidgeting with. Bending over without warning so that your ass was right in front of him, peaking out of your skirt as he walked straight into you, his hips suddenly meeting yours.

You thought he might actually kill you this time with the guttural noise of frustration that escaped him.

He grabbed you by your shoulders the second you were upright again, spinning you around so that you were forced to face him.

“Okay, seriously." He said between gritted teeth. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the unfettered anger flicker through his blue eyes.

It was a stupid move, you knew that before you did it, but you didn't expect it to draw this much of reaction out of him. His restraint was lost. Composure long gone while he waited for you to say something with his face mere inches away from yours.

"Sorry," You lied, "It slipped out of my hand so I -"

"Bullshit." He snarled. "Enough with this innocent act. What do you want out of this, huh? For every guy in Port Mafia to want to fuck you? Is that what you're gettin' at here?"

"No." Your head shook before you even had time to think about what you were about to say. "Not everyone..." Your eyes were still glued to his. "Just you."

You didn't know what you were doing anymore or where all of this recent shamelessness had come from, but there was something about being here that made you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. You weren't sure if it was the power or the crime or the ungodly amount of money that Port Mafia was raking in, but the collective feeling of chaos that these walls housed was finally latching onto you too.

You didn't even flinch when you said it, instead continued to stare at him unapologetically, noting the way his grip had tightened around your shoulder the longer he looked back at you.

"What?"

If the wheels in his head had been spinning before, they were now fully off the ground, exploding into the air as his gaze drifted along your face. Searching intently to make sure you were actually being serious this time before he went any further.

"You really want me to fuck you that bad?" he asked, the warmth of his mouth now ghosting yours.

The question went straight to your center, wetness seeping between your legs as you nodded back at him.

Truth be told, your midmorning fantasies while cross-stitching the last few days hadn't been much different than his.

The gravity manipulator's fingers were suddenly tangled into your hair, his body forcing your back against the door while his lips collided with yours.

"Y'know you could've just asked instead of doin' all this bratty shit, right?"

His mouth was warm, his movements somehow urgent and careful at the same time as his hands wandered along your curves.

You smiled against his lips, letting out a breathy, "I'm sorry." as his palm began to graze the inside of your thigh.

"No, you're not." He smirked, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth before biting down with just the right amount of pressure. "But you will be."

You let out a small whimper as he placed his free hand under your chin, moving your head to the side so that he could continue his descendent down your neck.

His leg wedged itself between yours, brushing against your clit while his mouth worked along your collarbone.

You were too lost in the feeling of it all to realize that he'd been leaving a trail of meticulously placed bites down the nape of your neck. Bruises in the shape of his mouth that he knew everyone would see.

"Chuuya -" you tried to protest, but it was more of a moan than an objection. "You - fuck, you can't -" You grinded helplessly against the firmness of his leg. Hips rocking back and forth, desperately trying to gain friction while he kept on nipping away at you.

"What's wrong, babe?" he purred against your sensitive skin. "You're wearin' a turtleneck tomorrow anyway, remember?" his breath fanned across your chest as he ripped the remaining buttons off of your shirt. A gloved hand palming at your chest, sliding your bra down so that your tits were fully exposed for him before you felt his tongue glide across your nipple.

Tachihara was right, he was kind of an asshole. But for some terrible reason, you were living for it. Almost embarrassed by how bad you wanted him. Wriggling against him and riding his leg. Whining while you let him leave visible marks on you and destroy the only clothing you had.

"C'mere." He pulled his head away from your chest, swiftly grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to his desk. He picked you up with ease, shoving a binder aside to sit you down in front of him.

"Spread your legs for me." His voice was heady, eyes glossed over with lust as you complied with his demands.

He held his hand up to his mouth, removing his black glove with his teeth before pushing your skirt up and sliding your underwear to the side. He bent over slightly, running two rough fingers along your clit as he watched your nails dig into the edge of his desk.

"Fuck," he groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you. He'd barely done anything and you were already soaked, your pussy practically throbbing for him. “You really do want me that bad, huh?"

“T - told you.” You whimpered, your head tilting back as he drew slow, blissful circles around you.

He kept up the same pace, basking in the way you were so easily falling apart for him.

“Chuuya, please.”

A smirk tugged viciously at the corner of his mouth, slipping a finger into you this time as your walls swallowed him. "Please what, baby?"

You may have had him in the first half, but you were now on the losing end of this game. Forgetting how to speak altogether as you watched him part your legs even further, bending all the way down to rest his head between your thighs.

You moaned at the feeling of his tongue pressing against you. The heavenly lines he was drawing uppp and downnn your center with his middle finger still sliding in and out of you. He was generous in the way he handled you, making sure he didn't miss a single spot. Lapping and slurping up every bit of cum he could as he added in another finger. Groaning against you the louder you got for him.

The only word you seemed to be able to remember was his name, repeating it over and over while your nails lodged deeper into his mahogany desk and your body shamelessly grinded against the warmth of his mouth.

You were in a delirious daze, losing yourself completely to the way he was devouring you.

He could feel you getting close too, noting the frantic rhythm of your hips. The gorgeous, fucked-out noises you were making for him. The death grip your walls suddenly had on him. He knew you were right there, right where he wanted you.

"Chuuya, 'm - I -"

Your legs were locking around his head, shaking uncontrollably as your hand ran through his hair.

He'd never admit it, but he almost could've came at the sounds you were making alone. The pouty way that you called out his name each time his fingers plunged into you was almost enough to drive him over the edge. You were so pathetic and adorable and he was determined to make everyone in Port Mafia hear just how needy you were for him.

As much as he wanted to edge you for what you'd done to him, as much as he wanted to make you beg and plead for him to let you cum, he couldn't fucking pull himself away from you. He was just as lost as you were, drowning in your cunt and not at all wanting to be saved.

His tongue didn’t leave you until he was absolutely sure that you'd ridden out every last wave of your orgasm, still pumping his digits in and out of you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He came up for air with an exhausted smile, wordlessly coaxing your lips apart with his thumb before bringing the two fingers he had fucked you with into your mouth. Letting you clean off the blend of slick and salvia the two of you had created together.

"See how fucking good you taste?" he panted. "I think this is gonna be a real problem for both of us."

An enamored shade of pink brushed across your cheeks as he dropped down onto the chair across from you, running a tired hand through his hair.

"At least I won't be here much longer, right?" You said, playfully kicking his leg with your foot.

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "That actually reminds me..." Your eyes widened as he shifted around to dig an envelope out of his pocket. "Mori wanted me to give this to you."

Your hands trembled, opening it as delicately as you could to make sure you didn't rip anything when a check for 1,490,200 yen fell into your lap.

"Think that'll be enough to buy yourself a shirt that fits?"

Your eyes snapped towards him in disbelief, your pulse ringing through your ears as you tried to process that you'd somehow made this amount of money in a little over a week.

"Is this -" You stammered, thinking back to what he had told you when you first met. "Is this like a severance check then? ...Hush money or whatever?"

"Tragically, no. Mori wants you to stay."

Your hand instinctively flew up to your neck, covering the love-bites that the redhead had left you with, horrified at the realization that everyone was going to see them. Even more horrified at the fact that they had probably heard how you’d gotten them.

"What?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about you how you've been 'boosting the morale' around here."

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

You had not only been marked by Chuuya Nakahara, but you were now being asked to stay in Port Mafia.

You couldn't decide which was worse.

"So... that means..."

"Yep. We'll be seein' a lot more of each other." He confirmed while checking his watch. "But hey, you better get outta here, Rando and I have a meeting in 10 minutes."

You looked down at your lack of clothing, the spit and cum that was still stuck to your skirt, the obscenely noticeable bruises that he'd so proudly gifted you with.

"Give me your shirt." you demanded.

"Nah."

The grin he shot you was so cocky, so vile, so... hot.

"Chuuya." You whisper-shouted, biting back your own stupid smile. "Be so fucking for real right now, I can’t go out there like this.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you put on that skimpy-ass outfit I guess.” He shrugged.

You hopped off his desk, straddling him in his chair as you forcefully began to undo the buttons along his collar.

The room filled with suppressed laughter, neither one of you able to contain it anymore as he finally conceded, wrestling you off of him. "Alright, alright, chill. I have extras in here, hang on."

You both stood up, your eyes locked on him while he walked over to an expensive looking armoire in the corner of the room.

He pulled a white shirt that resembled the one you were wearing earlier off of a hanger and brought it over to you, guiding your arms up so that he could put it on.

His movements were calculated, almost thoughtful as he dressed you, adjusting it so that it covered up most of the damage he'd done.

"There." He said, double-checking his work. "Now get out of here before I decide to rip that one off of you too.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Part 2! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[a-deep-ocean-of-secrets]

Home Is Where I Want to Be (But I Guess I'm Already There)

Summary:

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Read below or on AO3 (3.8k words)

The thing is, Buck didn't mean to move in with Tommy.

Those first few giddy weeks and months (like bubbly champagne buzzing through his veins every time he saw Tommy’s smile, kissed Tommy’s full lips, found himself tangled in Tommy’s bed sheets) of staying over in his boyfriend's cozy, Venice bungalow have him living almost exclusively out of his trusty duffle bag. Which isn't a big deal. He's used to lugging that ratty thing back and forth from the firehouse to his apartment. 

Can it be annoying sometimes? Sure. His clothes are constantly wrinkled (which majorly sucks when he's trying to dress to impress on date nights) and he's always forgetting or running out of one toiletry or another. If it’s not his deodorant then it’s his mouthwash. If it’s not his aftershave then it’s his moisturizer. Minor inconveniences, really, but worth it every time to wake up in Tommy's king-sized bed with Tommy's strong arms wrapped around him and Tommy's hot breath on the back of his neck.  

It doesn't take long for that to change. Like a seed beginning to take root, Tommy, as he’s done since the very beginning, makes room for Buck in his life. Just as he opened his helicopter to Buck and his friends and flew them headfirst into a raging hurricane on nothing more than an outlandish hunch. The same way he took time out of his busy schedule to grant Buck a private tour of Harbor Station and answered all his jumbled questions as Buck nipped at his heels like an overeager golden retriever, tail wagging a mile a minute, wanting nothing more than to be closerclosercloser to the cool guy with a megawatt grin, who called him ‘Evan’ and had his heart skipping a beat even if he couldn’t identify the why of it all at the time.  

So it’s not a surprise at all when he carves out precious space in his closet and lets Buck's colorful and patterned button-ups and polos blend in with Tommy's neutral henleys and shackets. They’re two big guys with a penchant for working out, so their wide array of tank tops, sweatpants, and basketball shorts become indistinguishable from each other. Their LAFD-issued shirts are so interwoven that they've given up trying to tell them apart and frequently go to work wearing the other's name branded on their backs, much to their coworkers’ loud and endless amusement. 

Buck’s grapefruit shampoo and citrus body wash relocate to the shower niche alongside Tommy's own sandalwood and frankincense-scented products. On the vanity, Buck's red toothbrush is a companion to Tommy's green one. 

All these minute modifications to Tommy’s home are simple and understandable ripple effects of Buck regularly spending a few nights a week there. 

The offshoots of that single seed deepen into winding vines without Buck even noticing. 

First, it's Buck's lucky set of boxing gloves hanging innocently alongside Tommy's Muay Thai gear in the garage. After a frustrating and tedious shift, he enjoys nothing more than a few vigorous rounds with Tommy’s punching bag. Then, Buck's large and varied assortment of books (ranging from biographies on famous figures such as Marie Curie to The Book of 10,000 Incredible Facts to the new YA fantasy series that is all the rage among Christopher and his friends) slowly but steadily find a home among Tommy's WWI & II aviation history collection on the shelves of the reclaimed redwood bookcase Tommy crafted by hand. 

His favorite cast iron skillet and Instant Pot take up permanent residence in Tommy's kitchen, alongside his garlic press and waffle maker. His 'Buck Off' coffee mug (a gag gift from the 118) is always ready to go for lavender and daffodil-colored mornings spent on Tommy's front porch overlooking the canal as kayaks and paddle boards drift by in the early morning light. The sinfully soft, ocean blue afghan Carla knitted for him during the pandemic is draped over the back of Tommy's unfairly comfortable sectional. Christopher’s US History textbook is lying open on the coffee table, left behind after a pizza and study session. The newest season of The Bachelor (the combined forces of Maddie, Chimney, and Josh got him hooked. What can he say? He loves love.) is TiVoed on Tommy's flatscreen TV. His Jeep has its own designated spot next to Tommy's ’71 Bronco. 

The roots of their budding relationship grow deeper and extend farther than the eye can see. 

Buck's most cherished brand of coffee is readily available in the kitchen cabinets. His all-time favorite blend just so happens to be named The Beast. A fun fact that never fails to stop him from leering at Tommy and waggling his eyebrows every time he brews a cup. His favorite cereal is stocked in the cupboards and his favorite yogurt is in the fridge. The same fridge that is currently plastered with Jee-Yun's vibrant crayon drawings alongside pictures of Tommy’s nieces and nephews in Chicago. A true collage of sparkly princesses and menacing dragons beside Polaroids of beaming faces on the sandy shore of Lake Michigan and sitting in the stands of Wrigley Field with messy hotdogs and giant foam fingers. 

Even food Tommy turns his perfect, aquiline nose up to but Buck loves (like quinoa and chirimoya) are now staples in his pantry. His most treasured cookbook, battered with stained, dog-eared pages with the margins filled in with his own corrections in his scratchy scrawl, holds a place of honor on Tommy's countertop on a wooden stand Tommy scrounged up at the local flea market. 

He has to rack his brain to remember the last time he spent a night at the loft. The last time he had been there, to pick up some clothes from his rapidly depleting wardrobe, it had looked even emptier and barer than usual with hardly any food in the fridge, the bed sheets stale and unloved, and a thin layer of dust on his kitchen island. The industrial, modern space had felt cold and clinical and nothing like a living, breathing home. 

It lacked the wooden floors Tommy had spent weeks refinishing as he lovingly sought out the perfect stain. It lacked the extra-long, extra-wide hammock hanging off Tommy’s back patio where Buck delighted in taking the occasional catnap on sunny afternoons. The loft hadn't inspired even a fraction of the warmth that Tommy's home did every time he walked through the door with the key Tommy had given him three months in, dangling from a helicopter keychain that made him grin like a dope whenever he pulled it free from his pocket. 

Buck doesn't realize any of these very important and essential truths until one morning when he nearly trips over his running shoe that was lying discarded by the front door. At the sound of his clumsy stumble, Baron, Tommy's five-year-old Shepkita ("That's not a word, Evan. He's an Akita Shepherd.”), raises his head from where he's lounging on his overstuffed dog bed, exhausted from their early morning run at the beach. 

At the sight of Buck being Buck, Baron lets out a jaw-cracking yawn and puts his head back down to resume his beauty sleep. Kicking the offending sneaker out of the way, Buck stops dead center in the living room, hands on his hips and wearing Tommy’s faded USC sweater that’s been worn soft from years of washings and smells tantalizingly of Tommy’s laundry detergent, and can't help but survey the terrain and take stock of how much of himself is residing in Tommy's space. He's visible in every nook and cranny. 

He has completely, and totally, infiltrated Tommy's home. 

The thought instantly fills him with indescribable joy that blossoms like radiant sunflowers inside his chest. For all of ten seconds. He then remembers the last time he unknowingly moved in with someone and the heartbreaking consequences of it.

Abby.  

She had been so terribly sad and broken in the wake of her mother's death. It had been as easy as breathing for Buck to step up, to prove himself, to try and do everything in his power to fix her with his love and devotion. So he stayed with her day and night, and his things had steadily trickled into her apartment. It had been easier back then to do, he had had so little to his name other than the Jeep and his clothes. And he can't lie, it was a relief to get out of that glorified frat house filled with Connor and the others. 

It had seemed natural to move in with Abby (even if she had been unaware of it). He thought they were building something special together, something made to last. He hadn't known at the time that while he saw a new beginning, she saw entrapment. For her, she would be trading one role of caretaker for another. Going from a sick mother to a young punk (at 26, he had still been a kid) who was stumbling like a newborn giraffe through his first serious relationship. Had she stayed, there would have been so much handholding on her part as he continued to figure out all the volatile nuances of life and commitment. And that hadn't been fair of him to ask that of her when she was so vulnerable, he understands that now with valuable time and distance. She had been so lost that the only thing she could do to find herself again was travel halfway across the world and leave him behind in the process. 

He had lived (however briefly) with Abby. He was living with Tommy, even if he hadn't clocked it until just now. 

And he wants it, he realizes with a jolt not unlike the bolt of lightning that had struck him. He wants to live with Tommy. He wants to wake up with him every morning and come home to him every night (demanding schedules permitting, of course). He wants their high-energy workout sessions that always turn into a different kind of workout and their sunset strolls through the canals with an enthusiastic Baron (complete with goofy selfies in front of David Hasselhoff’s house from Baywatch). He wants their weekends at the Venice Farmers' Market. He wants their monthly meetings of the LGBTIQA+ book club that Hen and Karen started and that Tommy and Buck have hosted twice now inside this very house. 

He wants Tommy. Plain and simple. He always wants Tommy. Tommy, who has the world’s worst fake mouth static, but jokingly brags all the same about winning a medal for it. Tommy, who acts big and tough on the job and up in the air, but he never fails to shed a tear whenever they watch the climax of a romantic comedy. Tommy, who always has a heating pad and massage waiting on standby for rainy days when the pain in Buck’s bum leg flares up like relentless flames. 

Tommy, who has no idea that they're living together. 

An icy sliver of fear sluices down his back at the terrifying thought that once Tommy learns they're essentially playing house with each other he might turn tail and run away, just like Abby did. Or, perhaps, even worse, he won't run, but he won't want Buck here anymore either. He can already see it in crystal clear HD: Tommy's handsome face shuttering to stone as it does when he's uncomfortable but doesn’t want to show it. His blue eyes darting away and his lips thinning into a brittle line as he tells Buck that this is all moving far too fast, that maybe they should take a step back and put some space between them, and then Buck will be banished back to his sad, pathetic loft that doesn't have Tommy waiting for him in it. 

He cuts the catastrophizing off at the knees before it can spiral into something far more treacherous. Tommy, for all his flaws — he drinks orange juice straight from the carton like a Neanderthal and he doggedly believes that his directions are better than the GPS ("I spend most of my time in the air, Evan. I know all the shortcuts throughout Los Angeles County.") — isn't the kind of man who runs away from a fight when the going gets tough. He's the kind of man who digs his heels in and comes out swinging the next round. And he's been nothing but kind to Buck the entire time they've known each other. He enforces tough love when he deems fit, but it always comes from a place of kindness and gentleness. 

They love each other. And they live together. It's time Tommy knows it. 

So, screwing his courage to the sticking place (Jee-Yun loves Beauty and the Beast), Buck shuffles his way into the kitchen where his boyfriend is manning the stove and making their breakfast. In the oven, a frittata bakes away in Buck’s cast iron skillet and on the stovetop, turkey bacon sizzles as it fries. Tommy, hair curly and wet from his earlier shower, flips crispy pieces while humming along to The National playing softly in the background on the radio. 

God, Buck adores this man with everything in him. 

Tommy catches him out of the corner of his eye hovering there like a massive dweeb and flashes a dazzling smile his way. 

“Hey, babe. What was that noise I heard?” 

He can feel an embarrassed blush rapidly bloom across his cheeks until his face is as pink and splotchy as his birthmark. “Oh. That was just me. I, uh, tripped over my running shoe,” he lamely explains. 

“They can be quite the menace,” Tommy says with his usual brand of wry humor. He chuckles quietly to himself as he turns his attention back to the mouthwatering bacon. For a tempting moment, Buck just wants to forget the stunning revelation he’s had and instead stay in this blissful, domestic bubble that seems to exist whenever the two of them are alone together. It doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, there’s just an undeniable ease to the two of them existing in the same space, breathing the same air, hearts beating in tandem. 

But, alas, he’s a man on a mission. 

Reaching up and rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck, Buck thinks through his options. He’s come to learn, through many a messy trial and error, that honestly truly is the best policy. The last time he had so thoroughly ignored the elephant in the room was when he had asked Taylor to move in with him for all the wrong reasons. 

That had been a train wreck of epic proportions, even for him. He had well and truly bucked that situation up beyond repair. 

But that was then and this was now. And the only things Tommy and Taylor had in common were their initials and their partiality to cruising around LA in helicopters. His feelings for them were night and day as well. He had loved Taylor, but by the exhausting end of their relationship, he hadn’t genuinely liked her anymore as a person. They were too different, their morals too misaligned to exist harmoniously together. It isn’t like that with Tommy. He both loves and likes practically everything about his fellow firefighter, even the traits and bad habits that annoy the ever-living shit out of him. 

“So, hey, I, uh, kinda just realized something…pretty important.” 

Smooth start. And to think, before he met Tommy he had honestly had game. But something about the self-assured pilot, from the moment they met on the tarmac at Harbor and he introduced himself as Evan instead of his standard Buck, had him tripping over his tongue in both the best and worst ways. His foot-in-mouth syndrome had ruined their first date and nearly all chances he had had with Tommy, but it was that same unfiltered nature of his that had Tommy granting him another shot and scoring him as his plus one to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding that never was. 

Which reminds him: he owes Tommy a dance. He files that tidbit into his mental to-do list for another day. 

Tommy looks at him with a quizzical raise of his brow as he lazily twirls the spatula in his hand. “What? Found some more facts about that jellyfish? What’s it called? The spotted—“

“Chriodectes maculatus,” Buck corrects automatically. “Or more commonly known as the spotted box jellyfish. Only the rarest jellyfish in the world, I might add.” 

The corner of Tommy’s lush lips curl up into a fond half-smile. “Yeah, that’s the one. I thought you exhausted all knowledge on it last night when we watched that documentary.” 

“In the words of Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou, ‘Life is finite, while knowledge is infinite.’ So, no, I’ll never know enough about jellyfish, rare or otherwise, to exhaust myself, Thomas.” 

Tommy mouths ‘Thomas’ to himself and looks to be gearing up a quippy retort of his own when Buck realizes with tightening dread that he’s on the road to derailing this potentially monumental conversation with talk of jellyfish, of all things. Honestly, he can’t even believe himself half the time. 

Time to pivot. 

“Forget about the jellyfish. They’re not important right now.” 

Swiveling his broad-shouldered body, Tommy gives him his full attention as his eagle-eyed gaze slowly sweeps over the entirety of Buck’s 6’2” frame. Buck, for his part, staunchly fights the urge to fidget as he knows it would give him away in an instant. There’s something almost surgical in the way that Tommy, without ever saying a word, can expertly peel back all the layers of bone and marrow of Buck’s psyche down to his bleeding center where his festering insecurities and crippling self-doubt reside. 

If it were anyone else it’d feel violently invasive. But Tommy has only ever treated these undesirable parts of him with the tenderest of care, delicately stitching up invisible wounds Buck hadn’t even known existed until the moment Tommy kissed him in his kitchen and completely shook the bedrock of all his pre-conceived notions about himself. 

“Sounds serious,” he says after a moment of contemplative silence. The only sound in the kitchen is the hiss of the bacon roasting away on the stove. Through the window over the sink, a beam of sunlight shines in and bathes Tommy in its golden rays. 

Buck heavily exhales a breath out between his teeth. “It is. Or, it could be. Maybe. It really depends on how you look at it, I guess.” 

“Look at what?” Tommy asks, even-keeled as ever. It’d be infuriating if it wasn’t such a damn turn-on. 

It’s now or never. 

“Look at the fact that… We kinda, almost…sorta, seem to be living with each other?” 

Tommy freezes to the spot, his eyes going wide as he blinks, coming off as a perturbed owl for a moment before he schools his features back into his usual calm facade. He looks back down at the bacon and quickly flips some pieces before they can turn into a charred mess of meat. 

Composure regained, he asks, “Was that a question or a statement?” 

He’s always lightning-quick to toss the proverbial ball back into Buck’s court. Always willing to let him take the lead in their relationship and set the parameters and boundaries. Without fail, where Buck goes Tommy follows. It had been a sweet relief in the early days of their relationship when Buck was stumbling around blind, but nine months in and Buck needs Tommy on equal footing with him. It’s the only way forward. 

“It’s, uh, a statement.” Damn. That didn’t sound convincing at all. Closing his eyes and centering himself the way Dr. Copeland taught him, he slowly takes a deep breath, and then another, and then one more for good measure, opens his eyes, and looks Tommy square in the eye. “It’s a statement. We’re, for all intents and purposes, living together. And I want, no, I need to know what you think about…that.” 

Tommy’s gaze slides away and catches sight of Buck’s mug already topped off with his second cup of coffee for the day as swirling mist rises off of it. He sees Buck’s LAFD hoodie hanging off the back of one of the stools situated at the island. He spots Jee-Yun’s drawings on the fridge, giving the stainless steel appliance so much color and joy. He spies the Fokker Dr. I triplane chew toy Buck specialty ordered for Baron lying on the floor near the dining table. 

Tommy’s home hasn’t just been Tommy’s home in quite some time. 

He spots every single change that Buck has brought into his house with his very presence, and he gathers them to him like they’re the most precious of jewels. He turns to Buck and smiles at him. 

It nearly stops Buck’s heart for a moment. 

He loves all of Tommy’s smiles. He loves his smirk when he’s said something particularly snarky or deadpan. He loves the closed-mouth grin he does when Buck is batting his eyes and pouting and Tommy is steadfastly pretending he isn’t endeared by the silliness. He loves the smug curve of his lips when Tommy moves just right inside of him, hitting that elusive, perfect spot that has him seeing stars and clutching Tommy tighter to him until he can’t tell one limb from another. 

But this, this is his favorite Tommy smile by a far-flung mile. 

It is simply radiant. His smile is wide and open, with his straight, white teeth brilliantly on display. It stretches broadly across his rugged face, exposing his deep-set dimples on either side of his ample mouth. His nose adorably scrunches and his eyes are squinty with unbridled happiness. At the corners of his eyes, his crow’s feet spread like tiny estuaries spooling into the grooves of his tan skin. 

He looks boyish and carefree. And so very in love. 

All because of Buck. He was the cause of such boundless euphoria. No one has ever loved him the way Tommy unashamedly does. 

“What I think is,” Tommy says clearly and concisely, “I think we should make it official. What do you say, Evan? Will you move in with me?” 

Buck feels like he was socked in the gut, but only in the very best of ways. His breath is stolen from his body and he doesn’t even know if his feet are still on the ground or if he’s simply floated away with how incandescently lighthearted he feels at this very moment. 

“Y-You really mean that? You want to live together?” 

It never hurts to double-check. He does that every time with his faithful clipboard. It is truly the only way to be efficient. 

Tommy’s smile only widens further. “Evan. You’re my favorite person in the world. Of course, I want to live with you.” 

The sunflowers inside Buck’s chest come to full bloom. 

He and Tommy live together.

[deanwritings]

The Guest House - Chapter 11

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Series Summary: Dean Winchester is going through a nasty divorce. He doesn't have much left to his name, but what he does have is his house. Leave it to his soon-to-be ex wife to find a way to even ruin that for him. Enter Y/N, who is looking to get away from life for a bit, and stumbles right into the middle of it all.

The Guest House Master List

Word Count: 3,508

A/N: Here comes the burn 🔥

Dean’s awoken by the sound of laughter. He quickly sits up, his knuckles rubbing deep into his eyes as night rolls in through the back windows. 

He hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep, didn’t even intend to, but the clock above the back console table reads an hour and fourteen minutes since he last chatted with Mary. 

With a groan, he pushes himself off the sunken-in couch cushions, rolling out the kink in his neck that formed while he was napping.

He’s still rubbing his eyes as he steps into the kitchen, the lights bright and the aroma of fresh rosemary, sauteed onions and sizzling garlic immediately assaulting him, inviting him to take in a deep breath. 

“Well look who woke up.” Mary’s eyes are bright as she teases him from the kitchen island. Y/N is behind her, standing at the sink, Mary’s apron partially obscuring your sweater and pants. You look fresh faced, with some still-damp tendrils of hair framing your face. 

Dean then notices the two wine glasses on the island, and a bottle next to it already half drained. Michael Bublé sings quietly from the smart speaker in the corner.

Dean saddles up on one of the island bar stools. 

“Looks like I’m missing a party.” He offers the women a lazy grin as he slowly begins to perk up at the thought of dinner and the two happy companions in front of him. 

This kitchen was no stranger to joviality; Mary was always beloved by her husband and sons for her home cooking. Though she spent her days at the local hospital, serving twenty-three years as an ICU nurse, Mary always made sure to have a fresh-made meal for her family once her shift was over. There was nothing she loved more than having her boys around the dining room table, hearing about Dean’s basketball practices and Sam’s debate team, while John would grumble about his annoying coworkers. Mary’s family meant the world to her. Marrying John and having Dean and Sam were the best things she ever did with her life, and so much of that life revolved around food when you have two sons over six-feet tall and a father close behind. 

Even after John passed, Mary continued to cook. Even after her sons had returned back to their own lives after the funeral. Just being in the kitchen reminded her of all those amazing years together, when John would kiss her on the cheek as she prepared the meal. How, if music was playing, he would steal her away from the stove for a dance when their boys weren’t around to gag at them before she would fight her way out of his arms to make sure the food wouldn’t burn.

The kitchen brought Mary happiness, and it was obvious to everyone who sat in the kitchen with her. 

“Just some meal prep.” Mary brushes him off as she turns towards the stove and gives a pan a stir. 

Dean takes in another deep breath as the pan crackles.

“What’s for dinner?”

After a deliciously filling pan-roasted chicken and potatoes, plus another two glasses of wine, you and Dean are sitting on the back patio, a fire crackling in the pit between the two of you as you relax back in Adirondacks overlooking the pitch black lake. You’re bundled in your winter coat and hat, while Dean is somehow relaxing in nothing more than his jeans and sweater. Another glass of wine rests in your hands, warming you in ways the fire can’t while Dean opted for a bourbon on the rocks after the red wine he had with dinner. 

Mary had excused herself after you and Dean had cleaned up after dinner. It wasn’t late, but Mary was excited about a book she recently started, and decided to say goodnight and head to her room. 

“This has to be amazing in the summertime,” you muse as you look towards the quiet water, lights from houses around the shore reflecting on the thin coat of ice that sits atop of the lake. Soft edison bulbs are strung above the patio, providing a soft glow to your surroundings, and you would love to see this in the summer, when the nights are warm and the breeze doesn’t chill you to your bones.

You take a sip of wine. 

“It’s pretty nice. I keep telling mom she should get a boat, but she doesn’t want to be bothered with the maintenance of it.” He takes a sip from his own drink. “Nor would she actually know what to do with a boat, so it’s probably for the best.” He chuckles to himself and you smile at the sound.

A silence falls between the two of you, and you wish you had a speaker with some music playing just to break up the quiet. 

You decide to let your mind wander, playing back this afternoon, when you padded back downstairs after your shower in some comfy leggings and knit sweater to find Dean asleep on the couch, still sitting up but his head knocked back and mouth open with soft snores filling the living room. You had smiled at the sight, though you didn’t know why, before you had quietly looked for Mary. It wasn’t until you noticed her car gone from the driveway that you realized she wasn’t home. Not wanting to risk turning on the TV and waking Dean, you wandered around the house, taking in all the lake-themed decorations as well as the many pictures scattered throughout the house. A lot of them were from years ago, with a younger-looking Mary – who has aged like a fine wine – and who you assume to be her husband and Dean’s father, John. Two little boys were the subjects of most of the pictures, one with shaggy blonde hair during what seemed like elementary school years, and a lanky, dark-haired, hazel-eyed boy, who must be Sam. The pictures followed them throughout the years; Dean in a basketball jersey, Sam on skis, the brothers looking to be about high school age in tuxes and boutonnieres. It broke your heart as you noticed some pictures from not too long ago, a notable figure missing from the family portraits and the smiles of the remaining three Winchesters not as bright as they used to be. 

You take in a deep breath and look through the fire, shadows flickering across Dean’s face as his eyes stare out across the water. 

You think back to one particular picture that caught your eye, and it brought back a question you’ve been biting back on for a long time.

It’s none of your business. Sort of. You were metaphorically in the middle of their drama, but it didn’t necessarily mean you were entitled to the details. 

It didn’t mean you weren’t any less curious though. 

“If you don’t mind me asking. And you don’t have to answer.” Dean’s eyes dance to you. “But what happened between you and Lisa?” You recall a picture of an adult Dean in a tuxedo standing alongside Mary in a flowing, navy gown, a white rose worn proudly on her wrist, matching the one on Dean’s lapel, resting on the mantle. Clearly from a wedding day – Dean’s you assume. 

“Aren’t you just full of questions today?” He chuckles as he takes a sip from his tumblr, the ice knocking against the glass as he brings it to his lips. You watch as his Adam’s Apple bobs on his heavy swallow, and you feel your face flush with embarrassment. 

You were right the first time. It was none of your business. 

“Nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked.” You whoosh out, trying to fix your mistake before it can threaten to ruin the night.

“No,” Dean rests his now empty glass on the wide armrest and leans forward. “It’s okay. Especially since Lisa kinda roped you into our mess.” He scratches as the light layer of scruff over his jaw as his eyes look through the empty night. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath before he begins. 

“We had a good marriage for years, great even. We were young when we got married. Only twenty-four, but we had started dating when we were nineteen, and she was there for me when my dad died, so it just made sense. Which isn’t why I proposed. I really did love her. And back then she loved me too.” Dean’s eyes flick to the fire and hold its gaze. “The downfall started when she couldn’t get pregnant. All she wanted was a big family, we tried for years, then finally found out that she had some condition – I don’t even remember at this point – that made it hard for her to get pregnant. At first, she got depressed. She never wanted to leave the house, just spent her days either on the couch or in bed. At some point, the depression passed, and then the anger appeared. I tried to be understanding and be there for her as much as I could, but the anger never really went away. We started fighting. A lot. Which we had never really done before, and didn’t really know how to navigate. She got resentful, I got annoyed. We just started growing apart.” Dean takes in a deep breath, his lips setting in a hard line. 

“I started working more, just to get away from her and the fighting, then she wanted to get away from me. At some point she found someone, and then I eventually found them. In the guest house, ironically enough.” Dean relaxes back into his chair, though his body is rigid. “That was two years ago now. And we’re still not divorced.” He huffs and picks up the glass, swirling around the ice. 

Your eyes haven’t left him. He remains quiet, his story clearly done, and you have no idea what to say.

“I’m sorry you went through all of that.” You settle on. Because truly, what the hell do you say?

He just shrugs. You’re probably not the first to offer your condolences on the death of his marriage.

“You know what really sucks?” He continues without your prompting. You don’t answer, and let him continue. “We could have been divorced ages ago. We just can’t seem to quit this fighting.” He shakes his head as he deeply inhales. 

“Almost sounds like you two like the fight.” For the first time since he’s started talking, his eyes flick to you. You offer with a gentle smile as you take a bigger sip of wine this time. 

He sighs heavily. 

“It’s exhausting.” He quietly admits. 

“Then why keep going?”

He shakes his head and looks away, his shoulders dropping. 

A moment passes. Then another. Nothing but the crackling of the burning logs filling the dark silence. After another minute, the answer pops into your mind.

“You want to get back together?” You ask softly, and your stomach knots at your words. You expect him to ignore your answer, but he shocks you when he barks out a laugh, his body shaking with the sound before he puts his glass back down on the arm of the chair.

Your body slumps.

What the hell?

“Jesus, no.” He all but wheezes, shaking his head. “There’s no getting back together after what we’ve been through.” His voice drops as the laughter leaves his tone. 

You just stare at him, completely and utterly lost, until he looks back at you.

“We’re being assholes, is what it comes down to,” he admits as he drops his gaze. “She wants the house because I have it, and I don’t want to give it to her just because she wants it. And neither of us wants to be the one to surrender.” He clears his throat as he keeps his eyes downcast. 

“So you’re just spiting each other?” He looks up at your words, and even across the patio you can see the shame in them. 

“Never said I was perfect,” he forces a smirk, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Now I would never accuse you of being that.” You drop your voice as the corners of your own lips quirk up. His eyes crinkle at your words as his grin suddenly matches yours. 

And what a gorgeous smile it is. You think as your cheeks warm and suddenly your core clenches. You take in a sharp breath at the response, and you clear your throat and take a long sip of your wine to try and drown out the feeling. 

As you place your wine glass back down, you catch Dean’s gaze through the flame, his chiseled jawline sharp, even covered in a layer of managed scruff, and the fire reflecting in his eyes.

You take a deep breath and try to lean back from his gaze, but you're already against the backrest. 

Your movement seems to break his stare, and he relaxes back as well.

“How about you?” His voice is casual, but the air around you has changed, an electricity crackling through the cool night in time with the fire. 

“What about me?” You pick up your glass for another sip.

“Ever been married?” Now it’s your turn to bark out a laugh. 

“Kinda hard to keep a relationship when you’re married to your job. A job that didn’t even give a shit about you.” You sigh and look out to the lake as you think aloud. “But maybe that was always an excuse.”

“An excuse?” 

You keep your eyes on the icy water. If Dean can be honest, so can you.

“I haven’t had a serious relationship since college. On paper, we were perfect for each other, but we broke up a couple years after we graduated, and.” Your voice catches on your words and you swallow. “We had a nice relationship, but I never really loved him. Not the way you should. We were more friends than anything and we just fizzled out.” You think back to Justin. You had met at trivia night your junior year, and he was everything you thought you wanted; handsome, driven, had a sense of humor, a good family and group of friends, but somehow it wasn’t enough. “After that, the idea of dating just turned me off. If my dream guy wasn’t enough, how would anyone be? So I just started focusing more on work, and I got my first big promotion after the breakup. And then whenever anyone would ask me about dating, I could use work as an excuse.” You shrug. “I’ve dated here and there since then, but never really found anyone worth taking my attention away from my job.”

“Sounds lonely.” You throw your head back and laugh. You look over to him, his elbows now resting on his knees as he leans towards you from across the patio. 

“So does divorce.” He snorts out a laugh and looks down.

“Fair enough.” He starts to lean back but stops himself and looks over to his empty glass with raised eyebrows. 

“If we’re going to keep talking about relationships, I’m gonna need a refill.” He stands from his seat and takes his tumbler with him.

“Me too.” You hold your own empty glass up and wiggle it in the air. More wine sounded like a great idea. 

With an easy stride, Dean strolls around the firepit and over to your chair. The man is tall when you’re standing next to him, but right now he’s damn now towering over you while you’re seated. Despite the heavy conversation, he looks down at you with an easy smile. And maybe it’s the wine, or it’s just him, but you smile back as your heart thrums wildly in your chest. 

He reaches out for your hand slowly, his fingers brushing against yours as they take a secure hold on the stem. His touch is warm against your chilled skin, and his gaze holds yours and you swallow. His chest moves in a controlled rhythm as his fingers wrap around yours. Your lips part, but nothing comes out as you stare up at him, his eyes evergreen in the shadowed glow. He swallows, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with the movement.

“I–”

A log shatters apart and drops heavily into the bottom of the firepit, and you jump as the logs that had been resting on top of it tumble down, sending sparks wildly bursting and flying into the night sky.

“Holy shit,” you breath out, your eyes darting to the flames just as they begin to die down, as you rest your hands against your chest, just now realizing you had let go of the glass. 

Dean lets out a quiet laugh and takes a step back from you and the movement causes you to look back up at him, your wine glass securely in his hand. 

“More wine it is then.”

You managed to stay out through another glass of wine, until the fire dwindled down to embers, and Dean finished another two drinks. Once the flames had died down, the chill of the night couldn’t be held off, and it was late enough for you to both call it a night. 

You quietly sneak your way through the kitchen, a tipsy giddiness keeping a near constant giggle in your throat as you and Dean bump your way around the darkened room, tossing your jacket and hat on the kitchen table, and doing your best to keep quiet as you place your glasses into the sink before heading up the stairs, keeping a tight grip on the railing as you go. Dean is a half step behind you, so close, the few times you sway on the unfamiliar steps, you brush against his warm frame, even though he sat out in nothing but a crewneck sweatshirt all night. 

As you reach the top of the stairs, you expect Dean to break off, to head down to his room, but as you lazily wander towards your own door, you look over your shoulder to find him a hands-length behind you. You flex your fingers, wanting to reach back and take his hand in yours, but you keep your hand tucked in tight at your side. 

“I know this is my first night here,” you whisper roughly. “But I’m pretty sure your room is that way.” You throw a thumb over your shoulder and he quietly laughs as he leans forward, his chest brushing against your shoulder.

“What type of gentleman would I be if I didn’t walk you to your door?” His breath tickles your ear and your shoulders tense at the proximity as your feet halt. The sudden stop catches Dean off guard and he stumbles into you, one arm catching you around your waist as the other grabs at your hip. His arms tighten, pulling you against his chest. And hips.

And groin. 

You swallow.

You can feel Dean’s heartbeat at your back, erratic and wild as yours as you close your eyes and lean into him without a second thought. His hand tightens around your waist, his fingers deliciously digging in as you sway your head against his shoulder.

You close your eyes as you hear him take a deep breath. 

Without warning, his lips ghost against your exposed neck, a sliver of warmth playing across your skin and you shiver at the contact. 

Finally. Is the only thing that crosses your mind as you push yourself further into him. A growl stirs in his throat, vibrating his chest as you rest against him, and you swallow. Hard. 

You trail your hand up your body, stopping only when you find his still attached to your waist. His deep breath wafts over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Ever so slowly, he leans over you, his lips locking in on your pulse point, just below your jaw. You sigh out a whimper into the quiet hallway as his lips linger on the sensitive skin, your knees failing you as you let your weight fall against him.

In a heartbeat, his lips are gone, the skin cold without his touch and he takes a step back, his hand around your waist coming to hold your hips at an arm’s length. You spin in his grasp, your head swimming from the wine, his kiss, and the jarring movement. 

He stands there with an easy smile on his lips. The same damned lips that were just on you, making you want more. So much more. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” is all he offers before his hands fall away from you and he turns and heads for his room. 

You don’t move a single muscle, watching him until he disappears behind his door and it clicks shut. 

You shutter out a breath and your shoulders fall. Your fingers come up to your neck, tracing the space where he left his kiss, and a smile grows on your face as you stroke the spot with a gulp.

You were officially in trouble.

Keep reading

Forever Tags

@iprobablyshipit91  @likesiriusly @kittyque @findingfitnessforme @wonderange @captainemwinchester @xtina2191 @smoothdogsgirl @mogaruke @chin-up-love @tsunadesenjuuchiha @lyarr24 @globetrotter28 @krazykelly @roseblue373 @k-slla @stephv213 @kaydallas21 @nerdymuffinbonkcloud @magssteenkamp 

[cloakedsparrow]

Most of the Batpups are Half-Siblings AU

Wherein Willis Todd had mad rizz and is the biological father of not just Jason, but Dick, Cass, and Tim as well.

Mary and John were friends and coworkers who were romantically interested in each other but were reluctant to make a move. Mary was worried she’d seem unprofessional if she acted on her feelings. John couldn’t tell she was interested and didn’t want to risk making her uncomfortable by saying something. Mary met Willis while the circus was in Gotham and had a date with him after their show that culminated with Dick’s conception. John was very supportive of her after she learned she was pregnant and the two of them finally admitted their feelings for each other when she was helping him put together a temporarily solo act.

Sandra and Willis had met when they were both young and first striking out on their own. They would hook up whenever she was near Gotham and he wasn’t in a relationship. She honestly hadn’t thought to say anything to David Cain when he made his offer because a) her private life was none of his business and b) she’d slept with Willis enough times that she thought, what would be the odds she happened to get pregnant right before trying to have Cain’s child? She similarly didn’t mention having a kid to Willis because it wasn’t really any of his business.

They didn’t flaunt it or even bring it up in civilized company, but Jack and Janet had something of an open relationship prior to getting married. They always attended events together and knew they’d commit to one another eventually, as everyone assumed they would. As long as they were honest with each other and used protection, they didn’t hold any temporary infatuations against the other. Janet and Willis met at the library one day and the chemistry was there so they had a fun night together (the condom failed) without ever even exchanging surnames or numbers. When she learned she was pregnant, Jack knew he might not be the father, but they decided it didn’t really matter since he felt childcare was largely the woman’s domain anyway.

Dick was too young to remember his parents’ wedding and everyone considered him John’s kid, too, so no one at the circus thought to mention it to him.

When Sandra realized Cassandra was her daughter, it still hadn’t occurred to her that she might be Willis’ child.

Janet and Jack never told anyone that Tim might not be Jack’s biological child, including Tim, and they were married so no proof was needed to put Jack’s name on Tim’s birth certificate.

Jason was too young for Willis to tell him about any of his youthful hookups before he died. It never occurred to him that the man might have other children.

None of the batpups had any idea that they shared a biological father.

After Red Hood made his big reveal, Bruce ran some fo his blood to confirm it was Jason before allowing himself to get his hopes up. He was initially too stunned (and heartbroken) at the knowledge that it truly was Jason, to pay any attention to the other little dings the Batcomputer made.

Some time later, while organizing his files, Bruce notices that Jason's file had a mark for several first-degree blood relatives that shouldn’t be there. When he checks, he finds out that in addition to proving Jason's identity, the Batcomputer had matched him up to Dick, Cass, and Tim. He runs the tests again, just to be sure (because what are the odds). Again, it says they’re biological half-siblings.

He does a little investigating in the hopes of being better prepared to answer some questions for them when he tells them, but Sandra Wu San is the only one still alive to speak to. No one at Haly’s Circus will tell him anything other than how beloved each of the Graysons were and are. Janet Drake kept excellent records when it came to travel logs, business proceedings, and Tim’s health to education, but nothing that could possibly tell him how Tim came to be.

Eventually, he decides (after Alfred threatens him) that he has to tell them the truth.

Dick hops on his bike and heads straight to Haly’s because they’ll tell him anything they wouldn’t tell Bruce. Mr Haly does end up telling him about his parents, although he never knew Willis’ name. Dick is reminded that his parents loved each other as much as he remembers and that this doesn’t change his memories with them.

Cass contacts Lady Shiva to meet her and demands to know everything she can tell her. Then she kicks Shiva’s ass because she could have never met David Cain. She could have been raised with her little brother. She could have protected her little brother. She doesn’t know what (if any) official records she has, but she starts introducing herself as Cassandra Todd instead of Cassandra Cain afterwards. David Cain breaks out of Black gate to leave her a note that she’ll always be his before returning to his cell.

Tim has no one left to ask about it, but he knew Janet much better than Bruce, so he goes over everything the older man had, to see if he can glean anything from it that Bruce couldn’t. Unfortunately, Janet didn’t leave any answers behind so he’ll never know how she and Willis Todd ended up having a kid together. If this is after Bruce adopted him, he keeps the name Wayne and if it’s before, he still accepts the name Wayne afterwards.

Jason had seen Willis’ little black book, so he’s not surprised to learn the old man got around back in the day. The only thing that truly bothers him is Tim being his little brother. Assaults and murder attempts against said little brother aside, Jason knows his dad hadn’t met his mom yet when Dick, Cass, and even himself were conceived. However, Tim is just young enough that it’s hard to say if Janet got pregnant just before or after they started dating. He goes back to his old neighborhood to try to find answers. No one can tell him the exact date his parents met or when their first date was, but all are convinced that Willis loved Catherine and would never have cheated on her.

Jason will just have to hope that’s true.

Afterwards, Dick invites each of his (now blood) little siblings out for Batburgers. They decide not to say anything about Dick or Tim’s parentage publicly since they don’t want people making assumptions about their mothers, but they’ll tell their friends.

[maximoffcarter]

Enough for you.

Pairings: Casey Novak x Alex Cabot.

Summary: Casey Novak was not for relationships, she was not a person who went to bars and left with the first person that complimented her or bought her a drink; she was not that kind of person. But then she found herself in the same bar as Alex Cabot; how could she say no?

A/n: So...*cough* another angst cause why not. If this goes well...there might be a part 2. This was my own creation from my own mind, so my own request🤷🏻‍♀️ If you got any more requests, please send them my way guys, either on my asks box or message me privately! Hope you guys enjoy this, leave comments, hearts, whatever you like and reblog so this gets some love🫶🏻

Part 2.

*not my gif*

‘You’re still young, you should be having a bit of fun even if you’re busy with work.’ If Casey could get a dollar for each time she heard someone say that she’d be rich at this point, maybe she wouldn’t have to work hectic hours. She knew they were not wrong, she was still young, even if she had gotten a good job at White Collar, she still had a right to live and enjoy her twenties, go for drinks with friends and coworkers every night, but she truly didn’t like that life. If anything, Mary Clark had shown her better, and she was not about to disappoint her; she was willing to focus on her job, to focus on what she came to do, and that was exactly what she was here for, not to go out with her coworkers and then get home all wasted and barely being able to get through the door. Yes, she went out time to time, she was in a softball team, she went to practice whenever her afternoon was free, she had a life out of work. She knew what her coworker meant by fun, but she didn’t want that fun, she didn’t think she’d ever want it.

The last time Casey had dated someone was back when she was engaged, not too long ago, and after that, she decided that she was better off alone. That had been a big mistake, she had rushed things before even meeting the person better and she ended up not only emotionally abused but physically too. Of course she knew that not everyone was the same, she knew that maybe she could be lucky enough to find someone who would treat her right, that could show her what true love was, but she still had many scars left, she still had some pieces to put together, and she was not about to risk it again for someone that she didn’t know, and for someone that could be just like her ex. So that’s why she also preferred to go drink alone every now and then; yes, she liked her coworkers, some of them were fun to be around, but she sometimes believed that she was probably more mature than all of them together so that’s why she enjoyed her time alone.

The one time she decided to finally ignore work for a while and go out with two workers, both of them had ditched her for two guys. There was a third guy, but Casey had rejected him even before he tried to make his move. So she found herself sitting alone at the bar with her second drink in hand, wondering if it was time to go home or if she could have one or two drinks more. She knew she had work to do, maybe she could even go back to the office to pick up her paperwork and take it home along with some take out. But just as she was debating with her thoughts, she felt someone sitting beside her, and at first Casey was going to ignore it, but the strong scent of expensive perfume invaded her nose, making her turn to find a blond woman sitting right beside her. She couldn’t help but stare for a moment, finding the woman beautiful. But when she noticed she had been staring for long, she returned her stare to her almost empty glass.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Casey felt chills running down her spine at the woman’s voice, she was not expecting it…she was not exactly expecting to have any interaction with this woman or anyone at all. “Uh…I think I’m done with drinks.”

The blonde chuckled. “Seems like you do know how to count them.”

Casey nibbled on her lip as she turned to look at the blonde again, a small grin on her face. “You don’t?”

“Not when I had a hard day.” The blonde turned to look at her, offering a small grin.

“Well, then I get why you wouldn’t count them.” Casey chuckled.

The blonde nodded. “You got those days too?”

Casey nodded. “When you’re a lawyer…you gotta have them.”

The blonde raised a brow. “Seems like we got the same job then.” She grinned.

Casey squinted her eyes as she grinned. “Wait…I’ve seen you somewhere.”

The blonde chuckled as she extended her hand. “Alex Cabot.”

“Right…Sex Crimes.” Casey smiled, extending her hand to take Alex’s. “Casey Novak.”

“Nice to meet you.” Alex grinned, letting go of Casey’s hand. “White Collar?”

“Actually, yes.” Casey nodded.

“Thought I had seen you somewhere.” Alex took her drink and took a sip of it, never taking her eyes away from Casey.

Casey couldn’t help but stare into those beautiful blue eyes, almost as if they were enchanting her in some way. “So, what brings Alex Cabot into this bar?”

Alex shrugged. “Tough case. Needed a drink.”

“I don’t think I could ever do Sex Crimes. So I respect you for that.”

Alex smiled. “Well…you learn to deal with it…” she huffed a chuckle as she raised her drink. “And this right here helps.”

Casey chuckled as she nodded. “I’m sure.” She smiled softly.

No, Casey was not planning on staying more at the bar. No, she did not plan on having more drinks. No, she was not expecting to engage in a conversation with someone, let alone such a beautiful girl as Alex. She has heard a lot of things about Alexandra Cabot, some rumors, some facts, she never listened to the gossip, but when she saw Alex in a press conference and the next time she found herself in the same courtroom, her curiosity for Alex started, and now she had spent easily two hours talking about everything with her, and she was fascinated. They decided to avoid talking about cases, so they talked about other things, and laughs soon joined in the conversation, giving them both a feeling of comfort. And no…Casey did not expect for Alex to ask if she wanted to get out of the bar; actually…she figured at some point that it could happen, but what she did not expect was for her answer to be yes.

Casey moaned the moment her back hit the wall, her eyes staring into blue one as her hands worked their way to Alex’s coat, pulling it off and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Alex’s hands soon found Casey’s neck and pulled her for another heated kiss, her body pressing against Casey’s. “Alex…” she breathed out once she felt Alex’s lips traveling down her neck and finding her pulse point.

“Yes baby?” Alex whispered as she looked up to look into green eyes, panting as they stared at each other. “We can stop if you want to.”

Casey breathed heavily as she wetted her lips, her eyes landing on Alex’s swollen lips and back to blue eyes. She shook her head, a small grin on her face. “I want you to fuck me.”

Alex smirked. “As you wish.”

********************

“So, Novak.” Jessica grinned as she stood at the doorframe of Casey’s office.

Casey looked up from her paperwork and furrowed her brows. “Yes?”

“I got a question for you.” Jessica walked inside the office, the grin never leaving her face.

“No, I am not going to drink with you guys again. You left me. Plus, I’m going to the cages today.” Casey returned her attention to the paperwork.

“That wasn’t my question, but good to know that we won’t be counting on you again.” Jessica chuckled. “Why do you suddenly look so happy?”

Casey frowned, looking up at Jessica again. “I look happy?” Jessica nodded. “I…don’t think I look any different than I have before.”

“You’re getting laid, aren’t you?” Jessica smirked.

“I-“ Casey scoffed. “Jessica! What the hell? No! I’m not. I’ve been having good cases, free time, I get to do more out of work.”

“Oh, you get to do someone…”

Casey rolled her eyes. “Please get out.”

Jessica laughed as she walked to the door. “I know you, Novak!”

Casey cleared her throat as she tried to focus back on her paperwork. Yes, it was true. It had been three months since Casey started seeing Alex after work. After that night, both of them had exchanged numbers after Casey decided to leave in the middle of the night. No, it wasn’t her first time being with a girl, she had always suspected that she liked girls but never actually got with one because her parents expected her to be with a guy. So it was no surprise that she was fascinated by Alexandra Cabot. She knew she was going against her own words, saying that she was not that kind of person, that she’d mainly focus on her job, but after some drinks and engaging in conversation with Alex, she couldn’t help it; and she didn’t regret any of it. But that was it…just a hook up. Nothing more. She was not ready to get into anything serious, it could never be anything serious. She was sure she was not the first attorney to fall into Alex’s bed, as bad as that sounded, but she heard the rumors. So no, this was nothing more than a hook up and that was it.

As for Alex, she knew the rumors that went around in her own office, she knew the nickname that was now known even at the precinct, she knew her reputation, but she really couldn’t care less about it. It was nothing, they were simply rumors and gossip, she was mature enough to let it get to her, and some of them, were nothing but lied, but again, if they wanted to tell them around, they could, she knew the truth and she knew who she was, and that was it. Yes, she had her hook ups before, she had stopped once she had joined Sex Crimes since she had focused her whole attention in the job, and she barely had any time to focus on her private life. But that night, the night she met Casey, something called her in, and she couldn’t help but go against her own words but noticing how beautiful she was, that beautiful smile she had, that voice and laugh…she got lost. And she knew she wanted more. It was impossible to not want more.

“Come here often?” Alex whispered as she stood behind Casey, smirking at the way she had shivered.

Casey turned to look at Alex and smiled. “Starting to. I come to meet someone.”

“Oh, so you mind if I sit with you while you wait?” Alex grinned.

“Not at all.” Casey grinned as she placed Alex’s drink in front of her. “Thought I’d get ahead.”

“Oh, thank you.” Alex smiled as she sat down. “Had a good day?”

Casey nodded. “It was slow. Yours?”

Alex sighed before she took a sip of her drink. “Delightful.”

Casey nodded again, looking down at her drink. “That’s why you called?”

Alex furrowed her brows as she looked at Casey. “I wanted to see you.” She offered a smile. “Just needed someone to talk to.”

Casey smiled softly, looking up at Alex. “We can go to my place.”

Alex grinned as she nodded. “Sounds fair.”

It wasn’t the first time that they met at the bar, had two or three drinks, and then left to Alex’s apartment. Most of their nights went like this. Sometimes Alex would go to Casey’s office in her lunch time and make a plan with Casey to meet at night, or Casey went to Alex’s office to confirm if they’d see each other that night. It had now become a routine, for both of them, they barely talked about work, they only asked about their day, had their drinks, and then went to each other’s apartments. Casey debated with her mind daily, saying this was definitely not something she did, that this was definitely not her, but she couldn’t help it; Alex was beautiful, the way she dressed, the way she talked, the way she laughed…the way she moaned Casey’s name, the way she trembled when Casey’s fingers were inside her, the way she came undone and stared at Casey, looking so beautiful underneath her. It was impossible to not want more of that, she couldn’t get enough, and she knew Alex couldn’t either.

Alex kissed Casey’s naked shoulder as she moved to lay down beside Casey. “You good?”

Casey nodded, clearing her throat as she tried to catch her breath. “Good.”

Alex chuckled softly. “Good.” She laid on her side, staring at Casey.

Casey felt Alex’s eyes on her, making her turn to look at Alex, frowning as a smile appeared on her face. “What?”

“Nothing…you’re just beautiful.” Alex smiled.

Casey’s breath hitched as she stared  at Alex, suddenly speechless as she heard the sincerity in her words. “So are you.”

“Thanks.” Alex sighed then, moving to get up from the bed. “Guess this is my cue to leave.”

Casey nibbled on her bottom lip as she sat in bed. “You know…you could…stay. It’s late.”

Alex turned to look at her and smiled softly. “I-“ suddenly her phone went off, making her groan as she stood up and went to find her phone. “Cabot.” She closed her eyes as she sighed. “On my way.” She hung up and turned to look at Casey. “Work.”

Casey sighed. “I understand.” She stared at her the whole time as she collected her clothes and got dressed quickly.

Alex put on her blazer and turned to look at Casey, smiling. “I’ll call you?”

Casey nodded. “Yes.”

Alex bit her lip before she crawled in bed and kissed Casey’s lips. “Sleep well.” She whispered against her lips before she pecked her lips one last time and then grabbed her phone and left the room.

Casey sighed as she heard the door closing, throwing herself back in bed and groaning softly. This was only a hook up. She couldn’t have feelings for Alex, and she didn’t. They just knew each other’s bodies now, they were used to each other, they had a good fuck, and that was it. It was a hook up and nothing more. And it was going to stay that way.

********************

“Heard the news.” Alex grinned as she leaned over Casey’s doorframe.

Casey looked up from her briefcase and smiled, leaning over her desk. “Sorry if I’m gonna take some of your cases.” She grinned.

Alex chuckled as she walked inside, closing the door behind her. “I don’t mind. Not when it’s you.” She grinned.

Casey raised her brow as she bit her lip. “Oh, so if it was someone else, you’d have fought Branch or Liz?” She grinned.

“Maybe.” Alex smirked as she stood in front of Casey, one of her hands going to Casey’s waist and the other stroking her cheek softly. “But now I’ll have you closer.” She whispered softly.

Casey shook her head. “We can’t do this at work, Alex.” She whispered back.

“You sure we can’t?” Alex raised her brow.

Casey grinned as she placed her hands on Alex’s waist, turning her so Alex was leaning over her desk, moving her to sit on it. “We can try it then.”

Alex gasped, her hands gripping Casey’s shoulders. “Thought we couldn’t, Novak.” She chuckled.

“Changed my mind.” Casey smiled as she closed the gap between them, moaning as Alex’s hand wrapped around her and her hand went into Casey’s hair to pull her impossibly closer.

Alex started moving her hands down to Casey’s front, but her phone interrupted them once again. She broke the kiss and leaned her head on Casey’s chest. “Not again.” She whispered.

“Duty calls.” Casey chuckled. She kissed her forehead softly before she stepped away from her. “I need to go to court anyway.”

Alex nodded as she hopped off the desk. “Alright.”

“See you tonight?��� Casey smirked. “I’d like to finish what I started.”

Alex grinned. “Sure.” She nodded before she left Casey’s office almost in a hurry, calling Olivia back.

After almost two years of knowing each other, Alex could’ve sworn that there was more between them. Some nights, they stayed in each other’s apartment after many rounds, deciding that it was ‘safer’ for them to not go back to their homes in the early hours. Sometimes they even stayed weekends together, spending the whole day in bed making each other come undone, or just simply talking about everything but nothing at the same time. Alex had been afraid to admit it, she had been in denial for so long, but the reality was…that she was starting to feel something for Casey, and it was so obvious, there was no denial. All those days and nights that they had spent together, all those laughs and smiles they had shared; it wasn’t just a hook up to her, it had become more. But the more they got used to each other, the more she noticed that Casey called her whenever she needed to get off her stress or when she had a bad day. Yes, Alex had done that the first few weeks, but after figuring out that she mostly did it because she wanted to see Casey, it’s when her whole perspective of the situation changed. But she could risk what they had if she said anything, so it was better to keep it to herself and continue as they were. What could possibly go wrong?

And as for Casey, she had been nervous when Branch had called her to his office to let her know that she’d be moving to Sex Crimes with Alex. They had figured out that more than usual, they were loaded with cases and sometimes Alex couldn’t keep up with all of them, so they figured that bringing someone to help wouldn’t be a bad idea. And now she’d be seeing Alex daily, they’d be working together. The idea wasn’t that bad, she already saw Alex daily, but not exactly in the building, now they’d be working together, not only hooking up. She was afraid that the more time they spent together, the more she would let herself get lost, and she couldn’t allow that.

The first few weeks went away so quickly. They had someone fallen into an easy routine and even met up for lunch to help each other out with the cases. Thanks to Alex, Casey was not being accepted by the squad, she knew that they were used to Alex, and Casey somehow worked in her own way and that was something that the squad hadn’t agreed on at the beginning, but with the help of Alex, they were getting used to it. For a moment, she noticed the way that Alex had entirely changed since the first time they had met; she was more…soft. Casey couldn’t deny that she liked it, but she was also not sure that she could buy it. They gave each other what they needed, they gave each other pleasure, they gave each other a space to get off the stress of the day or the week, what they had was nothing but sex. She was sure Alex wanted nothing more than that. And she confirmed it soon enough when she saw her with Olivia.

It was notorious the first day when Olivia was basically pushing away Casey, at first she thought that she had just made a bad impression, but then she saw her with Alex. She acted so differently with her, she got so close to Alex, and Alex to her, and their conversations were so easy, Olivia would do anything that Alex asked her to do, and Alex would give in to whatever Olivia asked from her, but if it was Casey, everything would be different. She noticed the way Alex seemed so relaxed with Olivia, the way she just enjoyed having her in her office, and they could stay there for hours. And that’s when Casey understood, that’s when she confirmed her doubts and answered her own questions; it was only a hook up, nothing more.

Alex smiled as she opened the door to find Casey standing there. “Hey.”

Casey smiled. “Hi.” She walked into the apartment and turned to look at Alex, waiting for her to close the door. She took her coat off and sighed softly. “Day okay?”

“It was.” Alex smiled as she turned to look at Casey. She felt something was off with Casey, so she only stood there and crossed her arms. “Was your day okay?”

“Sure.” Casey smiled. “Should we go ahead?”

Alex furrowed her brows, tilting her head. “Are you in a hurry?”

Casey huffed a chuckle. “C’mon, Alex. We both know why I’m here. So, might as well just save time and get on with it.”

Alex felt like she had been punched right on her chest as she looked at Casey. “Casey…I didn’t call you for that. I just…thought maybe we could just spend the night here instead of going to a bar.”

“We know how that ends anyway, at the bar or here.” Casey shrugged. “Or…did you call me to tell me you don’t wanna do this anymore?”

“I’m…confused as to what is happening right now.” Alex huffed a chuckle as she shook her head. “Did I do or say something?”

Casey nibbled on her lip as she looked away from Alex. “Alex…” she sighed. “Why are we pretending like this is something when we both know this is just a casual thing?” She looked back at Alex. “We’ve been doing this for so long now, we fell into a routine but…the result is the same. We end up in bed and then we start over again.”

“So…it’s just a casual thing.” Alex nodded.

“Isn’t it?” Casey raised her brows. “Tell me I’m wrong. I’m-“ she shook her head as she looked down at her coat. “I don’t really do dating. And since we started this, I made it clear. So yes…it is just sex.” She looked back at Alex with a serious look.

Alex nodded again as she looked away. “I’m glad to know now.”

Casey nodded. “Maybe we should give each other some time.”

“I think you’re right.” Alex bit her lip as she tried to avoid Casey’s stare. “Maybe you should go.”

“Okay.” Casey said softly as she put back her coat, walking to the door. She stopped for a moment to look at Alex who was still looking away. “I’ll…see you at the office.” She said almost in a whisper as she opened the door and left the apartment.

Once she heard the door closing, Alex couldn’t help the tears that rolled down her cheeks. She was afraid that this day would come, and she begged anyone that it would never come, but here she was now. She knew since the first moment that it was wrong to let herself feel anything at all for Casey, she knew that it would hurt at the end, but she still let herself get lost in Casey because she had a bit of hope that maybe, just maybe, she could be wrong and that there was a chance. But there wasn’t. Casey now confirmed it; it had been just sex and nothing more, and there was nothing else she could do about it. She lost what they had…she lost Casey.

[captainsophiestark]

Office Most-Eligible

Daniel Sousa x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 20 Prompt: "This better be good."

Summary: When Jack ropes Daniel into eavesdropping on the telephone ladies' breakroom, they both might hear a lot more than they'd bargained for.

Word Count: 2,387

Category: Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

Daniel's POV

I sighed as I shuffled the papers in my hands, mentally running through the million things I had to do today. Peggy, Jack, and I had managed to stop Leviathan from leveling New York City and destroying Howard Stark, but that didn't mean the last six months since then had been any more relaxed. If anything, it had gotten busier than ever before.

There had even been talk of opening another branch of the agency in LA, which was a whole other insane possibility fluttering around in my mind. It was enough to distract me to the point that I didn't notice Thompson, half-hidden by the entryway to the agency, until I ran into him.

"Thompson? What the hell are you-?"

"Sh!"

He raised his finger to his lips and glared at me. I glared back.

"Why are you-"

"Sousa! Shut up and listen," he hissed, jerking his head towards a grate in the wall. I frowned and made a demanding "what?" gesture, but he just nodded towards the grate again. I sighed, so long-suffering it wasn't even funny, but shuffled closer.

"This better be good," I grumbled. Jack just waved his hand at me.

Through the grate, I could hear voices talking and giggling loudly. It sounded like all the ladies who sat outside the entrance to the agency, guarding the door and keeping up the front that this was a phone company, talking together like they were in the break room. I paused, curious enough to entertain Thompson's nonsense for another ten seconds.

"-saying is, there's a definite ranking of all the guys in this office. And yours ain't it."

The girls dissolved into another fit of giggles, and I scowled. I grabbed Thompson's arm and yanked him away from the grate, out of earshot.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded, keeping my voice low just in case. "You're eavesdropping on coworkers in their breakroom? Instead of working? You're the Chief!"

"I don't know if you caught it, Sousa, but they're talking about us. Specifically which one of us they'd most want to date. I'd call that research and intelligence work for future opportunities."

Jack gave me a smirk as he drifted back towards the vent. I scowled and followed to drag him away and make him do his damned job, but froze when I heard the ladies welcoming our newest addition to the agency, the second female agent in SSR history. She'd been here a little over five months, had become instant best friends with Peggy Carter, and had me head over heels within a week of knowing her.

And apparently she'd just walked into the breakroom.

Jack gave me a knowing smirk and raised an eyebrow, and I glared right back. But I couldn't quite manage to drag myself away either, no matter how much my brain told me I should.

****************

Y/N's POV

"You came at the perfect time!"

I pulled a snack out of the fridge and looked suspiciously at Mary, one of the switch operators who worked outside the SSR. In the short time I'd been here, I'd gotten to know her and Rose pretty well, since they mostly alternated shifts for our main door guard. Rose and I had quickly bonded over our mutual feminism and desire for independence; Mary and I had bonded through being troublemakers, and I had a feeling I was about to see some more of that.

"Why?" I asked, drifting halfway to the door now that I had secured my snack. Mary smiled.

"We were just talking about the boys in the office. We have a few different opinions about who would make the best boyfriends and husbands, and since you know them all so well... I mean, I can't think of anyone else with a better reason to chime in."

I scoffed. "Nice try Mary, but no way am I engaging in this conversation. See you all later!"

The rest of the women in the room booed playfully, but I didn't turn around as I reached the door. Mary, however, knew me well enough to figure out how to stop me in my tracks.

"Well, I guess that means Jack Thompson is the definitive winner!"

I narrowed my eyes and stared at the door in front of me, hand on the half-turned doorknob. I'd come so close to avoiding this nonsense, and it still wasn't too late for me to take the exit. I scowled and scrunched my nose, then turned around to squint at all my coworkers looking back at me.

"Be completely honest, I'll be able to tell if you're lying," I started, still only half-turned away from the door. "How many of you would put Jack Thompson at the top of your 'SSR's Most Eligible Bachelor' list?"

A few hands shot into the air, followed by a few more tentative hands that must've heard the disgust in my tone. All in all, about half the room had their hands up for him. I sighed, long and heavy.

"And the other runners up were...?"

A few people called out names of other men in the office, most of whom were barely better (or definitely worse) than Jack. I looked up at the ceiling and shook my head.

"You all have terrible taste in men."

Half the room, Mary included, started laughing, and the other half looked offended. I shook my head and turned to leave again, but Mary stopped me again before I could go.

"Who would you choose then, if not Thompson? You can't criticize our taste without giving us some insight into your process."

Her grin stretched across her entire face as she stared at me, waiting for me to take the bait. Her hand had been the first in the air for Thompson, but I could tell she genuinely wanted to debate me more than she wanted to defend him.

I sighed.

"Fine. But I'm going to make this quick and then I'm gonna go do my job, because I have a ton of stuff to do today," I said, finally stepping away from the door to stand in the middle of the room. Everyone stared at me, leaning forward in their seats a little, Mary most of all. "...I can't believe I'm about to engage in this."

Mary scoffed and I rolled my eyes, but then took a deep breath and dove in. What the hell, right?

"Okay, first of all, let me clarify: I can understand, from a surface level, why you might pick Thompson. He's handsome, and if you didn't spend much time with him, I can see why you'd think he might make a good partner. Honestly, in the five months I've known him, I've even seen a few glimmers of hope that there might be a heart of gold underneath all that arrogance, posturing, and chauvinism. However. In terms of best guy in the office to have as a partner? He does not even come close to touching Daniel Sousa."

A few people raised their eyebrows, half leaning forward and half leaning back and crossing their arms. I ignored them all (especially Mary, who beamed at me), and continued.

"Listen. Sousa is... kind of ridiculously attractive. He's handsome, with the warmest brown eyes you've ever seen in your entire life... and he's super strong. I've seen him one-handed lift a bunch of different things the other agents struggled with using their whole bodies. He looks incredible in a sweater vest, to say nothing of suits and non-sweater vest clothes."

I saw considering nods around the room as people took in my words. I paused and took a deep breath, then continued.

"More than all of that, though... Daniel is kind. He's strong in his morals and his character, not just physically. He's got a great sense of humor, and his jokes don't rest on being a mean, close-minded jackass. And, above anything else, he respects me. He respects Peggy. He treats us as equals. I don't know about you guys, but... that means everything to me. And finding a man who's kind, smart, strong, handsome, and will treat me as an equal partner? Come on. Daniel's got it all."

I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to the expressions of everyone else around the room while I was talking, but now I focused back in to see the majority looking thoughtful. I cleared my throat, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious, and started backing towards the door.

"Uh, anyway... long way of saying I'd put Daniel at the top of my list."

Mary grinned at me as I continued heading for the door, then pushed out of her chair and called out to the whole room.

"Hear that? Sousa's off limits, these two are going to be dating in the next month if we have anything to say about it."

"MARY!"

****************

Daniel's POV

Jack and I stood in the hallway, stunned into silence as we stared into space. My brain had been telling me to stop listening a while ago, but I'd been shocked enough that my body had refused to listen. Now, my heart was telling me I was on the verge of a cardiac arrest.

"You go get him, girl!" Mary's voice continued through the vents. Then, with determination and glee dripping from her words, "I'm staying after Thompson. I'm gonna fix him."

I heard some light-hearted laughter, and then a door shutting. In a few seconds, the girl who'd just poured her heart out to me without realizing it would be coming into the office, a few feet from Jack and I's stupid hiding place.

"You look like you're about to puke," said Jack, a beaming grin on his face. I scowled.

"Why don't you? You just got called a couple pretty bad things."

"What? Like 'attractive'? All I was hearing were positives." He grinned at me, then sobered slightly before slapping me on the shoulder and taking a few steps away. "Don't psych yourself out on this one though, Sousa. She's a catch, and she's clearly in love with you. If you don't take a shot, I might have to."

I scoffed and shook my head. I knew Jack didn't really mean that; it was his own, terrible way of trying to be supportive.

I sighed and tried to brace myself as I walked over to the entrance to the SSR. Thompson was wrong about many, many, many things, but he was right about this: I needed to take my shot.

****************

Y/N's POV

"Holy- Daniel!" I nearly dropped the snack I'd taken a detour to retrieve as I cleared the SSR doors and came face to face with Daniel, especially since I'd just poured my heart out about him to a bunch of our coworkers. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Uh... sorry," he said, shifting his weight around a little and running a hand through his hair. He looked almost as comfortable as I felt.

"Is, uh, is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Well, sort of. I just..." He cleared his throat, then jerked his eyes away from the floor and the wall to meet mine. "I need to tell you something, and then I need to ask you something."

"...Okay?"

"First, I... I heard what you said in the breakroom. About me. And about Jack, which was fun too, but... It feels important that you know I heard the stuff you said about me."

My heart stopped in my chest, and I blinked a few times as black spots danced at the very edges of my vision. I was going to kill Mary.

"Uh..."

"Before you say anything, I'm sorry," he said, holding up a hand. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I just... I let Thompson suck me into something I should've known better about. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, Daniel," I said, a little breathless as my legs finally started working to move me past him. I could not deal with this a second longer. "Don't worry about it, I'll... I have to go-"

"Wait!" he cried. He put one hand on my arm to stop me, then quickly dropped it when I turned back to look at him. I watched him take a deep breath, my heart hammering a thousand times even though it only took a few seconds, then he continued. "Look, I know I might've lost a few points in your book for the eavesdropping, which is fair, but... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't head over heels for you too. Have been since the first few days you got to the agency. You're smart and strong and funny and... God, listen to me."

He looked down and shook his head, and I noticed a slight blush rising up his neck and cheeks. Slowly, my heart dropped back to a normal rhythm, and I started to smile.

"Okay, what I'm trying to say is... I feel the same way about you that you do about me," he said, finally looking up at me again. "And if you'd still be interested... I'd love to take you out to dinner sometime."

I beamed at him, unable to stop the smile completely overtaking my face. I looked down, and when I looked up again, Daniel's stare was still on me, a smile hopefully flickering in and out of place.

"Daniel, I'd love that," I finally said.

"You would?"

"Yeah. I really, really like you, eavesdropping and all."

He huffed a laugh, the shaky smile turning into full-on beaming.

"Great! How's tomorrow night sound?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Good. I'll pick you up at eight." He started to back away, so both of us could get to the mountain of work we had to tackle at some point today, then stopped. "If that works for you, that is?"

I smiled. "That absolutely works for me."

"Alright, great! I'll see you then. And, uh, around the office, I guess."

"I'll see you around the office."

We shared another set of dorky, ridiculous smiles as we backed away from each other, going to do our separate tasks for at least part of the day. Thank God Thompson wasn't around to see either of us.

At some point, he and the rest of our coworkers would probably catch on to the two of us dating, unless the first date somehow went so horribly there wasn't a second. But I'd meant every word I'd said to the rest of our coworkers about Daniel. And if a little eavesdropping had led to him asking me out, I couldn't bring myself to be too upset about any of it.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe

[blood-orange-juice]

So.

Why I think Sandrone might be Mary-Ann Guillotin. Spoilers for Fontaine side quests.

*

Smoke and mirrors

As we have noticed in Liyue, Inazuma and Sumeru (and to an extent in Mondstadt) we do not normally *see* Harbingers until they appear for the final act, only the mechanisms they set in motion.

(Childe is an outlier and it's not like he's done anything productive yet)

Also most of Harbingers' lore so far has been dropped through things in the overworld (Signora's and Scaramouche's stories are in artifact sets, and Dottore's research notes are all over Sumeru). Somehow we have nothing on Arle's and Sandrone's backgrounds so far, which means we likely have something and we just don't know it yet.

Also Arlecchino is all over the plot, so I assume the important Harbinger in this chapter is Sandrone, everything else is an entertaining show to distract us. If she only appears in the final act, it would make sense if her exposition is done through lore tidbits scattered across the map.

*

Who Framed Roger Rabbit

Now another angle.

I'm almost sure that the contradictory verdict is caused by a certain someone's connection to the Primordial sea. (I'll eat my HoD artifact set if it's not. not like it's a good set but eh)

So whoever framed that certain someone needs to: 1. Know how the Oratrice works (either an engineering genius or they know an engineering genius) 2. Know about the Primordial sea and the Abyss (a gentle reminder that Vaucher knew about its properties through Jakob) 3. Have a motive

Idk, the combination of the first two *screams* Narcissenkreuz to me. I assume the motive is destabilizing Fontaine's energy system. It furthers Harbingers' goals and it would be too lucky a coincidence if it was someone else. So... A Narcissenkreuzer and a Harbinger. Noice.

We have Mary-Ann disappearing during that accident in Elynas without a trace. No body was found. Sus. We know Alain founded the Research Institute and worked on his own projects until death from old age. He could have transfered his consciousness into a robot. Also someone else could have.

(maybe the big robot is Alain then. as they say in Mondstadt, ehe)

(from Enigmatic Page XII, I can't guess who the author is)

*

Other characters' voicelines

Since Scaramouche's line about her says Sandrone is nowhere near an engineering genius and has produced a "copious amount of garbage", I assume it's not Alain. Mary-Ann it is then. She has her brother's old designs and theories but that's it.

Then there's Childe's voiceline about Sandrone:

When it was added I assumed it was about how clueless Childe can be about the consequences of his actions, but also what if he really didn't do anything (poor boy. everyone is so quick to suspect the worst about him).

We know that Mary-Ann and Alain had a big falling out with Rene and Jakob because of the Abyss research and what they did to Carter. If Sandrone is in fact Mary-Ann, it's possible that whatever Childe is just reminds her of Jakob. Or of Carter. Sorry Childe, your existence is just a trigger for the poor traumatised girl.

*

Summarising all that: guys, gals, fellow Romans and other forms of life, it's Sandrone. Everything in Fontaine is about Sandrone.

*

Things this theory doesn't account for unless you squint really hard.

- They don't look much alike but then a lot of years have passed and we have Herta from HSR and the way her appearance shifts slightly with each new puppet.

However, they also don't look that different.

- Why did Lyney need to investigate the Oratrice? If at least one Harbinger knows how it functions then what is left there to investigate? Maybe he was trying to tamper with it, of course. Or maybe they know the Gnosis is in there.

But then the Harbingers aren't exactly known for good communication between coworkers.

- If Mary-Ann is alive, why did she leave her brother behind? Why didn't she go back for Seymour?

I have no good answer for this, so this is likely proof that Sandrone is not Mary-Ann then.

(maybe she doesn't know Seymour is alive and he will recognize her sometime later in the story, of course)

- Who was the familiar voice Lyney heard near the Oratrice? It's not familiar enough to recognise but someone known to him. I doubt he knows Sandrone subordinates or met Sandrone herself. Or maybe he's lying and it's someone he recognises and wants to protect. Or maybe, as Cricket says in their post, that was a distraction too.

- Also there's Rene who happily dissolved into collective consciousness and no one heard of him after that. He could know any kind of things (including how the Oratrice works and what's happening with the primordial seawater) and it's a stretch of course, but any of the Harbingers (Arle included) could be working with him. Anyway, where's Rene?

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Hey! Could I get a little bit of Arsonist Neil? I desperately wanna know how this phone call will go! Thank you for sharing your beautiful writing Aerie!!! I wish you a good week!

WIP Wednesday (4/17) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 147)

When Neil hangs up the phone, there’s a warmth in his chest that he’s never noticed before. It’s nice to have someone to talk to after a horrid memory disguised as a nightmare. He fondly strokes his phone screen with the pad of his thumb and sighs. Andrew was angry at him, but still answered when Neil needed him. 

He can’t recall ever having that sort of friendship his entire life. Of course, talking to Andrew meant having to hear about that movie… But, even that was nice. Andrew’s voice is nice. He should narrate books or something. Neil double checks that his door is locked and barricaded with the chair before kicking off his shoes and sort of making his bed enough to crawl into it.

As he starts to jam the charger into the side of his slider phone, Neil notices he’s got an alarming amount of missed messages. He opens his text thread with Andrew and scrolls to the top, back to that angry ‘leave me alone’ that had him ripping the battery out.

Andrew I didn’t mean it. Tell me why you didn’t stay.

Neil lets out a breath. If only he could.

Andrew I apologize for jumping to conclusions. Obviously I’m not good with people either.

They’re a couple of idiots, it seems.

Andrew You know, technically, you did deliver on the coffee. I just didn’t drink it. I guess this means I’m paying next time. What should we do? I noticed there are a couple of movies playing that might be alright. We could catch a matinee. But, be warned, I will be sneaking candy in because I’m not a goddamn Rockefeller. Do you like M&Ms?

Andrew was trying to make other plans with him? With Neil? He can’t fucking believe that.

Andrew There’s a bunch of kids at work today. A field trip was arranged behind my back by my friend Renee. It’s just as fun as it sounds. One of the kids heckled me, then another asked how strong I was. So I was made to carry my very large coworker across the room. What’s new with you?

Neil knows firefighters have to be strong, but he’s suddenly wondering just how large Andrew’s co-worker was. Andrew seems quite sturdy, despite being even shorter than Neil.

Andrew I’m about to go to the movies with my brother who hates me. Well, I’m not sure if he still hates me. He used to. Wish me luck, firebug.

The nickname has a smile forming on Neil's face.

Andrew The movie was terrible, just so you know. I hated every second of it. My brother enjoyed it, but he’s stupid. Did you know a large soda costs like $50 now? I’m joking, obviously. But the prices are ridiculous, so I suppose I won’t be doing that again for a while.

Neil hasn’t been to a movie theater in… He counts back years in his head and thinks of the time he and his mother ran into one to hide from one of Nathan’s people. They’d hunkered down in a crowded theater playing some sort of kiddie movie about a little Hawaiian girl.

He didn’t get to watch it because Mary kept shoving him down into the seat and watching the doors behind them, but the tune of the song was catchy even if it was in a language he didn’t know. He hums what he remembers of it and taps out replies to almost every message Andrew had sent him. Then he rolls around and goes back to sleep.

[athenasparrow]

The Bartender's Revenge

Read on AO3

For @mppmaraudergirl

Finally, a stand-alone! @jilymicrofics

“Shit!” She curses as she slams into something solid as she rounds the corner.

“Sorry!” Calloused fingers skim the exposed skin above her skirt as warm hands stop her from toppling – unbalanced as she is in heels – to the harsh concrete floor.

He’s alluring in an untamed sort of way; wild curls frame a face with a sharp jawline – the perfect place to let her lips wander – with just a shadow that tells her he didn’t bother with a razor this morning.

“Thanks,” she breathes, missing his hands as soon as he deems her stable enough to stand on her own. 

“No problem, I’m here to help with anything you need.” He winks at her before disappearing through a door marked staff only. 

Lily doesn’t catch another glimpse of him for the rest of the night. Not that she looks that often. Mary is the designated drink runner of the night – mainly because Marlene can’t be trusted and Lily is tired from work – and it’s all fun until some guy comes over and tries to plant one on her.

“Come on love, it’s just a bit of fun.”

Lily eyes the man in front of her. The flickering neon lights of the bar cast a sallow glow on his face as he grins lecherously at him. He might be considered attractive in a professional photo by the light of day – Lily briefly imagines his blond hair slicked back as he poses for a sleazy shot in a real estate magazine – but in the poorly lit pub, dishevelled from hours of drinking and nothing to hide the unnerving look in his eyes he’s really not. She keeps her hand firmly on his chest – straining against his weight as he tries to lean in – as she regards him cooly. 

“I don’t care if it’s a dare. The answer is no.” It’s firm and even despite her own downed margaritas. All she really wants is for him to leave – back to the table where three other men are eyeing them, or even better out of the bar completely – so she can finish her girl's night in peace.

His lips curl, and his smile turns even more unpleasant, but whatever he’s about to say gets cut off by the sudden splash of a margarita on his face. “Oi! You deaf?” Marlene shouts – a bit louder than necessary – over the music. “Fuck off or my glass is the next thing that’s going to hit your face.”

He looks just the type to be dumb enough to take Marlene up on her offer (even when her glass is poised to pitch in his face), but whether he’s suddenly chicken or notices how quiet the crowd around them has gone, he gives them one parting sneer (not very effective with droplets of Marlene’s drink running down his cheek), before turning and marching back through the crowd.

It’s not long before Lily’s weaving her way through the remaining crowd to pay.

“Lily! You’re going too fast!” Marlene clutches at Mary – the most sober by far – as she stands on one foot to undo the straps of her heels.

“Evening ladies! Have a good night?” The haughty smirk, high cheekbones and smooth posh tone in tandem with the gallery of ink displayed on his skin, the ripped jeans and the rings adorning his fingers all scream an odd I don’t give a fuck elegance. Lily’s eyes stray in search of his messy-haired, hazel-eyed coworker she’d clocked upon entering, but he’s nowhere to be found.

She forces her attention back to the man in front of her. His knowing smirk prickles her, but she’s come down from the high of her night and just wants to get home. “Hello! Can we split the tab for the corner table over there?”

“It’s taken care of.”

“But…” Lily frowns. “Are you sure? None of us have paid…”

“That guy who was bothering you did.”

“I didn’t peg him for the apologetic type,” Marlene jumps in, barefoot with shoes dangling from her fingertips. Lily hopes the floor gets a good clean each night.

“He wasn’t,” the bartender snorted. “More the born an arsehole, die an arsehole type.”

“Yet he wanted to buy our drinks?” Mary asked, her tone incredulous. “Why?”

“Who said anything about him wanting to?” The bartender slides a menu in front of them, tapping at the bottom.

10% surcharge on weekends, 15% on public holidays. Arsehole surcharge applies every day of the week.

“And he agreed to that?” He didn’t seem the type to go quietly.

“Think he was too smashed to notice.” When Lily lets out a disbelieving laugh accompanied by Marlene’s snort he shrugs in a not my problem way, picking up another glass to polish.

“I love your policy!” Marlene declares as she rifles through her purse. “Let me just see if I have cash for the tip….?.”

“Sirius. And don’t worry yourself love,” Sirius waves his polishing cloth carelessly. “We charged them for that too.”

“How much did you charge them exactly?” Marlene asks as her sweeping gaze appraises him.

“James charged them triple.” Sirius nods his head to where the messy-haired man has reappeared, biceps popping as he leans against the doorframe. “He was especially ticked off for some reason.” His voice turns knowing as he winks at Lily. 

James flushes as he tugs at his mess of curls. A zap of energy courses through Lily that has nothing to do with the alcohol in her veins. Her eyes stay a moment too long – too short for her, too long for Marlene – on the strip of flesh above the waistband of his jeans and when she blinks back to reality Sirius is still smirking while Marlene has dissolved into giggles as she grabs a napkin from the bar.

“Here you go James ,” Marlene says waving the napkin at him. For one horrible moment, Lily thinks she’s hitting on him, but then she wishes it was that at her friend's next words. “Here’s Lily’s number; my plethora of margaritas can’t keep from missing whatever this is.”

Her stomach summersaults as James takes the proffered napkin before holding it up to her in question. She nods slightly, unable to keep the smile from blooming as she drags Marlene towards the door. “Thanks for the drinks fellas!”  Yes, you can call me.

With any luck, she’ll be able to run her hands through his curls soon. Her flush deepens, heat running through her whole body as she imagines his head of curls between –

Her phone buzzes as the door swings shut.

Unknown Number: how about tomorrow?

[mightntbethebest]

Because I have the plague, here's some sick headcanons for the KF cast. I forgot a few characters but yk. I'm dying like George. [Under the cut so it doesn't fill your whole dash:]]

[You can tell when I got a migraine writing this lmao]

Forrest :

+ Bro is miserable. Just miserable. Even worse because he's older.

+ Nasally voice, but it sounds like he's twenty again, like, his voice is higher. Mine does that idk.

+ Constantly coughing once he goes off air from trying to sound normal, apologizes so much. Peggy makes fun of him.

Peggy! :

> Sopping wet cat face 23/7. Not even on purpose, her resting face is just a sad wet cat. Doing a customer service / work place credibility smile is hard when sick yk?

> Gets the sniffles somethin God awful. Tissues become her best friend [Sorry Karen]

> Really glad she doesn't have to do a lot of talking like Forrest does, it would drive her insane.

Marie :] :

- She doesn't even notice. Like she's inmune to getting sick for some magical reason? That or she's just really good at hiding it.

- She does get migraines though. Permanent knit brow. Unintentional glares good enough to rival her son's.

- Actually takes some sort of home medicine or remedy to help herself as soon as possible. She doesn't have time to be sick.

Henry! :

• Sopping wet cat face 2.0. Gets it from both parents. He just wants his mom:[

• Doesn't actually like to get help, figures he can do enough on his own--Marie does NOT let that slide. Not for her son.

• Literally just. So pouty. Hates getting sick.

George :] :

= Sopping wet cat 3.0. Absolutely miserable because Marie makes him stay in bed to relax.

= Staying in bed is something he is not good at. Can and has been caught doing chores around the place when he was supposed to be sleeping.

= Gets uber pouty when he can't go to non required events. Like, how dare they keep him bedridden for his own health. >:[.

Roller Ricky <3:

< Max is there to help, but when be gets sick he gets SICK, y'know?

< Maxy appreciates all the love he gets from Ricky hough. He spends a lot of his time resting to heal up, and when he gets a break between flares, he practices roller disco dances.

< Takes his free time seriously, and spends it doing self care to actually help his illness.

Carrie ! :

- Pissed that she still has to go to school. Gets to see Jeanie and Hot David though.

- Definitely does not go to bed on her usual time. Either crashes out early or is up till 3. No in-between.

- Gets her friends sick and feels REALLY bad about it. But at least if it gets to enough students then they can have a day off :]

Murphy ‼️:

- The best at home remedies a man coukd ask for. Definitely seems the time to take his good health seriously. Especially after Fernando was born.

- If he got Fernando sick he'd feel terrible about it, but give that baby the BEST care possible.

- Takes his time to rest and recuperate before doing anything he was able to put off. Likely watching TV or listening to The Scream.

Dr. Virginia Sullivan :] :

- Strangely enough, she puts her own health on the back burner. Out of habit and due to her sister's health.

- But when she can, she takes small steps to feel better when needed. She can't go into work sick after all.

- Her free time is spent on comfortable self care.

Maurice ';{ :

- Dude for the love of God please realize that you are in fact sick. Take a day off. It will be fine.

- Ignores his illness out of spite. It was just the way he grew up more than likely.

- His coworkers do as much as they can to keep him corralled in his main office though, so it doesn't spread.

Eugene B} :

- Takes a day off of school so he doesn't get anyone else sick. He cares about his class mates :]

- Spends his free time catching up on work, shows, or books.

- If he can, he'll phone friend to talk to after school hours.

Sandra :

- Another one who cares about her physical health. If it's bad enough she can't jazzercise, she does yoga to help anything physical. Even if it's just stretching to make her feel better.

- Keeps the studio closed and clean so no one else gets sick.

- Takes showerd hot enough to turn her into a lobster for the night.

Casey :

- Actually goes to the doctor. I feel like after what happened with Jason, she'd be a little more concerned about how to help someones health--And that includes her own!

- Goes on morning walks to feel a little better, especially if it's in the winter.

- If she feels up to it, she might do some singing:] I think she'd have a wonderful singing voice. Plus, it'd help with any congestion I've learned.

Jason :

- He definitely didn't care too much before WN87, but afterwards it became a mandatory thing for him to get himself checked out. He's kinda paranoid.

- Phones Casey or Chuck when he's got the time and feels a little better. If neither are available, he'll watch some TV and order a light dinner.

- Takes his down time to catch up on any sports or events.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ The favorites ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

Author's note: This is my new favorites list. My old ones are still available through my old masterlist. This one is just updated and I cleaned up the links that didn't work anymore. Sorry to every writer who gets another notice that they have been mentioned, do know that I still love you very freaking much. I'm just going through a re-brand and cleanup phase :)

* = smut

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Arthur Morgan ♡

*Thursdays by @the-karma-cafe Summary: in which the boys are curious where Arthur runs off to every thursday night

*Big Iron by @grugruel

*Bold as love by @woman-of-balnain Summary: reader is jealous after seeing mary and arthur hanging out.

*As far as dreams go by @serawritesthings Summary: While Arthur found sanction in his dreams, you would fret about them every night. While he longed for the sweet caress of your hands, you were unknowing, fooled by his stoic facade as your dreams only brought you nightmares. (There is a part 2)

Captive by @queenxxxsupreme Summary: On your way back to camp, the O’Driscolls attack.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ John Marston ♡

Dating golden boy John Marston HC's by @devnmon

*It's certainly heaven if you're here, Darlin' by @2dmenenthusiast Summary: You're life with John was constantly filled with ups and downs. Hopefully you can both make it together in one piece.

*Summer love at Bighorn Ranch by @holyratrimony Summary: After his divorce from Abigail, John Marston is a mess. A series of rash decisions lead to John purchasing a rundown piece of land called Bighorn Ranch. As the ranch grows, so does the need for extra hands. When you show up, ready for your new job, John is immediately taken with you. When you get caught in a thunderstorm and show up on his doorstep, soaking wet, will he be able to keep his feelings to himself, or will he confess everything? 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Joel Miller ♡

*Say you love me by @thot-of-khonshu Summary:  Red wine. Rage. Regret. Reunions. When pride separates you from the man that got away in 2003, you thought you’d never see him again. But when going to tie loose ends for Bill and Frank, you see him and a young companion.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Henry Cavill ♡

L’aurore by @fvckinghenrycavill Summary:  a fluffy morning with Henry and his beard that he has to shave.

*Drunk in love by @angrythingstarlight Summary:  Drunk Henry comes home wanting a little taste of his favorite snack.

Love bite by @delicate-moon-princess Summary:  It was just a little love bite. Who knew Henry could be so dramatic?

*Doctor and Mr. Cavill by @ramp-it-up Summary:  Kal’s favorite Veterinarian, nerd activities and Henry.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Henry Cavill's Sherlock ♡

Jigsaw by @andsheloved Summary:  as you wonder what it would be like for him to return your affections, Sherlock finally understands what he would sacrifice to fit within your world.

We’ll be alright by @love-strawberry Summary: in which they fight but there's no doubt that they'll end up alright.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Clark Kent ♡

*Need by @aimless-imagines-for-fun Summary:  A little make out session between you and Clark gets heated and this time, you two get to go all the way.

∘₊✧─────────���─────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Captain Syverson ♡

*And so much more... by @sillyrabbit81 Summary:  After a disappointing date, your best friend's older brother picks you up to take you home.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Carmen Berzatto ♡

*After hours by @ilongfor-the-arts Summary:  Reader is a friend of his or more of a coworker but she finds Carmy attractive and one day someone says something about him, just for a laugh, nothing really mean and reader chimes in with a “ I’d totally sit on his face”?

*You’re my girl by @ilongfor-the-arts Summary: The meat delivery guy flirts with you and Carmen doesn’t like it.

*“Bad“ at this by @ilongfor-the-arts Summary: They like each other but neither wants to admit it. Tension builds until the kettle starts screaming.

*Learning in public by @ohcaptains Summary:  you didn’t think he’d enjoy it that much. didn’t think he’d want more, too.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Halsin ♡

*Oh, to be alone with you by @galacticgraffiti

*In need of a healer by @scratchandfriends

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Love and Deepspace ♡

*Top tier eaters by @syluslovies

*Eating you out by @rose-tinted-kalopsia

*Favorite positions by @shomatoriashi

*Shot, shot, shot, shot! by @aeyumicore Summary: what happens when the four love and deepspace men get drunk and jealous? there's only one cure and it's in between your legs!

Princess treatment by @mephisto-reporting

*"Is it in yet?" by @cute-little-crow

*NNN by @jinwoosbabyboo

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Xavier ♡

*Delicious Desire by @lostinlads Summary: after a heavy makeout session, xavier finds out that you've never been eaten out. he takes it upon himself to bless you with his mouth

*Xavier is an insatiable little freak by @missaengg

*No restraint by @aeyumicore

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

♡ Jeon Jungkook ♡

*miss taken by @junghelioseok

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

[danndeemo]

What's up with three and twins and how does that make him remember his past?

no fucking way agent 3 lore

3 has a (emo) twin brother, who was his parent's favorite. but it wasn't like, too bad. at some point 3 began liking the fact that he wasn't the favorite child because of how much extra work with studying his brother was put through. 3 was like the adopted brother, except he wasn't adopted and him and his brother used to look almost identical when younger. the only reason they changed their appearances was just so that others wouldn't confuse them.

3 has no grudge against his brother, if anything he was 3's only real friend. 3 tried to make friends, but it just never turned out so in the end he was always the replaceable one and he always was the one to initiate the conversation, nobody came up to him to talk.

3's parents really wanted their sons to have a music career, so when 3 wasn't able to play any instrument as good as his younger brother it was clear he would be a disappointment and unworthy of "being shown off" to other parents or anyone (3's parents are obsessed with being praised for either their or their children's talents/skills).

it was fine when his brother was home, as he was the only family member who talked to 3 as often, but when his brother was in music school or at some sort of camp, 3 would feel like he isn't part of the family and instead some kid his parents were nice enough to house. his interaction with his mother were just her telling him about what food they have in the house, and how to prepare some meals so that when she doesn't have time 3 could at least feed himself.

it wasn't blind favoritism though, at some point 3's parents did notice the neglect of their older son, so in some cases they would try to spend time with him while the younger was busy with something like piano practice. but 3 felt like they were being forced to do that, and he hates it when people do things for him not because they want to, so he decided to "not be a burden" and try to find another way to preoccupy himself.

seeing twins on the streets doesn't remind 3 of how bad his childhood might have been, it mainly reminds him of his choice to run away from home. of things he lost that night. back then, he thought his intentions were reasonable, but later he realized the stupidity of his decision, but it was too late, so he continued living his life alone in inkopolis plaza.

before becoming an agent his life was just constant stress, and every now and then he'd break down in his apartment. he'd cry for some time late at night in his bed, but he knew coming back home wouldn't make his life easier. in his case he got lucky to join squidbeak splatoon and meet Craig Callie and Marie. it took him some time for their relationship to become an actual friendship instead of being just coworkers, and it was like, the best thing that happened to 3 in years.

3 also met neo back then, and their friendship made him realize how much he just didn't understand how friends work after he stopped trying to make friends as a kid.

in general, 3's life gets better for him after octo expansion, when he realizes, that even with his face being scarred, 4 can still love him, and others aren't actually disgusted by it as much as he thought they'd be. it gets easier for him to feel self worth after he gains 8 as a friend and later 4 as a lover.

3 does feel guilty about leaving his family and not even updating them with letters or anything like that. the only person 3 really feels bad about leaving behind is his brother, but right now he's just debating on whether he should try to find him or have things remain the same.

his family issues are the reason he only mentions his first name, because he thinks his life would be over if by some chance 4 or any of his close friends would happen to know his family for their music history.

another fact is that his and his brother's tentacles were reddish orange and pink when young, so now wearing orange ink is a little awkward for 3 and wearing pink just makes him remember his brother. it's not too bad for him though, just brings down his mood a little

sorry if it's bad or cringe it's just like that

[marshmallowgoop]

one last call

Part of the DCMK Fanworks Server April Fools Exchange! For koscheib.

————

It's the first of April when Mary Sera receives a phone call that's every bit an unfunny joke before she even picks up. She lets it ring once, two times, three, the sound a fake, generic replication of the past, reminiscent of spinning fingers through numbers, twirling twisted cords. The bustle of the cafe is almost enough to drown it out—forks hitting porcelain, boring, unobjectionable music played quietly on speakers surrounding white-clothed tables, gasps of chatter from other patrons. It's not like Mary ever keeps the ringer volume loud.

But it feels loud, that afternoon, in the early spring sun, the wind carrying with it the reek of freshly cut grass and fertilizer. It feels like her oldest crying in the night, only days old. Like a gunshot that doesn't belong.

She shouldn't pick up.

It rings a fourth time, and she does.

“What?” she asks. There's a screech of her metal chair against concrete as she leans back. Her hat should shield her from the heat, but it still feels too warm. “You need money? Your husband run out on you? Kid leave home and tell you that they're joining the circus?”

The voice that answers is brimming with a weariness that should make Mary pause.

(She does not.)

“Nee-chan,” it sighs, exhaustion lined with melancholy. “It's nothing like that.”

“Someone's dead, then?”

“No.” Another sigh. “I just wanted to talk to you.”

Mary could laugh. She doesn't. “You didn't want to talk when my second son was born. Or after Tsutomu got so sick that he couldn't stand. But you want to talk now?”

“Yes.”

Mary waits a moment, two, three. But there are no apologies this time, no excuses melting under the weight of too many tears. There's only an ordinary phrase, something said to casual acquaintances when you unexpectedly cross paths at a grocery store. There's only a sharp intake of breath, a pause, a, I hope you've been doing well.

For a moment (two, three), Mary says nothing. She looks to the clock situated by one of the many speakers (still softly blaring the blandest, most unobtrusive music that feels suddenly mocking now in its syrupy inoffensiveness). The structure strikes her as falsely old-fashioned as her ringtone—curled golden numbers and a just-audible click as the seconds tick by. It's six and a half minutes past the time when he was supposed to be here.

She should hang up. Say that she has company now—the kind who doesn't call her once in a blue moon and act as though no time has passed.

There's nothing stopping her. Nothing, except a tired voice that continues, “It's been too long since we last talked.”

It's said like she's on the brink of tears. Like they're children again, attending school in Japan, and classmates had called her scary, monstrous, mocked her golden hair.

But Elena would never admit to it. Not her own pain. Even now, Elena will never admit to it.

Mary despises the memory.

“But something happened today, in Japan,” her sister continues. “I work with such... serious individuals, but today there was a case on the news, and—oh, you might have heard of it all the way over there in England, actually, because he first appeared in France, but today, it was a whole event, a big spectacle right here in Japan. He put out this notice—this thief, I mean, there's this thief in a flashy white costume that they're calling Phantom Thief 1412, or Kaitou Kid—there's an author who coined that name, I think—but anyway, he said he was going to steal this jewel today, and I think maybe my coworkers actually cracked a smile about it.”

“It sounds like you did, too.”

“Maybe,” answers Elena quickly, as though afraid that Mary would hang up. (She should hang up.) “It reminded me of a school play we did. Do you remember? Memoirs of Itaro, the Detective, it was called, I think. It focused on a similar character, the Edo Kid.” Something like laughter rings in Mary's ear. “Kaitou Kid's gimmick is magic, though, not acrobatics. But there's that same charisma, cocky attitude...”

Elena trails off, and for a moment, there's nothing. Only the repetitive music, the ticking of the clock, the heat of the afternoon beating down on Mary's skin.

Classmates used to always find Elena frightening. She spoke so little that people wondered if she even understood Japanese. Mary always found it a ridiculous notion. Once you got Elena talking, she would never stop.

It was just a matter of getting her to start.

Mary shouldn't have picked up.

“The detective's name was in the title of the play,” Elena says now, and there's still that hint of laughter to her tone, the kind that says she's crying-laughing, but the tears aren't ones of mirth. “So you're supposed to think he's the good guy, right? But...”

Elena can't compose herself. She erupts into giggles, guffaws, big, loud howls that drown out her words. There are several moments of wheezing, struggling for air, and Mary removes the phone from her ear, finger hovering over the end call button, only for Elena to regain herself and say, “But when you played the role, you were so scary that everyone was rooting for the thief! No one even felt bad when you made the wrong deduction.”

The laughter dies away, and Elena's voice takes on a note of seriousness as she adds, “Good thing they got me to play the Edo Kid when my class did the play a few years later. Everyone thought the detective was so cool then. Who played the role...? I can't remember anymore, but—“

“I know you didn't call me to talk about a stupid school play from over two decades ago.” Mary crosses her legs, thinks better on it and uncrosses them, leans forward and leans back. No one approaches her table, not even a server pitying the empty seat. The seconds tick on and on.

Elena falters. "N-no," she says. "I guess not, but..."

But what? Mary wants to say. She almost does. It's on the tip of her tongue—impassioned, angry monologues about how Elena has no right to call her now, after everything, but she hesitates, and looks to the white umbrella that may as well be absent for how little shade it casts on her, and Elena takes advantage of the silence, continuing, very quietly, "It just... reminded me of simpler times, you know? That Kaitou Kid. A criminal who doesn't seem dangerous, who steals but gives people smiles, or... I don't know."

There's a rustling from the other side. Mary imagines her sister brushing her hair out of her face, wiping cheeks still stained with wet tears.

"Real life isn't like some primary school play," Mary tells her, commanding, matter-of-fact, like she always is, like she has to be. "I haven't concerned myself with this phantom thief of yours, but a criminal is a criminal, no matter how 'fun' they might seem."

She keeps herself from adding, And that was exactly the purpose of Itaro's story. Loathe as she might be to admit it, she too had never forgotten the tale.

"You're right," says Elena. "You're right. But the way the exact same lines can be read so differently depending on how they're said... how a thief can seem to be a hero..." She trails off again, and Mary imagines her shaking her head as she makes out a familiar figure in the crowd.

"Look," Mary starts to say, eyes fixated on the man coming ever closer, "I have to—“

"I know you're busy," Elena interrupts. "And-and-and I don't want to take any more of your time, but..."

"Then don't," answers Mary.

She hangs up. She stands. She doesn't smile at Tsutomu, and he doesn't smile back.

[askthelordofdespair]

Arachnophobia part one

Bad English, my bad!

The nights in Gotham were always dark. Strange that Jeff Carter hadn't noticed it before. Not really. He had, but he'd never paid much attention to it. Never before had the familiar streets and alleys seemed so dark and uncomfortable. And besides, he had the feeling that someone was watching him. Jeff shook his head. No. He had to chase those thoughts away. He began to actively listen to everything he could hear. Fortunately for him, life in Gotham was always bustling. Even now, at night, you could hear a lot of things: the distant wail of police sirens, the noise of cars, someone's family quarrel. Speaking of quarrels. Jeff hoped he could avoid another scandal at home. They'd been happening more and more lately. Yes, he'd gotten drunk again. Yes, he was "out and about" again. Guilty. But what else could he do? His boss was giving him a hard time at work, his wife had gotten fat after giving birth, his newborn daughter was screaming and wouldn't let him sleep. Little Mary turned out to be an extremely vocal and nervous child. She screamed loudly and with pleasure, pissed off her parents on every occasion. Lack of sleep affected both of them: Sarah became sharp and irritable, Jeff avoided his flabby wife and spent more and more time out of the house. The cozy bar "Green Fairy" gladly opened its doors to everyone from seven in the evening until three in the morning. There the unfortunate family man and a group of others like him poured out their sorrows.

The yelling got even louder. It sounded like Jack was being shouted at somewhere. Willy-nilly, our hero began to listen.

"Come home, you shameless bastard! You bastard! What are you talking about? You can't even say two words, can you?"

Probably the hapless Jack was answering something, because the disgruntled (rightfully so) wife continued to shout.

"What? Did you celebrate a coworker's birthday? I know your birthdays. Every day you have a party. And your friends are the same." There was indistinct mumbling, from which Jeff could only make out two words: "dear" and "neighbors".

"The neighbors already know! You woke up the whole block on your way home. What were you singing? "Smoke on the water"? Really?"

Smoke on the water? It's not a bad idea, though. Why don't I sing it to him? At least it'd be a little less depressing. Jeff took in a full chest of air and sang:

We all came out to Montreaux

On the Lake Geneva shoreline

To make records with a Mobile

We didn't have much time...

It felt better. Shoulders squared and breathing became easier. His footsteps became wider and clearer. Jeff was no longer frightened or looking around. He walked like the king of the street, with a bold, brave (though lurching) gait. He looked proudly in front of him, paying no attention to anything else. Before he could even blink an eye, he had reached the end of the house, where he could hear the cries of his angry wife and the babble of Jack's excuses. Suddenly an elderly shout came from the window:

"Stop yelling, drunkard, people are asleep! You can't sleep here, and they're howling under the window!"

"Hush, hush," Carter replied with dignity (as it seemed to him).

"Damn it! Stop howling!"

All right, all right. Why are you all so nervous around here? - he muttered. Turned to look at the one who had scolded him. And stunned. Behind him, almost breathing down his neck, stood a black figure in rags. Tall, menacing, it towered over him. Jeff had never been short, but beside her he felt like a child. And the man hardly seemed to have good intentions. The man screamed and rushed running down the street. The figure followed him. Carter tried his best, but his drunken body wouldn't listen, and his legs began to tangle. He rushed to the door, but it wouldn't open. He started calling for help, but the houses were deaf to his pleas. Even in those apartments where the lights were still on, there was silence. The family quarrel instantly subsided. Everyone listened. The people of Gotham knew the basic law of the city: do not interfere. Suddenly Jeff felt a burning sensation in his neck. The world in front of his eyes swirled and went black.

[skinnyfatq]

A mostly true story about my former coworker, Pat

This is about a real coworker of mine who turned out to be a gainer. It’s only slightly embellished to make it a bit more readable.

1. Fat Pat

The first time I saw Pat, I hope my mouth didn’t fall open too much. He was the fattest man I’d ever seen on two feet, and certainly the fattest man I’d ever seen in real life.

The first year or so I worked with him (really, alongside him, because our roles were very different), I didn’t know much about him other than when he was coming down the old, narrow hallway, you better get out of the way because there wasn’t room for you to get past him.

He was about 5’5” and my guess was that his weight was 550+ pounds when I started there, more when I left. His double-chin was bigger and stuck out farther than his real chin. His glasses were too small for his face. He struggled to type and manipulate small objects with his extra pudgy hands and fingers.

Pat waddled and swayed and shuffled back and forth on soles squished flat under his tremendous weight. His desk chair was commissioned by our IT guy directly from an office furniture company to hold up to 700 pounds. Even with that capacity, he still had to wedge himself between the armrests until one of them gave up and broke off.

If I saw Pat during my daily activities, he was either in his office or he was eating or getting food. I’d see him in the kitchen or break room or he’d be buying candy from the vending machine. It didn’t take me long to figure out that he was a gainer.

2. Asking Mary about Pat

I finally built up the nerve to start asking another coworker about him:

“Has Pat always been so…large?”

“No. I think the first time I met him he was maybe a little pudgy but nowhere close to what he is now.” Mary said. “Things started to change after he got married.”

“Really? That’s a lot of relationship weight!”

“Yeah,” she said, “ironically his wife’s a nutritionist and skinny as a rail.”

“Hmm,” I said. I wanted to dig in further but I figured that was enough for now. Being a chubby chaser and, at the time, a closet gainer myself, I kind of lost my nerve.

Some time passed and I finally picked up the conversation again. Mary and I were sitting in the break room and we saw him waddle past.

“Hey Mary,” I tried to keep my voice as low as I could. “Do you think Pat’s wife actually likes him heavy?”

“No. As a matter of fact, it’s common knowledge that she doesn’t.”

“It’s weird that he would gain so much weight after they got together.”

“I think it’s a kind of rebellion.” She stared down into her coffee cup.

I shot a quizzical look, even though I could relate in a way.

“The truth is,” she said still staring down, “and I didn’t tell you this, but she actually packs his lunches.”

“What is she giving him?” I smiled. “Entire pizza, and an entire pie for dessert?”

“She’s packing him low-calorie meals to try make him lose weight. She thinks that’s all he’s eating all day when we all know it’s not.”

My penis was hard. I was glad I was sitting at a table. I didn’t want to but I had to change the subject so I could get on with the day.

3. Spying on Pat

One day, my curiosity got the better of me and I had to find out more. I was having a light work day so I made a point to try to uncover more about fat Pat.

At that time, I was still very much a chaser and hadn’t yet unleashed my inner gainer. I was still athletic and thin and light on my feet. Pat was 10-15 years older, pretty myopic and somewhat hard of hearing. I figured I could follow him around without him knowing.

The first thing I noticed was an empty bag of chips and an opened Coke can on his desk. I didn’t know whether he had eaten the chips already that day or the previous day. He was not in his office at the time so I took a peek and found that it was completely empty.

When I found him he was making his rounds—talking to his boss. His arms were resting on a countertop, with his torso leaning forward. His massive gut spilled over a strained waistband that must have been 60” or more.

He hoisted himself up vertically and began to shuffle in the direction of his office. I quickly moved out of sight.

I went the long way around and back toward Pat’s office so if he was looking at his computer screen he wouldn’t see me. As I got closer I saw that he had a small Tupperware container in front of him. It was empty but dirty. When the hell did he have a chance to eat that? I wondered because he was just talking to his boss. The only thing he does fast is eat!

I wondered if that Tupperware contained the lunch packed by his wife. I thought it was amazing that he was eating lunch at 9:30 am. I was getting hard again so I took a little break. I went back to my desk and obsessed about what it would be like to eat that much…and be that fat!

At about 11:30 Pat was called to the front door. I had noticed that he does get called to the front quite frequently. I raced to the front myself and got there before he did. It…was…Domino’s. He ate his wife’s lunch for a snack and ordered a pizza for his real lunch! It made me wonder if they had separate bank accounts; otherwise, how would he get away with ordering all this extra food.

I dashed back to a little storage room near Pat’s office and when I heard him shuffle back inside, I crept closer. I could hear him eating! He was definitely eating fast. I could feel myself getting turned on both imagining him getting even fatter and resolving to try to eat more and get fatter myself.

4. Pat the inspiration

My curiosity was satisfied and I stopped spying so closely. In later weeks and months, I’d talk to Pat more, help him get candy that was stuck in the vending machine out, and get cupcakes off of the top of the fridge where some mean ladies had put them so he wouldn’t get them.

I have since changed jobs and cities and grown fatter myself, but I won’t forget him and what he taught me.