#air to breathe. and jesus fuck can someone find the files for all the shit they never released and leak them or something

[infizero]

i was waiting to revisit loona stuff as one big Event but i was literally getting ill with how much i miss them so i cheated and rewatched hula hoop mv and my favorite teasers. and now its even worse 😁

[peakyblindersxx]

come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”

[moon-light-jukebox]

You’re not my type [Hotch x Reader]

Summary: Reader is the new press liaison to the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. A stray comment from her leads to a lot of questions from her teammates, especially her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. When they’re thrown together on a case that hits close to home for Reader, will that comment tear them apart? Or will it bring them closer together?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst then smut, with plenty of fluff sprinkled throughout.

Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warning: This gets pretty angst heavy in places. The team is chasing an Unsub that’s a serial r*pist/mu*derer. Mentions of an attempted a*sault to someone Reader cares about. Providing comfort to victims of the unsub. It’s dark in places, but if you can stick with me, I promise I will mend the angst and take you to the land of smut and fluff. Because there is plenty of smut.

A/n: Have you ever had a story that just grabbed hold of you and refused to let go? This story was supposed to be half this length and pure fluff. Reader and Hotch dug their claws into me and made me tell their own story. I’m not mad at it, and if you give it a chance, I hope you love it as much as I do. masterlist

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text = reader’s thoughts

--“You’re not my type” --

The clock was moving so slowly, I couldn't help but think it was moving backward.

Come on, hurry up. I wanna go home.

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that it was going to be 4:30 pm for the rest of my life. I still had some files to hand out to the team; I usually do that part of my very glamorous job in the mornings, but since I had nothing but time now, I thought why not.

I had been a “sort of” member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for 5 months. Jennifer- wait, JJ, had the job as media liaison before me; she was the last person to officially hold the position. When she left the unit chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner, and the technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, had split the roll. That is until Chief Strauss had decided that she wanted the BAU to run more efficiently. Meaning that Hotch got less paperwork, Garcia got a break from talking about mutilated bodies, and I got shuffled around from the public relations office.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed working with the team, I really did, but I couldn't help but feel excluded sometimes. They're all practically a family. I didn't really have any sort of family anymore, just a best friend that has always felt more like a sister.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I made my way towards the bullpen, shoving the doors open to see the team sitting on various desks talking to each other. Loudly.

“Shut UP, man!” Derek Morgan’s voice was loud, but amusement was clear on his face. Actually, everyone seemed sort of amused. Rossi and Hotch were leaning on the railing near their respective offices, watching the events unfold with smiles on their faces.

Hotch smiles? Huh. Weird.

I quickly tried to make my way around them, hoping none of them would notice me.

“Okay, I know how we can settle this. Y/n!” Shit. No such luck. I turned to look at Emily Prentiss, with her long dark hair and angular face. Why is everybody here so fucking pretty?

I cleared my throat, trying to compose my face. “Yes?”

“Answer something for us.” Everyone seemed very eager for me to be a part of this now, which I didn’t think was a good sign.

“I’ll do my best.”

She smiled at me like she was sensing her victory. "If Morgan asked you on a date, what would you say?"

Oh, they couldn’t have picked a worse person to play this game.

I chuckled awkwardly, trying to appear calm. “Um…I’d probably say no.” Morgan took a dramatically loud breath before slapping his hand to his chest. “No offense,” I quickly added.

Morgan wasn’t giving up his dramatics that easily. “Damn, girl! You’re gonna cut me down just like that?”

“I’m sorry,” I said with an awkward laugh. “You’re just not my type.”

Garcia’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Excuse me? He’s not your type? Tall, dark, and extremely well-muscled isn’t your type?” She scoffed like I was insane; I mean, maybe I was. Jury’s out.  “What about that is unappealing to you?”

I couldn’t think of a believable lie, so I went with the truth. “The tall and extremely well-muscled part.” I shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

Emily blinked. “O-okay. Fair enough,” she laughed, looking at me like she’d never seen me before.

I was preparing to turn and make a very quick escape, but JJ had other plans. "Woah, woah, woah," the blonde hopped off the desk, walking a bit closer to me. "If Morgan isn't your type…who is?"

Fuck me running. “Um…” I trailed off. “I don’t think I really have a type, to be honest.”

"Do you like men," Morgan chimed in. "No judgment, little mama."

Not for the first time, I wished I was a lesbian. “I am sadly mostly heterosexual.” I was convinced no one could be completely heterosexual, it just didn’t seem natural.

Emily chuckled at that. “Okay then,” her hand moved up to adjust her dark bangs, something she did when she was thinking. “What if Hotch asked you out?”

“Okay, okay, don’t drag me into this,” the Unit Chef boomed out, much to Rossi’s amusement.

“…Um.” Why couldn’t I just die? “Sorry, boss, but no.”

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. “Is Hotch also too tall and well-muscled.”

“Probably,” I answered without much thought. “I can’t comment on the state of his muscles. But he’s very…big. And he intimidates me.” I didn’t let my eyes stray to my boss; I simply couldn’t.

"Ah-ha. There it is!" Morgan slapped his hands together like he had solved some big puzzle. "You don't like men that intimidate you. So, if pretty boy over here asked you out, you'd say yes."

I didn't know a person's ears could blush until that moment when my eyes drifted over to Dr. Spencer Reid. The tips of his ears were bright pink and he was looking anywhere but at me.

I answered honestly again, I figured they’d know if I lied. Fucking profilers. “Yeah, I would say yes. But only if I didn’t know him.” Spencer’s eyes finally shifted over towards me. “You’re easily one of the most brilliant people in the world. You’d be bored to tears on a date with me,” I said, my gaze meeting his wide eyes.

The boy genius’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side, his lips moving like he muttered something under his breath.

Is it 5 yet?

JJ wasn’t totally prepared to let this go, because she asked, “Okay, so a yes to Spence, a no to Hotch and Morgan.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “What about Will? You’ve met my husband, right?”

I had indeed met her husband with his Princess and The Frog accent. I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I met him the other day when he brought your son by. And…I don’t know, maybe him. He doesn’t give off an air of intimidation.” Which was the nicest way I could say ‘your husband doesn’t scare the shit out of me.’

I glanced down at my watch, seeing it was finally 4:55 pm. “Sorry guys, I need to get these files out before I go home.” With an overly bright smile, I darted away as fast as my uncomfortable shoes would let me.

My final stop was Hotch’s office, and I was so relieved that he wasn’t in it for once. I placed the file on his desk, looking at the pictures of a little boy, his son, I assumed, on his desk.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

I'm not sure what I was more embarrassed by, the tiny yelp that escaped my lips or how I smacked my hand over my chest in such a dramatic fashion that I could have given Derek Morgan a run for his money. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hotch! You scared the shit out of me!"

His lips twitched in poorly concealed amusement, either at my reaction or my swearing at him. “Sorry, y/n. I didn’t know I needed to knock before I entered my office. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Oh, this guy has jokes now too.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his dry humor. “I’m sorry. I startle easily. I didn’t mean to swear at you.”

“Y/n, I’ve been with the bureau for almost 20 years. Trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

I bet he has.

“Well,” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Alright then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

“Of course,” he stepped out of the doorway so I could exit. “Y/n?” He said it like it was an afterthought. “Do you really find me intimidating?”

My eyes were wide as I looked all the way up at him. Really, what was the point in being that tall? "Oh, absolutely, sir." Then I hurried out the door, not wanting to see his reaction or lack thereof.

--

After stopping by my office, I was waiting for the elevator when I felt someone behind me; turning I saw the pretty boy himself standing awkwardly off to my side. I offered him a small smile before shifting my attention back to the bank of elevators in front of me.

The middle one opened first, Spencer waved me in first before he entered and hit the button for the ground floor.

He was clearly working up his nerves to say something, you didn’t have to be a profiler to see that. “Hey, um, y/n?” I turned my head in his direction, waiting for him to continue. “What you said back there…that you’d go on a date with me if I asked, did you mean that?”

There was that blush again, he really was adorable. “Of course, I meant it, Spencer.” He didn’t look convinced. “I mean, why would I lie? I turned Morgan down right away. And Hotch, who is my boss.”

Spencer let out a small laugh at that, unable to argue against my point. “I guess that’s true.” The elevator doors opened, he waved me out first, again, before exiting himself. “Do you really think that I’d be bored on a date with you?”

"I mean, you have 3 Ph.D.'s and a super high IQ." I waved my free hand around, gesturing to myself like it would help me prove my point. "And look at me. I'm smart, but I'm not that smart. I couldn't put you through a date like that."

He didn’t seem to appreciate my self-deprecating humor. I headed for the doors without giving him a chance to respond. “Have a good night, Dr. Reid!” I offered a small wave before I all but sprinted out the doors towards the parking garage.

Why? Just why?

--

“We have to catch him before this turns into a spree,” Hotch’s voice was grave, his face the same stern mask it always was. “Wheels up in 30.”

Taking that as a dismissal, the team rose from the table, hurrying towards their respective desks to get their go-bags. That was the part of this job that took the longest to get used to. I never traveled much in public relations; now I'm on a plane several times a week. That in itself wouldn't be so bad…if I didn't still get terrible motion sickness. I don’t know why I hadn’t gotten used to it yet, but I had to keep some non-drowsy motion sickness pills in my go-bag at all times. I tried to take them before I boarded the jet; it was probably silly, but I didn’t really want the team to know. They were all superheroes in my eyes; superheroes don’t get motion sickness.

I was the last one to board the jet today. I was usually one of the first onboard, but I got held up on my way here speaking to someone from my old office. When I came through the plane's doors there rest of the team was spread out. Dr. Reid was laying on the couch, book propped open in his lap. Emily and JJ were on one side of the table with Morgan and Rossi on the other. The only seats available were towards the back of the plane; I could have sat by myself…or I could sit in the seat across from Hotch.

I always get anxiety about things other people find silly. I’m a grown woman, I should be more confident; I’m a fucking FBI agent for god’s sake. Yet here I was, nervously trying to decide where to sit. It would be weird to not sit near him, I reasoned. Offering Hotch a tight smile before I stored my go-bag, I sat down across the aisle from him.

I fastened my seatbelt over my lap, taking deep breaths through my nose. I had taken my medicine, but take off always got me a little bit, no matter what. I never took a window seat either, sometimes I’d look out and see how fast the world was passing by underneath us and…I shuddered just thinking about it.

"Hey," the voice beside me called, his voice was so quiet I don't think any of the others could hear it. I opened my eyes and turned to face him. His dark eyes looked oddly soft like he was concerned about me. "Are you alright?"

I offered him a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay, Hotch.”

"Did you take your medicine?" At my puzzled expression, he clarified. "For motion sickness."

What in the- “How did you know I get motion sickness?”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I’m a profiler, y/n, and I’ve been one for a long time.”

A little chuckle left my lips at that, right as the plane started moving forward, gaining speed for takeoff. I closed my eyes, telling myself that it was the impending take off that was causing my stomach to flutter, not the fact that my boss, who I thought was always indifferent to me, noticed me more than I thought he did.

--

Cases with kids were the hardest, there was no question about it. For me, the second hardest cases were women who were assaulted. It filled my gut with such a heavy, boiling rage whenever I thought about it. These women were just living their lives, unaware of the danger that was hunting them. Some fucking monster decided that being a man in our society didn’t offer him enough power; he had to hurt women, try to take their power so that he could feel more powerful.

I had heard stories about Elle Greenaway, the agent that resigned under suspicion that she shot a rapist in cold blood. I never commented on it, but I can’t say as I blame her. That attitude is probably why I don’t comment on it, I thought dryly.

The unsub the team was hunting in Northern Texas was a serial rapist and murderer. He had claimed 3 victims in the past 2 weeks; the locals were concerned that his pattern and level of violence were escalating too rapidly. The BAU agreed.

They started piecing this monster together through the clues he left behind. A white male, mid 30's, has a high-power job, won't be able to have stable relationships with women. They were tracking his comfort zone, interviewing families, and canvassing for information.

My job was to warn the women of this small town that there was a monster lurking in the shadows.

The team was sitting around in a small room in the center of the police station that was crammed with evidence boards. Emily was leaned back in her chair, JJ's head resting on her shoulder. Dr. Reid was facing the map of the county like if he stared at it long enough and answer would just pop into his head. Morgan's head was in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Rossi and Hotch were talking in the corner, glancing around the room every so often.

Eventually, our leader cleared his throat. "Okay, lets head back to the hotel." At the groans of a few team members, he pressed on. "I know, I want to find this guy too. But we all need rest. We'll come back tomorrow with fresh eyes."

With that, we all headed to the black SUVs parked outside, ready to head to whatever hotel the bureau put us in for the night. The drive was quick, we all stood in the lobby while Hotch spoke to whoever was at the front desk. The conversation seemed to take longer than I needed to.

He walked back over, looking mildly uncomfortable. “There aren’t enough open rooms,” he said at last. “We’ll have to double up.” He held out his hand which contained 3 key cards.

…Wait a minute. “There are 7 of us.”

Hotch nodded. “Therein lies the problem. One room will have to have 3 people.”

I turned towards Emily and JJ, assuming I’d just room with them when Rossi interrupted. “No offense, guys. But…I’m old,” he laughed, his whole face lighting up. “I need my beauty sleep. I’m not sharing a room. I’ll go get my own.”

"They don't have any rooms, Dave."

Rossi looked at Hotch with a patronizing little smile that would have been extremely offensive coming from anyone else. “They don’t have any rooms for you," he clarified. "Not only am I old, but I'm also rich."

Sure enough, he walked over to the desk and spoke to the clerk for less than a minute before he was handed a keycard.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan said with a laugh.

Rossi turned to us then, his eyes filled with poorly hidden mirth. “Sogni d’oro!” And with that, he walked towards the elevators.

“Huh?” JJ asked, her voice scratchy.

“Sweet dreams,” Reid and Prentiss supplied at the same time.

“Right.” Morgan shook his head. “Come on pretty Ricky.”

It hit me right then. Oh hell.

Hotch seemed to realize it at the same time Prentiss did. “Y/n, you room with JJ, I’ll stay with Hotch.”

Somehow this was more embarrassing than the conversation in the bullpen. “No,” I said quickly. “No, you guys go. I’ll room with Hotch.” I put a smile on my face, hoping I was convincing.

“Y/l/n, you just said that I intimidated you.”

Again, why couldn’t the earth just swallow me up? My laugh was forced, but hopefully, they hadn't heard my real laugh enough to know the difference. "Intimidated to go on a date with, Hotch. This isn't like that." Right? “C’mon! I’m sleepy.”

With that display of false bravado, I grabbed a key and made my way towards the elevators. I felt his presence behind me as we walked down the hall towards our rooms. I tried to control my heartbeat, calm my breathing the closer we got to the room. This is ridiculous, y/n. I had shared a room with Morgan before, no problem. I was comfortable around the team, I really was. Not for the first time, I wish I had the sense to not open my big mouth.

I reached for the door right when Hotch cleared his throat; I busied myself with getting into the room, ignoring him. Was it cowardly? Yes. Did I care? Not at that moment.

Until I walked into the room…and saw that there was one bed. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. “What is this, a rom-com?” I apparently didn’t mumble that part as quietly as I thought I had given the soft laugh I heard come from the man behind me.

“Y/n,” he said, his hand coming to my shoulder. “I didn’t realize there would only be one bed. Come on, let’s go down to Prentiss and JJ’s room.”

I let out a groan. “Hoooootch,” I whined. “All of this is just making me more embarrassed. This wouldn’t even be an issue if I hadn’t been a dumbass and opened my big mouth. This isn’t a big deal but going to talk to them will make it a big deal.”

He didn't look convinced, but I was so tired. I reached out and grabbed his arm before I could think better of it. "Aaron," my voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it was like he'd been struck by lightning. His eyes snapped up to mine, his lips parted slightly. It was then I realized I'd never called him by his first name before. "I trust you with my life. You'd intimidate me if I didn't know you. But I do know you, Aaron." My gaze never wavered from his.

“Okay.”

--

I laid in bed for 30 minutes pretending to be asleep. I listened to his breathing even out and I kept my back to him the entire time. I had tried to keep my bedtime routine brief, taking a quick shower and changing into my sleep shorts and a baggy shirt I’d had since college. My hair was pulled back so I wouldn’t get it wet in the shower.

The weirdest thing was seeing Hotch in normal clothes. In all the months I’d worked with him, I had never seen him not in a suit. He had a pair of flannel pajama pants on, a gray t-shirt stretched over his broad chest. He has really nice arms, I thought.

When I was sure he was asleep, I rolled over onto my back. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, allowing me to just stare at the ceiling.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

I let out a squeak while my whole body jerked. "Goddamnit, Hotch!” That asshole had the nerve to chuckle. “Stop scaring me!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding even slightly sorry.

“I thought you were asleep.”

He rolled onto his back; I felt his eyes on my face. “I know,” was all he said.

I sighed, wondering how I had gotten myself into such a situation. “You really don’t intimidate me.” He made a noise which caused me to amend my statement. “Alright, alright. You do intimidate me. You’re just so…stern. And you’re so tall. What is the purpose of being that tall? It’s excessive. And I feel like your eyes can see through every single thing about me. I didn’t know you had muscles until today, but I always assumed you did. They’re very nice muscles-“ I cut myself off. Fuck.

That was the first time I ever heard Aaron Hotchner laugh. Not chuckle, not snicker quietly. He actually laughed. His laugh was a higher pitch than his speaking voice; it boomed out of him and transformed the whole mood in the room. That laugh warmed a part of my heart that I wasn’t comfortable thinking about. A huge grin broke out on my face. I made him laugh, and I was oddly proud of it.

“Thanks, y/n,” his voice was still filled with amusement. “I hadn’t known you were curious about the state of my muscles. You should have just said something.”

My head snapped to the side so my eyes could meet his. He was teasing me. SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU unit Chief, was teasing me. I lifted my hand to his arm, giving him a shove. His bicep feels like granite. “Shut up.”

That asshat just kept laughing at me.

“Anyway, you do intimidate me,” my voice was soft again. “But I’m not afraid of you.”

Aaron regarded me thoughtfully. “So, it’s not that you’re not attracted to intimidating men,” he surmised. “You’re afraid of men.”

“Not all men,” I countered. “I’m afraid of men like you. Not you, but ones like you. You overwhelm me.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “Y/n…did someone hurt you?”

It was a natural question, a normal thought process; I should have expected the question. I felt tears prick the corner of my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered, feeling safe in the darkness of the room, safe but still so alone. “But not in the way you think.” I filled my lungs with a deep breath, hoping I would find some courage. It wasn’t until I felt his hand brush over mine, his calloused fingers brushing over the back of my hand, that I finally found it. I flipped my palm up and laced my fingers through his. He gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve had the same best friend all my life,” I began. “She’s marvelous. We’ve always been together; her mom said we were like peanut butter and jelly. I love her like she’s a part of me, Aaron.” I knew he would understand; I just knew it. “We were in college when it happened. We went to this frat party because I had a crush on some guy.” My voice was filled with venom and bitterness. “He was overwhelming, so tall, and so handsome. There was a darkness in him, but I was too young to see it. She did; my best friend could see he was a monster. I didn’t listen.” My breath was shuddering through me. “I didn’t listen to her, Hotch.”

He didn't say anything. He just shifted in the bed and pulled me to him, nestling me into his side, wrapping his arms around me while I laid my head on his chest. "I was so mad at her. So mad." The shame from all those years ago was still so fresh. "She took my drink and threw it on the floor. I told her she was embarrassing me… So, I went outside to get some air."

His arm tightened around me, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair. “You don’t have to-“

“I do,” I said, refusing to let another sob escape. “I came back inside and couldn’t find either of them. I thought maybe she was going to hook up with some guy…but she isn’t like that. She’s never been like that.” My stomach rolled at the thought; sometimes when I closed my eyes I could still smell the beer in the air, I could still feel the wood of the banister under my fingers. “I found them in a room upstairs. He had her pinned on the bed, he was-he-he was trying to take her pants off.” I didn’t deserve the comfort Aaron offered me in that moment, but I clung to him, grateful for it. “I screamed, and I guess I scared him. She kneed him and was able to push him off. We ran all the way home.”

“You saved her, y/n,” Aaron’s voice was so sure, so reassuring, no matter how hard I shook my head ‘no’. “You did. You could have just left; you were mad at her, but you still went back for her.”

I wiped my eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

His lips pressed softly against my forehead, his hand stroking up and down my back. “That’s because it is.”

--

Things felt different in the harsh light of the police station than they had last night. Aaron was already in the shower when I woke up this morning. I fell asleep in his arms after I told him one of my darkest secrets. He didn't judge me; he didn't tell me I was a terrible person. He just held me; he offered me comfort and made me feel deserving of that comfort.

I dressed quickly and headed downstairs before he got out of the bathroom. My feelings were already swirling around in my head. It wasn’t that I wanted to be away from him, not at all. I just didn’t think it would help my feelings settle down to be confronted by a wet, hot, well-muscled Aaron Hotchner. It was an act of self-preservation if you think about it, I reasoned.

The next time I saw him was when the team was piling back into the SUVs to head to the police station. He offered me a small smile, and I think his eyes may have twinkled a little bit when I smiled back at him a little too brightly.

Profilers.

The team was as refreshed as they could be. Dr. Reid was looking at access and service roads on the map, trying to determine the route the unsub took to dispose of his victims. JJ and Morgan were out canvassing the women's neighborhoods. Rossi was with Prentiss in the sheriff's office speaking with the family of the most recent victim, Bethany Mooreland.

This was the hardest part of my job. I wasn’t a profiler. I felt like I had nothing to offer. I was fielding calls from the media, trying to organize a targeted strategy. The team thought that if the unsub saw that he was being mocked in the press, or his masculinity was called into question in any way, that he would act out more viciously. While acting out might cause him to make a mistake, we couldn’t risk another woman’s life.

The conference room doors burst open, Hotch storming inside with Morgan and JJ hot on his heels. “There’s been another attack.”

I felt my stomach drop. “Fuck.”

“Y/n, she’s alive.”

“…What?!”

The dark-haired man that held me in his arms last night only nodded. “She’s at the hospital. I want you to come with JJ and me to interview her.”

…Me?

--

Summer Webb was 25 years old; she was a customer service rep at a call center just outside of town. She lived alone, had a cat named Pringles, and was close with her family.

I held her hand while JJ and Hotch put her through a cognitive interview. I rubbed her back while she recounted how the unsub only left her because he thought she was dead. Tears ran down my cheeks when she described what he did to her.

Steel and ice ran through my veins when I looked her in the eyes and promised that we would get this monster.

I’d kill him myself if I had to.

Once her mother arrived at the hospital, we left, promising to call with any updates; uniformed officers were stationed outside her hospital door. Hotch spoke to Garcia, then to Rossi, then to Reid, then Garcia again on our ride back. JJ read over Summer’s statement, occasionally jotting down notes.

I was quiet.

Almost. Almost there. I walked into the station without really seeing it. I navigated my way down the hall on instinct. I pushed the door to the bathroom open, looked around to confirm I was alone…then I broke. I placed my hands on the countertop that housed 3 separate sinks, my tears ran down my cheeks and splashed on the fake granite.

I don’t know how long I had been there when I thought I heard a knock on the door. That didn’t make any sense, the door didn’t have a lock; there were multiple stalls in this bathroom.

But I had heard a knock. The door swung open and someone walked inside. I heard him whisper my name, the tone of his voice was so soft, so fucking sad, that it only made me cry harder. Aaron put his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face him, then letting me collapse against him.

He murmured words I couldn’t understand against the top of my head, he wrapped his arms tight around me; I was sure I would have fallen completely apart if he wasn’t holding me together.

“You must think I’m so weak,” I muttered when my tears had finally slowed.

He stiffened, though his hands never stopped moving, stroking my hair and my back. "Just the opposite, y/n." I pulled back to meet his eyes; I saw nothing but honesty swirling in those dark brown pools. His eyes appeared so dark from far away, almost black. From this close, I could see the subtle shift between various shades of brown. They weren't cold like I had always suspected; Aaron Hotchner's eyes were warm and understanding. They were the eyes of a man who had seen far too much evil for one lifetime but refused to yield his fight for even a second.

I could fall in love with those eyes.

“You’re the furthest thing from weak I’ve ever seen,” he continued. “Your heart is so big that it aches for a woman you don’t even know. It’s alright to cry right now, it’s alright to let yourself fall down for a moment. But I know you, y/n,” he was repeating my words from last night back to me. “You’re going to pull yourself back together. And then you’re going to help us find that son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else.”

Maybe I could fall in love with more than just his eyes.

--

There are certain moments in my life that I will look back on and remember with perfect clarity. That night when I almost lost my best friend, the day I graduated from the academy, the first night I spent in Aaron Hotchner’s arms were just a few.

I would also remember when the call came in from Garcia; how Morgan and Reid ran into the room. How Hotch’s eyes shot to mine when we found out the monster’s name. I didn’t have to ask; he nodded at me, those warm brown eyes were hidden now, hardened by pure ice-cold rage.

I strapped on my vest and road in the back seat in the SUV Morgan drove.

Summer’s monster was named Jeremy Carpenter. Her monster was a white man with brown hair, brown eyes, with a scar on the back of his right hand.

None of us were sure how he knew we were coming, but he had already barricaded himself inside his house. We heard a scream when the first gunshot was fired. I wanted more than anything to bring Summer's monster in alive; I wanted to offer her the chance to face him if she wanted to.

Aaron didn’t ask if I wanted to go to the hospital once everything was over; he really did know me. He took me to see her, he kept his hand on my back while I told Summer and her mother what happened. What I will remember most of all is how her mother hugged me when I told her the monster was gone, that he would never harm anyone ever again. I hit him in his leg; he was in pain before our unit chief put a bullet between his eyes.

We had come to the hospital alone; the rest of the team went back to the station to finish up paperwork. I held his hand on the way back to the hotel; I held his hand while we walked to our room.

I offered him a small smile before I made my way into the bathroom, determined to wash the events of the day off of my skin.

He was gone when I came back out.

--

It goes without saying that I had doubted most men in my life, especially since that night all those years ago.

I never once doubted Aaron Hotchner.

I was sitting on the bed when he came back, staring at the TV without seeing.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I thought you’d still be in the shower.” He set two bags down on the only table in our room. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast. I thought-“

“Hotch,” he looked at me then, his eyes locking onto mine. “Thank you.” I didn’t need to specify for what. He knows.

He pulled our food out while I made my way to the table. I couldn’t hold in my chuckle. “You know I get motion sickness; you know my favorite foods…just how closely do you pay attention to me, Agent Hotchner?”

He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “More closely than I should.”

We sat together and ate in comfortable silence. The next time he spoke was to answer a phone call from Jack. I tried to hide my smile while I listened to his conversation. Unlike the rest of his team, I hadn’t gotten to see Aaron Hotchner, the father. What is it about men being good father’s that is so attractive, I mused. Is it biological? I made a note to ask Dr. Reid.

After we ate, he went to shower while I stretched out on our bed, scrolling through my phone. When Hotch emerged from the bathroom he was in another pair of flannel pants paired with a black t-shirt. I pursed my lips in both amusement and disappointment.

“What?” His eyebrow was raised quizzically. Why are his eyebrows hot?

I giggled. "Nothing." At his incredulous look, I amended, "it's nothing interesting."

He sat down beside me on the right side of the bed, his back resting against the headboard. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Hooootch,” I whined, covering my face with my hands. “I’ve already embarrassed myself in front of you enough for one lifetime.”

His hand came up to grab mine, pulling them down from my face. Any attempts I made to wiggle away from him were in vain. Apparently, those muscles aren’t all show and no go. My body had shifted down the bed during my halfhearted struggles, meaning Aaron was now propped up on his elbow, his body angled over mine. “Embarrassed? I don’t remember any embarrassing times,” he pretended to give this some thought. “Unless you’re referring to last night when you mentioned how much you think about my muscles?”

I tried to jerk my arms out of his hands, but he held fast, laughing openly while my face turned red. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not talking about that?” He pushed my arms back onto the bed, rising to his knees, positioning his body over me, his face hovering over mine. “Then it must have been when you lied to the whole team a few days ago.”

I squeaked in outrage. “I didn’t lie about anything!”

He was so beautiful when that scowl left his face. “Yes, you did!” he insisted. “You said you wouldn’t say ‘yes’ if I asked you out. And, based on the evidence, I have to say I don’t believe that to be true.”

“Oh, I forgot I was dealing with a former prosecutor.” He nodded gravely, earning another giggle from me. “Okay, counselor. What’s the evidence?”

“The most glaring piece of evidence is you won’t tell me what you were thinking when you were looking at me when I came out of the shower.”

I let out a whine, accepting my fate. He’s literally on top of you, dumbass. Something tells me he’s gonna be receptive. “Okay, okay. I may have…hurried out of the room this morning while you were in the shower.”

Hotch quirked an eyebrow. “I know. Go on.”

“Asshole,” I muttered, delighted when he laughed. Hearing his laugh was one thing, but seeing it too? My insides were basically liquid. “I may have ran as an act of self-preservation. I was…worried that you’d come out of the bathroom in a towel. And you’d be wet, and hot, and I would…make an idiot out of myself, much like I am now.”

Aaron was delighted by how bright red my face turned; he made no attempt to hide his amusement. “So, just now, you were disappointed that I came out fully clothed?”

“Hotch,” I moaned out in embarrassment. He wasn’t making this easy on me.

My eyes were shut tight, my head turned away from him like this would somehow prevent him from seeing me. His left hand lifted from my wrist, his fingers coming to rest on my chin, turning my face towards him. "If you're going to moan my name while we're in bed, y/n, I'd prefer if you called me Aaron." My eyes snapped open. His eyes were still warm, teasing, but there was a certain heat in them I hadn’t seen before that made my lower belly flutter. He leaned closer to my face. “It would be hard for me to focus at work if you every time you said ‘Hotch’ I thought about you like this.”

I waited for a few moments for him to act before I realized Aaron couldn’t cross the line first. He wouldn’t be mean if I rejected him; that wasn’t the type of man he was. But the choice was mine; it had always been mine.

I lifted my free hand up to cup the side of his face, urging him closer to me. The first brush of my lips over his was so soft I wasn't sure it was even happening. It was so hesitant but so pure that it made me ache. Aaron pulled back to look at me; he was breathing hard like he had been running instead of just kissing me.

“Y/n…”

“Don’t profile me, Aaron.” I lifted my head, my teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “I want this. I want you.”

His posture shifted, he released my left arm to brace himself above me with his arms caging me in; he moved his legs, wedging one of his thighs in between mine. “I’m not profiling you. I can see how much you want this.” No need to sound so arrogant. “But I need to be sure…I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

My hands moved up to touch him, one hand feeling the soft hair at the nape of his neck that was still a little damp from the shower; my other hand gripped his bicep. “Then touch me, Aaron. Please.”

I wasn’t ready for the full force of Aaron Hotchner. He was the most intense man I had ever known, and that intensity didn’t stop in the bedroom. Aaron didn’t kiss me, he tried to consume me. His mouth moved over mine with a carnal hunger that made me throb, shifting against his firm thigh that was rested against me. I was desperate for any friction. I felt his hand move down from where it was cupping my face to rest on my collarbone, his thumb tracing over the base of my throat.

His lips moved off of mine to blaze a path down my jaw, his teeth nipping at the skin there before he moved back to my lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He pushed his thigh against the seam of my body, causing a whimper to escape from my throat. I didn’t even mind the smirk that covered his mouth. “We’ll get there. Just let me make you feel good.”

I opened my mouth to him; his tongue swirled around mine while the hand that wasn’t bracing him up moved to my hip. His fingers ran over the skin of my stomach that was exposed from my shirt riding up. I placed my hand over his, guiding it further up my stomach; how was I supposed to take my mouth away from his to tell him what I wanted?

Of course, Aaron knew what I needed; I was beginning to learn that he always did. His fingers trailed up my body until he got to the underside of my breast; the callouses that roughened his fingertips were heaven on my overly sensitive skin. My mouth broke away from his in a guttural cry when those fingers finally found my nipple. Aaron moved his kisses down to the side of my throat. I felt his breath against my throat when he murmured, “you’re so sexy, y/n.”

Raising up on his knees, he started tugging my shirt up; I lifted my upper body so I could slide my shirt off quickly. I heard Aaron groan when my chest was revealed to him, but I was on a mission of my own. Once I had his shirt pulled up over his abdomen, Aaron reached behind his back and pulled his shirt off at the neck.

My nails raked down the skin that covered his chest, reveling in the groan that left his mouth. He leaned over me again, his lips wasting no time before they covered my nipple. My hands tried to grip the short hair at the back of his head.

“Aaron,” I gasped out. “I need…more. Please.”

He started kissing his way to my other breast. “What do you need, sweetheart? Do you want to grind against my thigh? Do you need to use me to get off?” His tongue flicked over my nipple. “Or do you want me to use my hand? Is that what you need, Angel?” My heart stuttered at the sweet nickname just as much as it did at his filthy words. “Do you need me to put my fingers in your pussy?”

My thighs were shifting restlessly. “Yes, yes, please Aaron.”

When his mouth closed around my nipple, I felt his left-hand slide down into my shorts, then into my panties. He shifted his wrist, allowing his hand to cup me. He groaned against my skin. "I haven't even put a finger inside of you and I can already feel how wet you are. Your little cunt is just dripping for me.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond before he parted my lips, his finger ghosting over my clit, causing my back to arch off the bed. He smirked but didn’t tease me further; he slid his fingers down to my opening before pushing his middle and ring finger inside of me, using the heel of his hand to grind against my clit. I moved my hand to my mouth, having to bite on my skin to silence the scream that his actions brought forward.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He leaned back, never pausing the movement of his fingers. “Are you trying to be quiet? Do you not want everyone in this hotel to know how wet you are? How desperate you are to have my fingers inside of you?” All I could do was nod. “It’s all right, baby. Once we get home, I’ll hear you scream for me. But for now; be a good girl and try to be quiet. I’m the only one that gets to hear what you sound like when you cum for me.”

I was grinding against him, working my hips desperately, matching his rhythm. I was so close. “Aaron, NO!” was all I could say when he removed his fingers from inside me. The man just smiled at me, looking me straight in my eyes when he put his fingers in his mouth, licking me off of them.

He grabbed my shorts and panties at my hips, roughly jerking them off my body. “When we get home,” he said as he slowly started to push his own pajama pants down. “The first thing I’m going to do is lay on my back and make you put this pussy on my mouth. You taste so good, angel.” His cock sprang free; he was so much thicker than I expected. I was transfixed, just watching his fist pump up and down his hard length. “Will you do that for me? Will you ride my face?”

“Yes,” I was so desperate I would agree to anything in that moment. “I’ll do anything. Just please fuck me, Aaron.”

He used the fingers of his free hand to part my pussy lips again, rubbing over my clit. “I don’t have a condom, sweetheart, but-“

“I’m on the pill,” I reach out to grip his shoulders, pulling him on top of me. “I trust you. I trust you with everything. I need you inside me, Aaron.”

He shoved my thighs open, running the head of his cock up and down my pussy, coating himself in my arousal. He looked up at me again, giving me another moment to back out, before he slowly started to push inside of me. He stroked in and out of me, going a little bit deeper each time until he bottomed out. Aaron’s head fell to the dip of my shoulder. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking tight.” He started moving then. Slowly pulling out before he shoved himself back inside me. My hands were on his back, my nails digging into his skin. I wrapped my legs around his back, trying to draw him deeper inside me.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, biting his shoulder to keep my moans quiet.

Aaron raised up on straight arms, changing the tempo of his thrusts. “You’re not doing a very good job of being quiet, baby.” I whimpered; I couldn’t help it. “I think we might have to do something about that. He quickly pulled out of me; I didn’t have time to complain before he flipped me over, gripping my hips and lifting me up on to my knees. His hand palmed my ass cheek while he leaned over me, his breath hot on my ear. “This is how you need to be fucked.”

Raising up, he lined himself up and slammed inside of me. I bit my lip so hard that I could taste blood; Aaron tangled his hands in the back of my hair, pulling my head up while he set a brutal pace. "Quiet, baby. You don't want everyone to know what a dirty girl you are. Screaming for my cock, so wet that you're dripping down your thighs." His pace didn't slow down; I felt my orgasm rising up inside me. "Touch your clit for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you cum on my cock."

My fingers began circling my clit in a frenzy, causing my pussy to flutter around him. “That’s a good girl. Such a good girl for me. Can you be quiet when you cum? Or do I need to shove your face down in the mattress while I fuck you?” He gave a dark chuckle at my needy whine. “That’s what I thought.”

In the way that he knew everything, Aaron knew when my orgasm was peaking. He pushed my head down, never too hard, but hard enough. I bit the comforter in an attempt to silence my scream. I felt myself clamp down around his thick cock. My orgasm broke inside me so quickly. I screamed his name while I came; the comforter silenced some of it, but he heard it. That scream along with my pussy cumming on him was ultimately his undoing. He gave a few final thrusts before he went all the way, holding himself inside me as deep as he could, filling me with his cum.

I collapsed after that. I had never felt anything like this before. Aaron was there, knowing what I needed even when I didn’t. He held me for a moment until I caught my breath. Then he went into the bathroom, coming back with a damp washcloth to clean me up. He was so tender with my sensitive flesh; he didn’t say anything, he just focused on his task.

Once he was satisfied, he laid down beside me, drawing me into his side just as he’d done the night before. I couldn’t help the dry chuckle that left my exhausted body. Aaron made a ‘hmm’ noise. “I was just thinking about last night,” I said quietly, my voice raw from the screaming I had just done. “You held me like this last night. It was just 24 hours ago, but the whole world feels different.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat that I took as an agreement. After a beat, he said, "well, maybe you won't run out on me in the morning this time."

I looked into his eyes, raising up to press a kiss against his stubbly jaw. “I’ll never run again.”

And I meant it. I could face any monster, as long as Aaron Hotchner was beside me.

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter One

Summary: You live in Bogotá in the ‘90s, and work odd hours. No, you’re not a DEA agent, but a nurse. These odd hours prompt odd habits, like working out at 2:03 A.M. after a shift. Odd hours attract odd people, and you have a chance encounter with one DEA agent by the name of Javier Peña. Warnings: language, blood and violence (both graphic), descriptions of death and gun violence Chapter 1 W/C: 2.3K A/N: you guys! I am so in love with this fic. I already have quite a bit more written and can’t wait for you to read it! I hope you love it as much as I do! Javi deserves some softness... but not too much. this can’t all be fluff when you’re Javier Peña. Okay, this is not super canon-fitting of Narcos, I’m just gonna be honest with y’all. This is between the time of Escobar’s escape from La Catedral and his final capture and death, but also… Connie’s still in Colombia. Additionally, I don’t really have a year in mind, it’s just somewhere in that period. Please note that this is not a very lighthearted story- it begins with a death, though not of a significant character. Javier and reader both have some trauma, so please check the warnings of each chapter before you start reading. If you’re continuing on, I hope you like it! For the most part, if I use italics here when someone is speaking, it’s indicating that it’s in Spanish. I’m okay at the language, but I don’t want to butcher anything, so… just imagine it. Otherwise, it’s just the way anyone would use italics I guess.

next chapter

Chapter One

You watched a woman you didn’t know die in your arms tonight.

 She was beautiful, all dressed up to go out and party, her makeup running down her face with tears. Her lips were the painted the color of the blood that trickled from the side of them, eyes glazing over as she coughed and coughed and ruined the beautiful dress she wore. The nurses had asked what happened, and she had told them, through gurgles of blood: she had slept with one of Escobar’s men. She got too close, learned too much, and they tracked her down. 

She flatlined not long after telling the nurses around you. You had stood in the corner, paralyzed at first. You were an experienced ER nurse, nothing was new. You had seen patients die, but something about her was different. Maybe it was the way she reached out to you right before her body went limp. You didn’t make it to her bedside in time to calm her, the panic holding you down, but you finally took her hand right as she took her last breath. 

After she passed, you threw up in the bathroom, shaking and clutching the toilet. The night air had grown unbearably hot and humid, causing your scrubs to cling to your skin, and the sweat from the heaving of your stomach didn’t make things easier on you. Lorena, a fellow nurse and your best friend at work, had found you and comforted you, rubbing your back and bringing you water. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t reverse what had happened. 

Now, you sit on a bench in the staff’s locker room, redoing the ponytail holding your hair from your damp face. Your shift ended a few minutes ago, but you don’t know what to do now. You don’t feel like drinking; that would only make the visions swimming in your head worse. You know you can’t go home, can’t attempt to find sleep tonight. You look up and spot a bag with tennis shoes and spare clothing and settle your mind on at least one thing: the gym could do you some good. You change into the clothes and put the blood-spattered scrubs in the laundry pile. 

As you leave, you give Lorena a little wave goodbye and exit the building. You’re hyper-aware of your surroundings tonight, and you groan as you look at your watch and notice that it’s precisely 2:09 A.M. here in Bogotá. The walk to your fitness club is short, but your step is slightly extra hurried and your hand is on your pepper spray the entire time, extra vigilant to the fact that a hit went down somewhere around here just a few hours earlier. Surprisingly enough, no one catcalls or bugs you tonight. 

The little gym is run-down and dilapidated, and there’s no working air conditioning, but it’s the only one near you. You paid the small monthly membership fee to gain access, and you were going to use it to get in shape, you’d decided. As you swipe in and enter, the tiny fitness center looks more depressing in the fluorescent lights, no daylight to sugarcoat the atrocities of the center. There are two of every machine, a punching bag and a speed bag, two weightlifting racks, and a couple of benches. 

It’s nice that you get to work out alone tonight, you tell yourself. Even better is the fact that you now get to control the music. Desperate for a taste of home, you flip the large boombox in the corner on and begin scanning the airwaves with the dial. There’s a station in town that plays American music, and you need it more than anything tonight. You listen carefully and nearly start sobbing again as you hear Billy Joel’s voice through the speakers. With a sigh of relief, you lock your bag in the rusty lockers in the corner and head to the treadmill. It’s a beat up old thing, but this is the one you always use. It provides a little bit of comfort tonight, the familiarity of it. You turn it on low and start walking. A few moments later, you up it to a jog, mouthing along to the words of the familiar song. 

As the song ends, you push the buttons enough to enter a running speed. Your feet slam into the treadmill harder than normal tonight, feeling as overwhelmed as when you left the hospital. Your body finally works up a sweat, the physical stress overwhelming the mental stress. 

As the events of tonight replay in your head to some other song from the late 80’s, your eyes start to water. Everything was so overwhelming, and your mind is just starting to process it. You finally allow the tears to fall, mixing with the sweat coating your cheeks. It’s hard to tell which is causing more of the mess, but you let yourself cry it out as you run for the next few minutes. 

The next song that comes on is Venus by Bananarama. You almost chuckle at the fact that it’s a few years old by now, but the song is comforting. It reminds you of home, of a time before you had issues like these. You slow down the treadmill a little, singing to the words aloud once you catch your breath enough. Daring to do a little spin on the rolling surface, you groove along to the music, chuckling a little

After the first chorus, you hear a creaking noise and whip around to find a man standing in the doorway. “Jesus fucking Christ!” You shout before you can stop yourself, hopping off the treadmill and onto the non-moving one before you get flung off. Your heart is pounding from the running, only intensifying the adrenaline rush from the scare. 

The man chuckles a little, but the smile on his face doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s tired- of course he is, it’s now 2:30 in the morning. “Lo siento,” you offer in Spanish, cringing at yourself and your reaction just now. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here this late,” you stutter, still panting from the running. He shakes his head lightly. “You’re American,” he says simply. In English, in a beautifully American accented voice.

Your sweaty brow furrows, a glimmer of hope sparking inside your chest as you notice that he speaks like an American himself. “So are you.”

He nods at that. “That I am,” he says as he puts his things in a locker, snapping it shut behind him. He looks at you for a moment. You’re not working at the Embassy, or he’d know you. It was rare to find an American down here that wasn’t working for the government somehow. He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, looking at how tired he appears in the big mirrored wall. He’s curious, but he’s exhausted. 

You look at him for a moment. “You going to explain anything, like, tell me about yourself? Or do I have to go first?” You ask, hands on your waist as you hop back on the slowly moving treadmill, back into moving. He doesn’t respond. “Fine. I know you’re government. I’m not an idiot.”

He chuckles and tugs on his t-shirt, moving to the treadmill next to you and getting on. It’s been ages since you’ve held a conversation in English, and you missed this, missed how easily your first language flows from your mouth. “And you’re not.”

“Correct,” you nod, turning up the speed a little on the machine until you’re at a light jog. “My bigger concern was going to be why you’re here at 2-fucking-30, but I’m guessing I know the answer. You get called in around here for the hit?” He nods, starting the treadmill up and walking on it. 

“You don’t have to be so guarded, Jesus. I fucking hate Escobar, I’m on your side,” you scoff before turning up the machine until you’re running once more.

Javier shrugs. “Makes sense. How did you know-”

“She died,” you say quickly and firmly, keeping your eyes straight ahead and looking at the room around you. “Add that to your file.”

He nods, understanding a little more now. You knew her somehow. He doesn’t say a word either, cranking up the machine and heading into a jog too.

A few more minutes pass of the two of you silently running next to each other, the American music still playing throughout the gym. It’s a comfort to Javier too. Tonight was shit for the DEA- they had known Escobar’s men would be around here. They had the intel, they had everything ready, but the men somehow had escaped and left a victim in their wake. 

The frustration of everything, of the man being something close to home for you yet being a brick wall, threatens your eyes with welling tears again. “I just wanted to talk with an American,” you sigh and cross your arms, moving back into the walking stage of a treadmill. 

The man next to you gives a similar sigh, stopping his treadmill completely and offering you a hand. “Javier Peña.” You take it reluctantly, feeling the sweat of both of your hands mix, and tell him your name before retracting it and stopping the treadmill too. “So, what brings you to the gym at 2:30?” He asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the center part of the treadmill. 

“I’m a nurse. I work the graveyard shift. Bad night, a patient died because she got fucking shot for having a boyfriend and not knowing he was a narco, I need to get something out, I come here,” you shrug, unconsciously mimicking him by folding your arms as well. 

He nods at that. “I’m here for the same. Shitty stakeout, I’m pissed off, I come here.” He leaves out the part about his favorite call girl being taken, and how he needed another way to get the rage inside of him out. He walks off of the treadmill and to the weight rack, pulling a bench beneath the bar.

You turn again and turn the machine back on, slowly jogging. “I see. Odd hours to be here, that’s why I asked,” you say simply. “And to see another American at such a time. I haven’t interacted with one since I came here.”

Javier nods, adjusting the weights on the bar. “Yeah. Weird,” he nods. “And that you’re an American who isn’t working for the government and you’re down here. What, you got a husband who works for us?”

You shake your head, swallowing hard for a moment. “No, don’t have a husband in the first place,” you admit, adjusting the ponytail holding your hair up. “It’s a long story.”

“We got time,” he shrugs as he gets on the bench beneath the rack, looking at you in the mirrored wall. Even with the sweat and the stress of working out, he notices that you’re gorgeous. You have a nice body, and even your face is pretty while you’re working out.

You shake your head. “Fine, if you really want to hear it.”

“Might as well. It’s that or more of this fucking Wham! music, and I’m sick of George Michael.”

“First of all, first person here gets the music, so mind your manners.” This finally earns a chuckle from the man, and you want to smile but it just can’t come. “I came down here with a man. He’s a citizen here. We were going to get married, but he left me. That was a couple of months ago now,” you admit, the tears beading in the corner of your eye again. “My work visa was still valid, and I renewed it so I can keep working at the hospital. I don’t really have anyone down here except the girls I work with, but I like helping out. They need me.” He nods a little as he listens, breaking his focus as he starts his reps with the bar.

“And you’re government, so that explains everything I need to know about you,” you continue to babble. “One of the girls I work with has a husband who’s at the Embassy. Murphy,” you say offhandedly. 

Javier’s attention is caught, and he sets the bar on the rack. “Murphy?” He asks, and you turn your head to look at him and give him a nod. “No shit. That’s my partner.”

You chuckle slightly and look back at him, stopping the treadmill. “So you know Connie?”

Javi nods. “Yeah, great gal. She could do better than Steve,” he says, sitting up.

You laugh softly at that. “From what I’ve heard of him, I agree. She’s a really great girl, you’re right,” you nod in agreement, looking back at him. “She’s never mentioned you. She says her husband’s in janitorial, but we all know that’s not true. What, you guys CIA? DEA?”

Javier nods again. “DEA.”

“I see,” you say, folding your arms and leaning against the machine. “Can’t make you many friends around here. I learned pretty quickly to keep my mouth shut about being a gringa. They can usually tell though.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles and cracks his back.

You bite your lip as you look at him, your voice watery when you can finally speak again, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion again. “It’s nice to talk to someone in English again,” you admit with a forced smile. 

He can read your eyes easily. You’re a nurse, and you told him that the victim died. You saw it. “It is,” he nods, reading your pain and trying to show you he empathizes with it. Your eyes are beautiful, he notices as he looks into them. So much more hope and trust than anyone else he works with, but the pain in them is unbearable. He looks away, leaning back on the bench to lift again.

“So where you from in the States?” You finally ask when the silence is too long. 

“Laredo, Texas,” he chuckles. “Yourself?”

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake: The Final

We made it! I want to thank you guys so so much for the fantastic support you've given this story, it means the world to me. Bake Off has a special place in my heart and so does this fic, so its been so great to share it with you all!

(Links to all previous chapters can be found pinned on my page under 'Let Them Eat Cake' or pop over to my AO3 - link in bio)

Without further ado, I give you... The Final!

This week on the final of The Great British Bake Off…

“It looks like you’re having a smashing time.”

“Tell us about your first kiss.”

“And the winner is…”

Remus Lupin was having a nice morning.

There had been nothing of interest to note, however he didn’t have an alarm blaring and he was warm and snuggly, so all in all, he took it as a win.

Until one Lily Evans took it upon herself to sneak into his room and throw herself on him like she was a kid on Christmas morning.

“Finals, finals, finals!” She exclaimed, managing to find a tone that was somehow both singing and chanting all at once.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Remus groaned, covering his eyes with his forearms. “Can I go back in time and just never apply to this fucking competition?”

Lily rolled off him, her big green eyes staring at him concerned. “What's the matter? Do you not want to be here?”

Remus peeked out at her. “No, I don’t want you to be here.” He smirked as she rolled her eyes, flopping back on the pillows next to him.

“Asshat.” She grumbled, hitting his shoulder with a light ‘thwack’. “I was worried for a sec.”

Remus grinned at her and then stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, only the sounds of their breathing and his heartbeat in his ears to keep him company.

Finals, they had made it to the finals.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. “Welcome to the finals.” McGonagall had said to him just before he left the tent, the words playing over and over again in his head, as clear as if she had said them yesterday.

(Which in fact, she had. This was the first time Remus would go to the practice tent and Tonks wouldn’t be there, but there was still an undeniable elation blossoming in his chest).

Five days until filming resumed. Six until the winner was announced. It didn’t seem real.

(But if this were a fantasy, Remus never wanted to return to reality).

“So where’s Sirius on this fine morning?” Lily asked, breaking the silence. Remus turned his head to look at her, completely relaxed and sinking into the bed. It would seem his lazy morning mood had seeped into her instead of her vibrant energy going to him.

“We’re not together every night.” He said, looking at the freckles splashed across her nose. They were darker now than they had been when they arrived. “We’re taking things slow.”

Lily just stared at him sceptically.

“It’s true!” He defenced. “We are!”

“You’re such a bad liar.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Remus groaned and smacked her with a pillow. Victory.

“You never answered the question.” Lily said, muffled under the cushion. Or maybe victory had another champion in mind.

“Okay yes, he’s here most nights, but it doesn’t feel fast.” He defended, and it was true. Somehow it felt almost like they had known each other forever and yet still there was the thrill and excitement that came with everything being so new.

“It doesn’t seem fast either.” Lily reassured. “Maybe for others it would be, but I think it’s right for you two.”

Remus let out a little breath of relief. He hadn’t been worried exactly, but his thoughts had slipped in that direction a few times. More than anything, he just worried about scaring Sirius off, while still feeling secure in himself? Remus really didn’t know, the emotion centre of his body was really sending out mixed signals these days.

He had just decided to say fuck it to logic and stick to how he felt. And he felt good. Really good.

“Not that this little revelation wasn’t nice,” Lily said, “But you still haven’t answered the question I asked. Little tip? If this baking thing doesn’t work out, definitely don’t become a spy. If you were captured you’d accidentally reveal all the information without them even having to ask you.”

Remus groaned. “I hate you. He and James were hanging out last night.”

Lily grinned, satisfied and gave Remus another little shove. “Okay, come on I wanna go bake.”

“You’d think you’d have enough baking for a lifetime.” Remus grumbled but he got up all the same. In actuality, now that he was awake, Remus too was buzzing to get into the tent and get to work. “What’re you planning for this week?” He asked as he threw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie, having taken a shower the night before.

“I can’t give away my secrets!” Lily teased, holding open the door as Remus grabbed his key and they both swept out of the room and down the plush carpeted corridor.

“You are aware I’m gonna find out either way right? Cause if you still haven’t grasped that concept then I’m a little worried to be-”

“Oh hush,” Lily laughed, pressing her palm to Remus’ mouth. “I’m still not a hundred percent sure to be honest.”

They stepped outside, the cool crisp air falling over them, revitalizing them. Remus tucked his hands into his pockets and felt his shoulders hunch a little. His lungs liked the cold, the rest of his body - not so much.

“I’m not sure if I know what I’m doing either.” He admitted. “I have a few ideas, but none of them feel quite right, you know?”

Lily nodded as they reached the practice tent, pulling open the door. “Yeah I think that’s my issue too. There’s suddenly so much pressure and nothing I consider seems to be good enough.”

Remus sighed as he pulled two aprons off the hooks and tossed one to Lily. “I suppose we’ll have to figure it out.” He said, before taking out the recipe cards he had brought with him and began flicking through them for inspiration.

Five days. He could do this.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here.” Remus said with a grin as he trod through the grass, rounding the big oak tree to see Sirius waiting on their swing.

“I know,” Sirius drawled. “It’s almost like we planned it.”

Remus smiled, sitting by his side, holding the rope in one hand as he held out a Tupperware encased offering. “Want some cake?”

Sirius took the box gladly, his hair tied up but the wind had claimed a few loose strands, whipping them around his face like a dark halo. “Always. What kind?”

Remus tucked one foot into his chest, resting his cheek on his knee as he studied the other man. “Try it and find out.”

Sirius' lips quirked at Remus’ teasing tone, looking at the deep brown colour that really could only be one flavour. “Elderflower?” He joked.

Remus laughed and took a bite himself before holding out to Sirius. “Yes,” He said, completely deadpan. “That’s exactly what it is.”

Sirius smiled and kissed him, biting his lip as he pulled away. “You taste like chocolate.”

Remus flushed. “Don’t you mean elderflower?”

Sirius chuckled, rocking the swing a little more, tilting his head back to look at the twisting branches above them. “Look,” He murmured, pointing to a clump of twigs high in the tree. “A bird's nest.” Remus followed his line of sight and watched as a bird swooped overhead and landed in it gracefully.

“That was kinda cool.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t shit on us.”

“Sirius!” Remus exclaimed, elbowing the other man as he laughed. “Let’s hope your hair can take the hit and shield us.”

“Oi! My hair is what should be protected at all costs, it’s a national treasure. You know, I think I should replace you with Tonks, she knows the importance of hair care.”

Remus smiled, resting his head on Sirius’ shoulder, the fabric of his jacket soft against his cheek. “Tell me something I don't know about you.”

The wind whipped through the branches, but Remus wasn’t cold pressed up against Sirius. The tree sheltered them from the worst of it and the weather was slowly getting a little warmer, daffodils springing up all around the tent. There were many things Remus had always wanted but never saw himself actually achieving. Coming to bake off was one. Making it to the final was another. And perhaps the most notable - finding someone who might love him as much as he loved them. And yet, here he was with all three.

“When I was a kid, I used to want to be a dog so bad, I was always getting in trouble for wearing holes in my pants because I would crawl instead of walking normally. I even refused to answer to ‘Sirius’.”

“Oh yeah?” Remus asked, amused. “What was your alter ego’s name then?”

He could hear Sirius’ smile even if he couldn’t see it. “Padfoot. He was this big black dog. I got the idea after I read about ‘The Grimm’ in one of my cousin’s books and I guess it kind of stuck.”

“Padfoot,” Remus repeated, unable to stop himself. “I like that.”

“Your turn,” Sirius urged, nudging Remus lightly. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Remus’ heart fluttered, stomach rolling a little, he had news for Sirius, and had honestly engineered the entire conversation just to tell him, but now that the moment was here, he was getting nervous.

“I’ve been offered a job in London.”

Sirius froze under Remus’ cheek. “In London?”

“Yeah.”

“London, England?”

Remus chuckled as he sat up to look at Sirius’ stunned face, grey eyes wide, lips parted. “Yes, London, England.”

Sirius blinked. “But I live in London.”

Remus pursed his lips, trying not to smile too much. “I’m aware of this, yes.”

“You… we… we’d be living in the same country. In the same city.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Remus motherfucking Lupin, that's the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Your flour is about to tip over.” Tonks commented, carelessly filing her nails over facetime as Remus ran around his station, trying to do several things at once.

“Oh my god Lupin, you’re a disaster, how did you even get into this competition?” Tonks teased as Remus caught the flour but promptly dropped it on the flour, a white cloud erupting, coating everything in a two meter radius in powder.

“Not very helpful.” Remus grumbled as he shook flour out of his hair and grabbed a cloth to wipe down the counter.

“I wasn’t trying to be helpful.” Tonks paused and looked at the recipe Remus had sent her. “You’re gonna need at least double the vanilla extract than what you have there.” Remus grabbed the recipe and looked it over, seeing she was right. “See?” Tonks said gleefully as Remus scratched out the original amount. “That was me being helpful.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but blew her a kiss, wiping the dusty screen of his phone which had not escaped the great flour disaster.

“Come on,” He said as he walked with his phone to the store room, as if Tonks had any other choice than to accompany him. “We’re gonna get some more flour.” He set his phone down on a shelf as he looked for the right flour, Tonks chatting away. If Remus closed his eyes he could almost pretend she was right there with him, the pair of them practising for whatever challenges they were soon to face.

“So where’s Lily on this fine evening?” Tonks questioned. “Don’t you two usually practice together around now?”

“Yeah,” Remus grunted as he picked up his phone, tucking it under his chin with his hands full. “But she was busy tonight.”

“No fucking way, she’s with James?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure.” Remus admitted, “But she sounded pretty suspicious.”

“Ooh.” Tonks gasped and Remus began carefully measuring flour and continuing where he left off. “All the Bake Off love this year.”

Remus laughed as he folded in his sugar, putting the batter in the oven before beginning to prepare the icing. “Oh hush you.”

Tonks just winked, sticking out her tongue. “You know you love me.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased as punch to welcome you to this year's Great British Bake off; the final!”

Sirius groaned, head tipping back at James’ enthusiastic introduction. “You did not just say ‘pleased as punch’.”

James feigned being hurt, placing a hand over his heart. “What would you prefer? Pleased as pudding? Pleased as pie?”

Sirius looked straight into the camera, his face blank but his amused eyes giving him away. “Someone please give me a new co-host, I can’t take this anymore.”

James laughed as he threw an arm over Sirius’ shoulder, the two of them easing the nerves of everyone in the tent tenfold. “Don’t worry Sirius darling, you haven’t got too long left with me because, like I said, we’ve reached the final!”

Remus smiled, hiding the hands he was wringing together under the table. It was the weirdest feeling - he was at once completely calm and so incredibly nervous. He couldn’t help but giggle at the antics of the infamous marauders and recalled that morning, lying in bed when Sirius had queried how much bullshit he’d be able to spout without any prior preparation. Remus had told him to go get ready but had promptly led them to activities that were in no way helpful to the rest of the day's events.

(It had been a good way to start the day though).

McGonagall and Dumbledore stood at the front of the tent, looking out at the eerily empty work stations, only three now filled. Remus and Lily were in the front two and Kingsley had come up to slot in behind Lily.

“We have a very exciting two days lined up,” Sirius said as he clasped his hands together, a natural in front of the cameras. Our bakers have no overall theme, so we’re going to get to see a little splash of everything!”

“For our signature challenge, our bakers have been asked to bake something that fits in with the theme of ‘final’’.” James said, taking his turn to speak again. “It can be anything from a cake inspired by the final book in a series or the last thing you had to eat, because tonight, there are no limits other than your imagination.”

Remus snorted and Sirius’ eyes found his as he elbowed James lightly. “Dramatic much.” He drawled before rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Are you ready?”

“On your marks,”

“Get set.”

“Bake!”

Remus hadn’t realised how much he would miss Tonks in the tent. He had missed her all week, but it wasn’t as if they ever had much chance to chat while they were filming, so he had thought it would be a little easier. But the tent was unusually quiet without her clattering at her station, inevitably breaking at least one piece of crockery per challenge.

“It’s too quiet,” Lily murmured, echoing Remus’ thoughts. “I almost feel like we’re not allowed to talk.”

Remus chuckled, remembering exams in home economics when he had been in secondary school and the teacher who would happily dole out zero marks if she so much as saw your lips move.

He grinned, taking a bowl he didn’t need from his station and ‘accidentally’ dropping it on the ground, the ceramic splitting with a loud crack.

“Oops!” He said loudly, glad he hadn’t ever tried to go into the theatre business, he was truly a terrible actor, and ran to grab a broom, not without winking at Lily who blew him a kiss.

“Much better, thanks!” She yelled after him and he just chuckled, disposing of the broken bowl, but not without slipping a shard into his apron pockets to take home with him as a little reminder.

Sirius meandered over after a little while as Remus put a tin in the oven to cook the soon-to-be sponge fingers for his tiramisu.

“You seem to be having a smashing time.” Sirius teased, his eyes alight.

“James already made that joke a few weeks ago.” Remus said laughing as he poured double cream into a bowl. “It’s really not that funny.”

Sirius just stuck out his tongue and moved to the next station, but Remus knew that had it been just the two of them, it was far more likely that Sirius would have taken much offence to the attack on his sense of humour, and a good snog would have been needed to make up for it.

James arrived no sooner than Sirius had left, peering into the bowl of ingredients that Remus was whipping, looking very much like he was contemplating dipping his finger in for a taste.

Marlene arrived, camera on her shoulder, surveying Remus’ station, sceptically watching Remus grate his dark chocolate.

“So Remus,” She began, fiddling with the lens to zoom in on his hands. “What has tiramisu got to do with the ‘final’ theme?”

“Well,” He said, suddenly feeling shy, wishing he didn’t have to explain. “Tonks, Andromeda Tonks, that is, had been planning to make a tiramisu for this episode, but she unfortunately was eliminated last week, so instead I’m making it.”

Some of the crew members cooed softly and Remus rolled his eyes, even as he blushed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m a big softie.” He glanced at Marlene once, smirking, then returned to his work, “Now fuck off and let me get on with it.”

“One of these days, Remus motherfucking Lupin,” Marlene grumbled as she walked away, not before snagging a square of chocolate to munch on, “One of these days I’m going to get you back.”

Remus’ dish was made pretty quickly, the most important part was leaving it in the fridge for as long as possible, so as soon as he had carefully layered the sponge and cream and chocolate of course, he set the fridge to the lowest temperature and put the big dish in. He had an idea of how he wanted to present it, but that all depended on whether or not it would be set properly.

He cleaned his station and set up everything he needed for when the dessert was set, but that only took ten minutes. Watching Lily and Kingsley rush around their stations while Remus had nothing left to do made him feel like he was back in school, the horrid panic of completing a test, thinking it was easy, then looking up to discover everyone else was still working intently. He put himself to work to avoid the fluttering in his chest, different to the loved up buzz he had been experiencing recently, no this tightness was more akin to the ‘oh no have I had ten shots of espresso’ variety. Remus wasn’t the biggest fan.

He made tea for the crew, including the judges and presenters, checked the progress of his dish, then made himself walk away from the fridge, lest he open it too often and slow down the cooling process. He chatted with Lily a bit while she worked and did an interview with James and Sirius, some more filler content now that there weren’t nearly as many bakers to keep up with, but the airing time of the show hadn’t changed.

“Need a hand?” He offered, turning to Lily who was crouched by her oven, gazing intently at her cake. “Nah I’m good.” She said, not looking up, “I don’t have anything to do until this little guy is cooked.”

“They never tell you how much waiting around there is.” Remus groaned, hopping up on his worktop. “I have been just sitting here for the best part of over an hour and I bet none of this is going to make the final cut.”

“You’d be right there!” Marlene chimed in, passing them on her way to video whatever complicated technique Kingsley was currently demonstrating. Remus raised an eyebrow at Lily, sighed and jumped off the counter. “I’m gonna check on my cakes now, thank you very much.”

Remus both loved and hated how there was no official ranking for the first challenge. He definitely loved it on days where he hadn’t done very well and didn’t want his failings it be broadcasted even more than they already had been, but today, with only three contestants left and the competition tangible, he wanted to know how much more impressive his next two bakes were going to have to be.

He supposed it didn’t really matter - he was going to do his very best no matter what.

Lily had made a cake shaped like a knitted hat, the piping terrifyingly realistic, in commemoration of the last hat her grandmother had made before she passed away. Kingsley had a coffee flavoured graduation cap to honour his girlfriend who was in her final year of college.

“We’re a bunch of sentimental saps.” Lily muttered to them both as they all walked out of the tent to go for lunch, the judges' praises ringing in their ears. They all seemed to be standing on equal footing for now.

“I know,” Remus groaned, throwing himself down on the grass under the sun. “I should have just done like, the final countdown or something.”

“Tonks is never gonna let you live this down.” Kinsley piped in.

“God, don’t remind me. I might just have to kill her before the episode airs, you know, save my reputation and all.”

“Oh, a spot of murder, how lovely.” James chirped as he and Sirius arrived, having been sent to retrieve all of their lunches, the three bakers claiming that they were too tired and as they always fed everyone else, it was time to switch it up.

James passed out sandwiches, pulling them from a bag, while Sirius handed Remus a salad.

Remus kissed Sirius on the cheek, “Thanks sweetheart.”

It took Remus a moment to realise what he had done, a moment more to remember that it was only Kingsley who hadn’t already known about their relationship. Kingsley who was looking very nonchalant and in no way surprised.

“Oh,” He said between bites, looking at Remus and Sirius’ panicked looks. “Was this meant to be a secret?”

Remus just burst out laughing, any tension that had appeared, vanishing in seconds. “I suppose we’re not very good at hiding it, huh?”

“Oi, speak for yourself.” Sirius jostled as he unwrapped his sandwich. “I’m an excellent secret keeper.”

“Alright everybody, welcome to the technical challenge of this year’s final!” James reintroduced them, everyone having returned to their stations, fresh aprons tied around their waist and judges standing at the top of the room watching over the proceedings.

“For our last technical challenge, the judges are asking you to make a classic sponge cake, but with a little twist.”

Remus eyed the mysterious pile of ingredients under the cloth on his table. He both loved and hated that blue and white gingham pattern, hated it because he wasn’t the biggest lover of surprises, and loved it because… well, because it was cute.

(Not every answer was super deep. The Pinterest boy in him was in love with the entire aesthetic of The Great British Bake Off).

“Our lovely judges have also requested that you make at least twelve meringue kisses to top your sponge cake.”

Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise - it wasn’t like the judges to add anything to something as classic as a sponge cake, but who was he to question? This was the final, anything was possible.

James and Sirius chattered on for a few more minutes, and then they were off, the three contestants whipping off their gingham cloths like a magician unveiling his assistant. Remus barely glanced at the vague recipe before setting off to make the meringues first. Their small size was deceptive and that’s why Remus thought the judges had included them - but they would take the most time to bake and cool.

He set about whipping egg whites and sugar as Marlene arrived by his side, taking a moment just to pan the camera over everything he was doing.

“Meringue kisses,” Marlene said, with a smug sounding tone. “Such a cute name. Go on Remus, tell us about your first kiss.”

Remus laughed, caught off guard, nearly spilling the extra sugar he was adding to the bowl. “Alright, which first kiss do you want to hear about? Cause technically I have a few.”

Marlene giggled with him and Remus felt like he was a schoolgirl, chatting about boys and kisses, like they were the beginning and end of everything. “The very first one.”

Remus could help but laugh again, shaking his head fondly at the memory. “It was awful.” he said, chuckling to himself. “I was thirteen and I kissed this girl called Mary on a dare.” He paused to look at the camera more directly. “Mary if you’re watching this, I’d apologise but we both know I’m right. That was a shit kiss.”

Remus grinned as he realised Marlene was going to let that explicative slide for the purpose of the story. Victorious at last.

“What about your other ‘first’ kisses.” Marlene prompted, overall looking thoroughly delighted by the stories. Remus paused for a moment to stop his mixer and run a spatula around the edge of the bowl to ensure everything was mixing well, before turning the mixer back on and stepping back.

“Well my first kiss with a boy was a year later and since my previous make-out experience consisted of the one kiss you already know about, I think it’s fair to say; that was pretty crap too.” He grinned at Marlene and started measuring the butter for his cake. “But it did solve the whole ‘sexuality crisis’ thing I had going on, so that was fun.”

He deemed his meringue mix whipped-enough so he carefully spooned batches into an icing bag and began piping tiny amounts onto a baking sheet.

“Then I suppose, there’s your first kiss with someone who really matters,” He said carefully, not looking up from his work. “With the person who’s so amazing that every kiss feels a little bit like the first one. Kinda makes you feel like every other kiss you’ve ever had was just practice for this exact moment.”

Remus was aware that his cheeks were a little pink, but then again, when were they not?

“And you’ve found that person?” Marlene asked softly, as Remus piped his last little swirl. He didn’t have to think about it, but he did suppose he should tell the person in question before quite literally broadcasting it to the nation. So instead he just winked.

“Sirius,” Remus said softly, later that night as they lay in bed, a movie playing in the background, Remus’ adrenaline still high from winning the technical challenge. “I know it’s early, so I'm not expecting anything back but since I might have just heavily implied it on national television I figured I should probably tell you that I’m in love with you.”

Sirius’ head didn’t move from Remus’ chest, instead he reached out and grabbed Remus’ free hand, pressing his knuckles to his soft lips. “I know.”

“You do?” Remus asked incredulously, trying (and failing) not to splutter.

Sirius chuckled, his voice deep. “Yeah, you said it in your sleep last night. Plus, I watched over the footage from today and I saw.”

Remus blushed. “Oh.”

Sirius twisted in his arms so Remus could finally see his eyes. They were sparkling and a playful smile twisted on Sirius’ lips.

“I love you too, you know.” Sirius said casually, as if commenting on the weather. Remus let his head drop back onto the pillow as a whoosh of relief escaped his mouth. Sure he hadn't expected to have Sirius say it back but this feeling was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

“Well no, I didn’t, actually.” Remus quipped, much to the ceiling’s amusement. “But it’s good to know.”

Suddenly Sirius was leaning over him, his hair falling around their faces like a dark curtain. “So are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Remus bit his lip, failing in his attempt not to smile. “Nah,” He said, a blatant lie as he raised himself onto his elbows and pressed their lips together. Sirius twisted so he could support himself on one arm, cupping Remus’ face with the other. “I loved what you said earlier,” He murmured against Remus’ lips. “About the first kiss thing. And I really, really love you.”

Remus just grinned against Sirius’ lips and pulled him closer. “Love you too. Now shut up and kiss me.”

“What’re you looking all smug about?” Lily teased, bumping their hips together as they strolled down to the tent. Remus had so many reasons for the butterflies in his chest, he could hardly stop his hands from shaking, but the smile hadn’t left his face since he woke up.

“Oh you know,” He said, waving his hand in feigned nonchalance. “I’m just a boy in love.”

“Fuck off, you said ‘I love you’?” Lily asked, her voice going up an octave.

“Mhm,” Remus confirmed, nodding. “So now you need to woman-up and kiss James fucking Potter like we both know you’ve wanted to do since the first day.” Lily looked as if she might protest, but Remus cut her off. “We both know I’m right. Plus, it’s fairly obvious that the feeling’s mutual, so for the love of all things holy, put the rest of us out of our misery and just snog the poor bugger.”

Lily laughed, even as she blushed and tried to shrug Remus off. “You know,” She started, shooting him a glare that was in no way intimidating. “I’m really not sure I like ‘in love Remus’.”

Remus just winked and kissed the top of her head, smirking wickedly. “I think we both know that’s a lie.”

“It’s here, the final.”

“We’ve already completed half of the final James.”

“Yeah but this is like… the final part of the final.”

“Someone please tell me why I’m friends with this bloke.”

“Oi!”

“Anyways!” Sirius interrupted. “I suppose James wasn’t fully wrong. We made it to the final stretch.”

“It’s time,” James took over, “For my personal favourite challenge. The showstopper.”

Sirius clasped his hands together in front of himself and Remus had to stop himself from staring at the movement. “For our final showstopper, our judges would like to see you recreate a memory.”

“It could be anything,” James continued, “From a chocolate Easter egg to a fondue waterfall, but it has to be your own memory and most importantly, it has to be edible.”

“Otherwise; we’d be the Great British Fake Off.” Sirius quipped and everyone in the tent collectively groaned, which only seemed to spur Sirius on even more.

“If our bakers are ready, I think we’ll begin. Ready Prongs?”

“Ready Pads.”

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

And maybe for the first time starting a challenge, Remus’ hands didn’t shake.

“Wotcha-makin?” Sirius asked, leaning around one side of Remus as James curved around the other.

“Cake.” Remus replied, not looking at either of them as he carefully evened out the batter in his tin before popping it in the oven. He then turned to face the two presenters, giving them exactly thirty seconds of his time for a round of rapid fire questions before he had to rush straight back into his work.

“What are you making?”

“A swing in a tree.”

“What kind of cake are you working with?”

“Mostly chocolate, but I have a few other elements working in.”

“What’s the memory you chose?”

Remus smiled softly. “One of my first real kisses.”

Sirius and James thanked him and left again, allowing him to get back to work. Remus had already filled Sirius in on all the details of his cake, he had even checked that it would be okay to use that idea in the first place. Sirius had just kissed him in response, enthusiastically and at length. The bakers had given all their details to the presenters and the camera crew before, so they could insert a voice-over effect to inform the audience of what was happening as the contestants were even more busy and focused than usual and weren’t giving too many interviews.

Remus had chosen several circular cake pans, in a range of different sizes and was going to stack all the cakes they produced on top of one another to create the tree trunk. The top of the tree was going to be made of a mix of white chocolate melted over Rice Krispies (with a little dash of green food dye thrown in) and moulded to look like the leafy crown of a tree in the summer. The swing would be the hardest to add, made of carefully moulded chocolate, Remus would have to be careful not to make the seat too heavy so that the ‘ropes’ and the actual tree itself would support its weight.

After taking all of his cakes out of the oven and setting them out to cool, and creating the swing set, Remus made the chocolate buttercream icing that would decorate the tree trunk. He carefully layered his cakes, using a knife to cut off the rough edges and make the cake slope gently upwards before slathering on thick layers of icing. Taking out a small, delicate knife, Remus carefully cut lines and patterns into the icing, aiming for it to look like the bark of a tree. Finally satisfied, he began melting the white chocolate to make the tree top.

“Looking good Re!” Lily enthused from behind her, forearms splattered in icing as she decorated her own cake, a letter with a bright red seal. Kingsley was working away too, apparently recreating the cover of the CD he bought the day his daughter was born.

“Celine Dion,” He had told Remus yesterday, chuckling. “I had never listened to her before, I don’t even know why I bought it, I just left the hospital with a need to celebrate and the music shop was the first place I came across. But what do you know? It turns out that my little girl loves it.”

Remus grinned at the memory, sweet even to him and admired Lily’s cake out loud. “It’s the acceptance letter to my college,” She was explaining to the camera. “I got a full scholarship, so it’s pretty special.”

Remus turned his attention to his now-melted chocolate and added the green carefully, not wanting to make it too light or two dark. He had found that five drops got him the colour he was looking for - the pale chocolate requiring that little extra for the colour to darken. He then added the cereal and stirred it in together, folding it in with his spatula.

He gave his hands a thorough wash again as he waited for the mixture to cool just enough that he could mould it, but not so much that it set, and got back to work, spooning the green mix on top of his tree trunk until there was enough for him to start shaping it. He attached the chocolate swing very carefully as soon as he was satisfied and brought it straight to the fridge to set.

And then he was done.

He looked around the tent, thinking surely this couldn’t be it, he must have something more to do, but no, there was nothing left. His cake was made and decorated and now only time could tell what would happen next.

Feeling a tad useless, Remus set about cleaning his station and clicked the kettle, fulfilling his tradition in providing the crew with tea. He had just made his own one when James announced the official ten minute warning. They were nearly done.

Suddenly Remus’ heart was in his chest. He had been impeccably calm until this moment, a fact that had surprised him but he hadn’t questioned as it was much easier to bake when your hands weren’t shaking and your heart wasn’t thundering. But all the adrenaline rushed into him now as he realised that one way or another, he was finished with the Great British Bake Off.

At the ‘two minutes’ call, Remus took his cake out of the fridge and gave it a final look over. He tweaked the carving in the tree trunk and double checked that the swing would hold its place and then Sirius asked everyone to step away from their creations.

Dumbledore and McGonagall re-entered the room. Remus’ pulse matched every step they took.

“Kingsley,” They called, and the man in question carefully walked his cake to the table at the top of the tent. Remus watched as the judges 'oohed' and 'awed', admiring the level of detail, right down to the serial number Kingsley had apparently memorised.

Lily went next, her piping skills on display, demonstrating her lovely cursive handwriting that read her own name and an edited home address, signed and sealed by the headmaster. In their practice bakes, Remus had seen many versions of the cake on display but he had no doubt that this was her best work yet.

Finally it was Remus’ turn, and he walked up to the front carefully, trying to keep his breathing even. He had a mental image of himself falling and his cake going everywhere but he batted it out of his mind. His cake was the tallest by far and god, he could only hope, the best.

Sirius caught his eye as they cut the cake and winked. To anyone else, it would look like a presenter trying to calm the nerves of a contestant, but Remus heard the words that had been whispered to him that morning as the sun rose.

“You’re gonna win this.”

Remus had blushed and batted him away, but Sirius had looked at him earnestly. “No, Re, seriously. They base these things on who does best that week. And you’ve already won the technical. If you go and blow them away today, just like you always do, you’ve got this in the bag.”

Remus blushed and hit his face in a pillow but he linked their legs together.

“Besides,” Sirius teased, rolling on his back and tucking his arms under his head. Cocky. “You’ve already won the best prize.”

Remus had playfully kicked his ankle and Sirius’ resounding laugh still echoed in his ears.

“Ah, Mr Lupin,” Dumbledore began casually as he picked up a knife, perhaps unaware that he held Remus’ future in his hands. “This is rather impressive.”

Remus swallowed as the slices were cut and set onto plates. “Thank you.”

“You have no adventurous flavours for us I see,” McGonagall observed as she picked up her fork.

“No,” Remus confirmed. “Chocolate is my speciality, and well, I wanted to keep it simple.”

That seemed to be all the commentary they wanted as they both nodded with a small smile and took a bite.

“Excellent Mr Lupin.” McGonagall said. And that was it. They were done. The judges thanked them all and retreated to the back room to do whatever it is the judges do and make some decisions. The cast broke into a round of applause and Remus tugged Lily under his arm, Kingsley joining the little hug soon after.

“Can you believe that’s it?” Lily asked them and the two boys just shook their heads.

“No more non-stop baking.” Kingsley sighed. “I don’t know if I’m sad or relieved.”

“Both.” Remus laughed. “Definitely both.”

“Okay you lot,” James interrupted. “We have a little something for you outside.”

They all grinned. As loyal bake-off fans, they all knew what was coming. They walked outside the tent to picnic tables set up and laden with the cakes they made that day, along with all the eliminated contestants of that year and the families of the finalists.

Remus beamed at Tonks before sweeping his mother up into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” Hope said to him as she gripped him close. Remus chuckled as he bent to half his size, squeezing her just as tight. “Thanks Mam.”

“Now introduce me to this man of yours.” Hope teased, speaking low even though the microphones were elsewhere and they were surrounded by noise. Remus flushed, but he beckoned Sirius over with a tilt of his chin, so subtle no camera could have caught it. Remus had told his mom about everything and she had been begging for more information, only just stopping short of looking up celebrity gossip, although she did send Remus one or two pictures of Sirius on red carpets with the caption ‘your children would be beautiful’.

Sirius looked more nervous than Remus had ever seen him, holding his hand out to be shaken, but Hope just pulled him into a hug.

“It’s lovely to meet you Mrs Lupin,” Sirius said, looking a little surprised as Hope cupped his face in her hands and gave him a proper look. Remus hid his laugh in his elbow as Hope patted Sirius’ cheek fondly. “You’ve got good taste.” She said to him, tilting her head towards Remus, who blushed.

“The best.” Sirius agreed.

“Remus!” Tonks yelled, tired of being ignored and pulled Remus’ attention elsewhere. “Your cake was brilliant!”

Remus laughed running his fingers through his hair, the pink staining his cheeks permanent it would seem. “Thanks Tonks.”

The bright haired woman just grinned and wrapped an arm around Remus before cheerfully introducing herself to Hope. Sirius excused himself as he had to go with James to chat with the judges and Lily joined them with her parents, Kingsley standing with his family and talking to Fabian about knitting of all things. They sat in the garden, the sun shining bright, a few fluffy white clouds lazing their way across the sky. They chatted about everything and nothing as they munched on an endless amount of cake, Remus just sipping on tea as he hadn’t had the foresight to make anything gluten free. He was distracted, Lily and Kingsley were too and everyone around them knew it, not minding when they drifted in and out of the conversation. As nervous as he was, Remus knew this moment right here was his favourite, living his literal dream, surrounded by friends and family. That even gave him a sense of calm.

Until the presenters and judges emerged from the tent, all wearing welcoming smiles that revealed nothing. They stopped at the table draped in a pristine white cloth and topped with three beautiful flower bouquets and an engraved glass cake stand. There was no big cash prize in the bake-off, and Remus loved that. It made it all the more endearing to him, and it only allowed for the most passionate bakers to enter, the ones who baked for the love of it, not for money.

For once, James and Sirius were quiet, not needing to grab anyone's attention as the focus was already entirely on them. The three remaining bakers lined up before them as they had previously been instructed by the crew, and then the judges began speaking.

“This year, we had the most wonderful collection of bakers,” Dumbledore started, having to pause already as the applause had already commenced. “And our finalists even more so. I do believe this was the most difficult final we’ve had to judge in a long time, isn’t it Minerva?”

“It was,” McGonagall agreed, nodding. “We had a truly fine selection and the most beautiful array of cakes today. But in the end, there can only be one winner.”

Remus was certain everyone in attendance could hear his heartbeat. Lily’s hand was clammy in his own.

“It is with the greatest pleasure that I can announce that this year’s winner of The Great British Bake Off is…”

James and Sirius picked up a bouquet of flowers each, as did Dumbledore, McGonagall presenting the cake stand. Lily squeezed his hand, and Kingsley’s on the other side too he was sure.

“Remus Lupin.”

Remus blinked even as Lily threw herself on him in a bone-crushing hug, the judges approaching him to present him with his prize. Distantly he saw Sirius and James handing flowers to Kingsley and Lily, but he was in a daze. Dumbledore kissed him on the cheeks and McGonagall shook his hand with a knowing wink and suddenly Remus’ arms were heavy with flowers and expertly crafted glass.

Kingsley shook his hand, patting his shoulder in congratulations and James pulled him into a little side hug. Remus beamed at them, the crowd still cheering and clapping behind him as he reached forward and grabbed Sirius’ shirt, pulling him in for a kiss.

The crowd roared behind them and suddenly Remus realised where he was and what he was doing as he pulled away. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He said frantically. “I wasn’t thinking, I fucking shit- Christ- sorry!”

Sirius laughed and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist. “I’m not. I love you, and I don’t care who knows. Now shut that filthy mouth of yours and kiss me, you absolute wanker.”

So Remus did.

The newspapers the next day had many headlines, but Remus’ personal favourite? ‘BRITISH BAKE OFF - STAR AND BAKER!’

THREE MONTHS LATER

The bakery was loud and busy and completely hectic and Remus loved every single second working there. Not a day went by that he wasn’t teased about his bake-off status and he was working on his degree here in London. Basically his life was everything he ever could have dreamed it would be.

“Remus, there’s someone here for you!” His co-worker, Katie, called from the front of the shop and Remus grinned, not even bothering to take off his apron as he wiped his hands against the fabric, opening the door with his shoulder, thanking Katie for the message even as his eyes scanned the shop floor.

Sirius.

Standing there in his leather jacket, his hands tucked into the pockets, motorcycle resting outside the door. “Hey,” He greeted, with a lazy smile. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Remus nodded before freezing. “Wait no, I have to ice a few more pastries, they’re our best-seller.”

Sirius rolled his eyes laughing. “Oh,” He said, waving it off. “Let them eat cake.”

FIN.

[one-boring-person]

Too Bad, Sweetheart. (Part One)

The Expendables x reader

Warnings: swearing, death, gun use, injury, alcohol consumption

Context: after an incident on a job, the reader is "let go" from the team, only for them to realise they want them back.

A/n: I hope this isn't as bad as I think it is 😅

This reached the "long post" limit thing, so I'm uploading it in two parts

Masterlist

After having spent years in a profession where I often have people trying to kill me in my own home, my mind has easily become attuned to when something is wrong, and right now, something is definitely off. Standing before the door of my dingy apartment, I feel a frown crease my brow as I look over the battered door, my hand instinctively moving to the small of my back, where my pistol is tucked into my jeans, as it always is, the other hand going to take hold of the door handle. I pause where I am, uncaring of how stupid I must look, listening closely to the area around me, tuning out all external sounds except the telltale ones of some person coming towards me. 

There's nothing, only heavy silence.

Not quite trusting the thick quiet, I try the handle, only half surprised when it's unlocked, the door cracking open with a soft noise. Cursing internally, I push it open completely, making sure no one is stood behind it as I wait just before the threshold in case there's someone on the other side. Nothing happens, so I step inside, drawing my gun and holding it by my side, cocking it with one hand.

Swinging the door closed behind me, I stand in the darkness for a moment, allowing my eyes to swiftly adjust, sweeping the room as I do so, easily locating the intruder. A figure is sat, facing away from me, on my worn old couch, the silhouette easily recognisable to me, even from the little I can see. Instantly, I feel the low burn of anger bite at the back of my throat, my face falling into a state of blankness as I make my way over to him, having made sure the rest of the room is safe, my steps slow and soft, though I know he is aware of my presence. To my surprise, however, he doesn't move. Not even when I press the cold muzzle of the gun up against his skull.

"Get out." I order him, keeping my voice level and cold as I hold the gun to his head.

"And "hello" to you, too." The familiar voice snarks back at me, his British accent as thick as the last time I heard it.

"I'm not gonna ask again." I ignore his greeting, pushing lightly with the gun until his head tips forwards slightly.

Slowly, the man stands, turning to face me, my gun pointed directly at his forehead as he trains scrutinizing eyes on me.

"You ain't looking so good, (Y/n). Out of work?" He questions, reaching over to flick on the desk light on the coffee table, casting us both in a warm light. Lee's features seem softer like this, though there's a harshness behind his eyes.

At his comment, I feel a poisonous scowl etch itself onto my face, my anger flaring up now. My grip on the gun tightens.

"Get out." I repeat, my voice strained now as I hold back my seething fury.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" He scoffs, stepping away from my gun and going over to the wall, turning on the main light.

"That's generally what a gun is used for." I reply, keeping the weapon trained on him.

Lee shrugs, leaning against the wall.

"In my experience, it's always more of a scare-tactic." The mercenary remarks, before he gestures to the room around us, "This is a bit of a downgrade."

Again, I feel myself start to seethe, my muscles going tight, his comments starting to rile me up.

"Get. The fuck. Out." I snap, nodding to the door, clenching my jaw tightly.

"Easy, it was just an observation." Lee furrows his brow, "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do." I scoff, scowling harder.

"Yeah, we do actually."

"What makes you think I want to talk?" I practically snarl, fed up with his pestering.

"Not much, doesn't mean we're not gonna." He shrugs again, a smirk playing briefly at the corners of his mouth, "We need you back on the team."

Silence settles on us. A look of disbelief crosses my face, followed by outrage, then anger, before settling on cynical amusement. I can't stop the sharp, dry laugh that escapes me.

"Do you, now?" I roll my eyes, trying to suppress the rolling anger in my gut.

"Yeah, we've got a job that we're gonna need your expertise on. We thought about others, but Barney insisted it was you. I know you left and all-" He starts, watching me hopefully, only for me to interrupt him.

"Hold on, I left? Last I checked, you assholes fired me." I growl, unbelievably angry now.

"Err, well, yeah, but we made a mistake. We need you back, (Y/n), we've gotta do this, and we need you to help. Barney wants to take you on again. He regrets letting you go, and so do the rest of us. We miss you, (Y/n). Please come back." Lee nearly pleads with me, stepping forwards.

"Give me a break, Christmas. What makes you think I want to go with you? After what you all did to me?" I bite back, gesturing around myself, "You think you can break into my "downgraded" apartment, tell me I look like shit and ask if I'm "out of work" after everything that happened? Jesus, Christmas, did you guys get gassed or something?"

He's speechless. Blinking, he stares at me, fumbling for words.

"Sure, at one time, that might have been banter. Maybe we'd have joked about it, and we'd have teased each other. But now?" I laugh wryly, "Not in your wildest dreams, Christmas."

Again he struggles to find words, an occurrence I remember being scarce, the Brit always having something to say.

"Now, get the hell out of my apartment before I shoot. And no, I won't hesitate." I order him, nodding to the door again.

With a sigh, Lee casts me one last look, before he goes to the door and steps out, clearly defeated.

*

Gunfire pelts the air around me, my own gun spitting back at my attackers as I peek out from behind the fallen crate, my ears ringing from the barrage of sound. A wound at my hip bleeds profusely, a bullet somehow having managed to get past my body armour and to skin, leaving me with an injury that'll most likely scar.  At this moment, I don't care, my attention focused on the targets across the room, adrenaline making it impossible to feel too much pain in any case, allowing me to take out the enemies with relative ease. To my left, I can hear Toll and Caesar shouting at each other, the latter bringing out one of his heavier guns as they chase a unit of soldiers only a nearby hallway, leaving me alone in the room with the other killers.

Gritting my teeth, I feel the clip come to an end, meaning I have to drop back behind cover and reload, swiftly unfastening the magazine. Throwing it aside, I go to take up a new one, only to realise I'm totally out, leaving me with my pistol and a couple of knives. I swing the rifle onto my back, taking out my pistol and cocking it, before I lean back out of safety, shooting a couple of shots.

All of them hit, leaving me in an empty room, my breathing hard and ragged as I try to recover. Leaning back against the crate, I nearly have time to catch my breath again before the gunfire starts again. 

This time, it's only from one gun, a handheld pistol of sorts, probably like mine, the owner not shooting at anything in particular. Frowning, I glance around, my eyes widening as I see who it is.

It's our target, Pierce Fenwick, the rogue mercenary stepping into the centre of the room with a smirk, his eyes on mine. Confused, I raise my gun, ready to shoot if he does, painfully aware of my orders to keep him alive. They'd stressed this: keep the target alive, he's needed for questioning. I had no problem with this, but I'm still wary of him.

The final shot ricochets off of the walls, leaving the room in silence again, the report ringing out around the space. 

"I know you're there. You might as well come out." Fenwick calls out, his smirk evident in his voice, "I'm not gonna shoot."

Not quite believing him, I wait a couple of minutes, unsure of what to do.

"Come on, I know you need me, so I'll go quietly." He tries again, his conviction finally persuading me to hesitantly stand and face him.

"Ah, there you are." He grins mockingly, "Here to get me?"

Staying quiet, I edge forwards, my gun aimed at his head.

"Too bad, sweetheart. I don't intend on going anywhere. At least not in this life." With that, he lifts his own gun, pressing it against his forehead. 

I have time to widen my eyes before the gunshot tears through the quiet, leaving me standing in front of a collapsing body.

Instantly, horror fills me, dread and despair flooding my being as I step forwards, only to hear a pair of sharp intakes of breath behind me. Spinning on my heel, I see Barney and Lee standing there, Toll, Caesar and Gunnar quickly joining them. All of them carry shocked faces.

"What the fuck have you done?!" Barney finally manages, his tone low and laced with fury.

Confused, I glance between them and the body, only now realising what it looks like. Eyes widening, I turn back to them, raising my hands.

"I didn't shoot him! He shot himself!" I try to argue, but it's already too late.

The boys shoot me foul looks as they file past, heading to the body to see if there's any way of recovering him. Finding none, they turn to me, scowl in place.

"Nice one, (Y/n)." Gunnar growls, walking away.

"What? I didn't do anything!" I try to reply, only for the others to step past me, all except Barney, who stops before me.

"We're not blind, or stupid. You've just cost us the entire job, and that's a lot of money. We had specific orders to keep him alive, and you disobeyed them." Barney sighs, his expression furious, "We'll fly you back, but once you're there get your stuff from the hangar."

My mouth falls open as he leaves me there, not quite able to understand what just happened.

Part Two

[americasass91]

Healing Ransom

Hello beautiful people!! This will be my first (I’m sure of many) submissions for @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ amazing Autumn Challenge! Fall is my favorite time of the year! It’s got beautiful colors! Pumpkin everything! And Halloween? You just can’t beat it! I hope you enjoy this little story. It stars our one and only Mean Sweater Murder Daddy, Ransom!

Verbal Prompts:

“Please don’t be sad for me.”

“Shove it, satan.”

Location/activity prompts:

Walking through a park with leaves

Jumping in/raking leaves

Words: 3.8k

Rating: Explicit(of course it is😋)

Warnings: smut, Ransom being his usual dickish self, slight angst, death of minor character, funerals, sadness, language

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

You had only been asleep for about an hour and a half when you were abruptly woken up by a cell phone vibrating loudly.

You open one eye and look towards the nightstand your phone is on. It’s silent. That means it’s his phone.

You smack your fuck buddy on the back of the head. “Ow, Y/N what the actual fuck?”

You turn over and pull the covers higher up on your naked body. “Your phone’s ringing asshole.”

He mumbles something under his breath you don’t quite catch as he reaches for his phone. “It’s Linda. Ugh she’s probably drunk again and calling to tell me how worthless I am. Fuck her.”

He throws the phone down on the bed and gets comfortable. “And why are you still here? You know how I feel about you spending the night.”

You raise your hand and flip him off. “You’re the one that fucked me into submission. I can’t help it that I fell asleep right after. Don’t worry, your highness, I’ll be out of your hair first thing in the morning.”

He’s about to reply when his phone starts vibrating right against your ass. You shriek and sit up and grab the phone.

Before Ransom even comprehends that you have it, you answer.

“Hello, Linda. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to Ransom please.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

You hand the phone to Ransom who looks at you incredulously. “Just take it. She sounds upset.”

He just rolls his eyes and snatches the phone from you. “Mother, why in the fuck are you calling me at 3 in the morning?”

You’re not entirely sure what she’s saying but Ransom went from being annoyed to showing no emotion on his face.

“When?...Who found him?...Okay..well, thanks for letting me know.” He hangs up and throws the phone back onto the nightstand.

He’s silent for a few minutes. He looks over at your questioning stare.

“My father died. Heart attack. His maid found him. Guess he’d been there for awhile.”

You immediately go to pull him into a hug. “Oh, Ransom. I’m so sorry.”

He pushes you away. “Please don’t be sad for me. He was a piece of shit who smoked like a chimney and never took care of himself. It was just a matter of time before something liked this happened.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “But he was your dad, Ransom. It’s okay to be sad about it.” You reach out and place a hand on his shoulder.

He grabs your hand and yanks you onto his lap. “I’m not sad. I don’t actually feel anything. It’s not like we had any kind of a relationship. Now how about since we’re both awake we go for round 5?”

You just roll your eyes and let him take your body to euphoria once more.

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That following Saturday you wake up to the sight of beautiful changing leaves. God you love Fall. It was the best time of the year in your opinion. Pumpkin everything? Yes please! Halloween? Oh, fuck yeah! Your favorite holiday.

You decide you can’t let this beauty go to waste. You throw back the covers and quickly dress in some leggings and a burgundy sweater you’re pretty sure belongs to Ransom.

You can’t help but admire all the beautiful Fall colors as you begin your walk. You don’t even need music right now. You feel so at peace during this particular morning. All the beautiful colors. The slight chill in the air. The smell of cider someone is selling from a cart up the way. You’re definitely going to have to get some of that.

You spot a pile of leaves on your way to the cart and you have the strongest urge to run and jump in them. You stop walking and look around. You’re alone. Fuck it.

You take off and giggle like a little girl again as you launch yourself at the pile of leaves. You lose yourself in them. Forgetting everything for a moment and just enjoying the freeing feeling. You’re enjoying it so much you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket.

You sit up and fish it out to see who’s interrupting your childlike moment. Ransom. You roll your eyes. The only time he calls you is when he wants sex. You’re just going to have to tell him you’re too busy at the moment.

You answer and put the phone to your ear as you lay back amongst the leaves. “Ransom, I cannot come over for some fuckery right now. I’m in my happy place.”

“Y/N. Hey. That’s not why I’m calling. Linda just called to let me know the funeral is tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d go with me?”

He doesn’t sound like himself. Sad almost. “Sure, Ran. Of course I’ll be there. Just let me know what time.”

“Visitation is from 2-4. The funeral starts right after. Then of course we’ll go bury him. Sorry your whole day will be full. I know how much you love your weekends.”

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air as if he can see it. “Ransom, don’t worry about that. This is more important. And besides, Monday is Columbus Day so I have an extra day off.”

“So that means you’ll be able to spend the night with me tomorrow night?”

You feel butterflies in your stomach. He’s never asked you to spend the night.

“Well, sure if that’s what you want.”

“Thanks, I’ll need to fuck all of my frustrations out from being around my family all day.”

Ah, there’s the ulterior motive. You feel your heart sink a little. “Yeah, sure. How about I’ll just come to your place tomorrow around 1 and we can head over to the funeral together?”

“Sure, sure. Look I have to go. I have to try to get this chapter written today. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course. Good luck with the chapter.”

“Oh and Y/N? Have fun playing in the leaves.”

With that he hangs up. You look around to make sure he’s nowhere around. How did he know you were in a pile of leaves?

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You head into the funeral with Ransom at around 1:45. Despite everything you can’t help but notice he looks handsome in his dark blue suit.

“God I hate funerals.” He says as he gazes around the room. He spots Linda.

“Well, who likes them?” You ask him as she approaches.

She throws her arms around Ransom’s neck. He reluctantly returns the hug.

“Oh, Ransom! I just can’t believe he’s gone.”

Ransom just rolls his eyes as he looks at you. He mouths ‘Help me’

You put your hand on Linda’s back. “Oh, Linda. I’m so sorry he’s gone.”

She lets go of Ransom and turns towards you. “Thank you dear. Even though he wasn’t my husband anymore I still loved him. A part of me always will.”

You glance over at Ransom who’s trying to avoid Walt that just walked in. You can’t help but know how she feels about loving someone like that. You love Ransom no matter what the 2 of you are. You think you always will.

You nod your head. “Of course you will. He was a big part of your life. And he’s Ransom's dad. He’ll always have a special place in your heart.”

She pulls you in for a hug. When she pulls back she cups your cheek. “I’m well aware that you’re too good for my son. But please don’t leave him. He can’t do any better than you.”

With that she heads over to greet more people filing in. You stand there shocked at her words. Linda has never been unpleasant towards you but that was the nicest damn thing she’s ever said to you.

You spot Ransom leaning against the opposite wall as far away from the other people as he can get.

You head over and stop in front of him with your arms crossed. “Ransom, aren’t you supposed to be talking to your family? Letting people give their condolences.”

“Fuck these people, Y/N. None of them gave a shit about Richard. I bet half of the women in this room fucked him at one point.”

You look around wide eyed to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Luckily they weren’t. “Jesus, Ransom be quiet! This is a funeral. And unlike you, some people are here to grieve!”

“Whatever, Y/N! You’re such a bitch. You didn’t like him either! You always called him a creep! So don’t stand there and act live you give a shit that he’s dead!”

Your mouth drops open. God he’s such an asshole! “You know what, fuck you Ransom! I do give a shit! Just because I thought he was a creep doesn’t mean I wanted him to die! I understand you’re grieving right now but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit. Maybe you should find somebody else to fuck out your frustrations on!”

By now the whole room is looking at you 2. You didn’t mean to be so loud but god dammit did he piss you off.

“You know what, Y/N? Maybe I will! Fuck off!”

He pushes away from the wall and stomps towards the door. “SHOVE IT, SATAN!” You can’t help but yell after him. You then take a look around the room and see everyone staring at you. “Sorry about that.” You quickly leave the room and head towards the kitchen area. You hear footsteps behind you. You turn around and see Meg following you.

“Y/N? Are you okay? God he is such a piece of shit.” She pulls you in for a hug,

You return it gratefully. “Thanks but I’m just worried about Linda. She’s already upset and I am certainly not making things any easier.”

She scoffs as she pulls away from you. “Oh, please! She was chuckling when you called him satan. Said it was an accurate name for him.”

You smile at her feeling relieved. “That’s good then. How are you holding up?”

She returns your smile. “I’m okay. Uncle Richard and I didn’t have a close relationship but I’ll still miss our debates we had.”

You nod in understanding. “I guess I should go find satan.”

Before you have a chance to leave the kitchen, Ransom comes in. He comes over and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just don’t want to be here and I’m sick of these people pretending to grieve when I know they don’t care and I took my anger out on you. You were nice enough to be here with me today, you don’t deserve how I treated you.”

Your heart skips a beat. He never apologizes for anything. You pull away from the hug and cup his cheek. “It’s okay. Apology accepted. You get a free pass today. Now how about we head back in?”

He grabs your wrist and places a kiss on your palm. “Okay, will you stay by me?”

You pull him in for a quick peck. “Of course, I’m not going anywhere.”

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The funeral was tastefully done. Ransom refused to ride over in the limo with the rest of the family. He said he wanted to drive over with you.

You pull into the cemetery and get out of the car. You look around for the gravesite. You don’t see one. “Ran, where’s the gravesite?”

Ransom just chuckles and points at the hill. “On the top of the hill. He wanted to be buried in the most expensive spot.”

You look down at your black pumps and then over at the slightly muddy hill. Well this should be fun.

Ransom sees your hesitation. “There’s a brick pathway. Your shoes are safe.”

You sigh in relief. Thank god. You follow the crowd that has now gathered toward the path. Ransom follows in step beside you. He grabs your hand and laces your fingers together. You feel those stupid butterflies in your stomach again.

You can’t help but admire the beautiful fall foliage. It puts a smile on your face despite the sad day.

Ransom rolls his eyes playfully at you. “You and your Fall.”

“It’s beautiful, Ransom! How can you not love it?”

You’re too busy looking at all the leaves to notice him staring at you. “Yeah, it is beautiful.”

You reach the gravesite and stand with Ransom near the front. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. If anything he’s holding onto it tighter.

You can’t help but let some tears fall as the minister says some more beautiful words. You chance a glance at Ransom and you see him wipe a single tear from his face. That makes you give his hand a reaffirming squeeze.

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Ransom wasn’t lying when he said he was going to fuck out his frustrations on you. He took you right against the wall as soon as you walked into his house. Then again on the island in the kitchen. And again on the stairs. (You’re sure to have bruises from that escapade). Finally finishing in his bed. You passed out almost right after the last one.

You woke up around 2 am with the urge to pee. You look over and see Ransom’s side of the bed empty. He must be downstairs rehydrating after all that fucking. You decide to quickly pee and then head down to find him.

He’s not in the kitchen like you thought. You’re about to go check his study to see if he’s up writing when you see a light on in the living room. You head in and see him sitting on the couch. His back is to you so he hasn’t realized you’re in the room yet. There’s something sitting on his coffee table. You move forward quietly trying not to disturb him in case he wants to be alone.

When you get close enough you see that it’s a framed picture of him and his dad. Ransom can’t be older than 16. They have their arms around each other’s shoulders. His prized Beemer is in the background with a big red bow on top.

That’s when you hear the sniffling. You quickly round the couch and see that Ransom is clutching a pillow and sobbing into it. You take a seat next to him. You put a comforting hand on his back and rub it up and down in a soothing manner.

He looks up at you, tears covering his cheeks. “You know I think this is the only picture I have of me and my dad. I think he was happier than me that day. He was so proud to pass his car down to me.”

You just smile sadly and pull him in for a hug. He throws the pillow away and pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. You gently wipe away his tears with your thumbs. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I never even knew him, Y/N. And now I’m never gonna get the chance to.” He buries his face into the crook of your neck and tightens his arms around your waist. He starts sobbing again.

You rub one hand up and down his back and run your other through his hair. “Shhh, Ransom. I know you’re hurting. I’m so sorry you lost him.”

“I fucking hate this, Y/N! I hate feeling like this. So helpless. And he fucking died alone. That’s gonna be me. I don’t want to die alone.” He looks up at you so innocently. So heartbroken.

You grab his face with both hands. “Hugh Ransom Drysdale, you’re not going to die alone. If you’re that afraid of it then change your ways.”

He lowers his eyes towards his hands that are resting on your hips. “I just hate feeling this way. I didn’t even know him. Why am I so fucking sad?” He looks back up at you.

“Because you didn’t know him and you’re regretting that. It’s too late to do anything about it now. Unfortunately you’re just going to have to deal with it and grieve. Doesn’t mean you can’t change your other relationships though. So you don’t feel like this ever again.”

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in just enough until your lips are touching. “It hurts so much, Y/N. Please help me forget. Even for just a little bit. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.” He pulls you in for a fierce kiss, enough to take your breath away.

After you gain back some control you push against his chest. “Ransom, I don’t think this is the best way-”

“Please,Y/N? Please take the pain away.”

Your heart breaks. You look him in the eye and nod your head. He pulls you back in for another heated kiss. If this was the only way you could take away his pain, even if temporary, you’ll give it to him.

You put your hands in his hair and give it a tug making him groan. One of his hands moves to your ass, making you grind against his growing erection. The other remains on the back of your neck, not letting you break the kiss. He needs you close right now.

He pulls back from the kiss. “Need you, baby. Please.”

You quickly stand up to remove your pajama shorts and panties while he lowers his sweats just enough to free himself. You straddle him again and stroke his length up and down a few times, smearing his pre-cum all over. You guide him to your entrance and sink down on him. “Fuck, Ransom. Always feels so good.”

You give yourself a few minutes to adjust once your hips are flush against his. He settles his hands on your waist while yours rest on his shoulders. You lean in for a kiss before you start moving up and down on him. Moving at the hard and fast pace you know he always prefers.

“Wait, baby, slow down.” He grips your hips to stop your movements. You look at him confused. He always likes it hard and fast. He tightens his hold on your hips and starts grinding you on him. “Just need to feel you, Y/N. Can we slow down?”

Your heart flutters. “Of course.” You take over and start grinding against him. Keeping a slow rhythm. You throw your head back and moan. God he feels amazing. You can feel every part of him like this. Usually he’s going so fast you don’t get to appreciate the feeling of him dragging along your walls like this. This isn’t about reaching orgasm. This is intimacy. This is about feelings.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck. “You feel so good, baby. You take me so well. Like you were made for me. Made to fit me. My beautiful Y/N.”

You can feel tears well up in your eyes. You know this might not feel the same for him but it’s making you fall even more in love with him than what you already were.

You're not going to last long. Not only are your emotions getting the best of you but your clit is rubbing deliciously against his pelvis. He can feel you fluttering on his cock.

He pulls back and looks at you. “Gonna come for me pretty girl? I can feel you. You’re squeezing me so good. Let go, Y/N. I’m right behind you.”

You fall apart at his words. His name is a whisper on your lips. He buries his face back into the crook of your neck as he meets his end with a groan. Filling you up with everything he has.

You both stay like that for a minute. Just holding each other like you were afraid the other would disappear. He pulls back and looks at you again. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and smiles softly at you. “I love you, Y/N. God I love you so fucking much.”

You feel tears fall down your face. “I love you too, Ransom. Always have and always will. I won’t let you die alone.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “No more of this fuck buddy stuff. I’m in this for real. For the long haul. I can’t feel like this ever again. I can live with how I feel about my dad. But you? I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“We’re talking about a relationship here Ransom. The exact thing you always said you didn’t want. What if it doesn’t work out? What if you change your mind?”

“It will work out, I’ll make sure it does. I won’t be changing my mind. You’re it for me.  But if for some reason you decide I’m not what you want, then at least I can say I tried. I’m willing to regret you for the rest of my life.”

You melt at his words. This is all you’ve ever wanted. For him to love you. Why the fuck were you questioning it?

You lean back in for another kiss. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You lean in for another kiss. “Okay. But I’m exhausted. Can you take me to bed now?”

He chuckles and stands you both up. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

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You wake up the next morning with the biggest smile on your face. Not only did Ransom confess his love for you last night but it was the most beautiful Fall day outside. You wondered if you could convince him to go for a walk with you.

The smell of coffee hits your nose and you quickly throw back the covers to head downstairs. As you turn to head into the kitchen you find Ransom. He’s dialing a number on his phone. His back is to you.

Curious, you stay behind for a minute to see who he’s calling.

“Hello, Mom? Hi. How are you?...Good….Yeah she’s here, she’s upstairs sleeping. I know, I’m not gonna let her go. Hey listen I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch with me today, just us?”

You can’t help the big smile that spreads across your face. Maybe Ransom was changing after all.

All Cevans characters taglist: @stargazingfangirl18​

[heli0s-writes]

IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.  

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

-

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud. 

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

-

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.  

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.  

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again. 

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

<Two days ago, pictures were taken in Hong Kong of James Barnes and a mysterious woman. Our sources here at TVB have worked tirelessly to uncover her identity.>

<Today we have the pleasure of introducing her to everyone tuning in. This is the first time you’ve ever been in the public eye, and astonishingly, next to two of the best pilots in the Program. There are so many questions, but first, the whole world wants to know…. why keep it secret?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally­­—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

<Natasha Romanoff-->

“She was one of a kind.”

<Was it hard to—>

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until  Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses. 

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

<The jacket tells a different story.>

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

<Do you plan for James to return to the cockpit? Is that the goal? James, how do you feel about all of this, taken away from your own Jaeger?>

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay.  “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

<What is priority at the moment?>

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.” 

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

-

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”  

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.” 

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

[iridescent-petrichor]

we’ll meet again, chapter eight

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: none just the plot of Apocalypse !

Words: 3K (jesus)

Previous Chapter

A/N: final chapter!! hope u guys liked this, i do already have another peter series idea but i might do some oneshots for a bit before i start that :-)

“Were you scared?” Jean was the first one to break the silence, everyone in the plane following her gaze to land on Raven. “That day in DC, were you scared?”

“No,” Raven replied, looking away from her. She paused for a long time, the awkwardness in the room growing. “But I was scared on my first mission. I was on a plane like this with my friends, about your age. We called ourselves the X-men. Your brother was there,” she leaned forward, looking to Scott. “We used to call him Havoc. He was a real handful, but when it came down to it he was very brave.”

“What happened to the rest of the kids who went with you? The X-men?” Kurt piped up.

Raven stopped for a moment, avoiding eye contact with the boy. “Hank and I are the only ones left. I couldn’t save the rest of them. I told you, I’m not a hero.”

“Well, you’re a hero to us,” Jean said, turning to her. “Seeing you that day on TV changed my life.”

“Mine too,” Kurt added.

“Mine too.” You jumped in.

“Mine too.” Peter was the last to speak, and of course, he wasn’t done there. “I mean I still live in my mom’s basement but, you know… everything else is uh, well it’s pretty much the same.” He joked, turning to you with a smile that you returned. “I’m a total loser.” He finished, making the plane of people laugh. He was always good at making people laugh.

The tension was only lifted for a few moments, however, because soon turbulence began to shake the plane lightly. You leaned forward, glancing out the window to see pyramids with debris floating around them in half circles.

“Seventh wonder, twelve o'clock,” Hank muttered dryly.

Raven jumped up, standing between Moira and Hank. You glanced from her to Jean, who was staring intently at nothing.

“He has the professor in the center of the pyramid. He’s going to transfer his consciousness into the professor. If he does that, he’ll have the power to control every mind in the world.”

“Shit.” You whispered, anxiety building in your chest. Peter looked at you before turning back to the chaos outside, his hand finding yours as if it was second nature to him. To both of you.

“What the hell is that?” Moira asked, making you stand up to get a better view.

It was like a ball of debris, more concentrated than the ones around the pyramids. It looked like…

A magnetic field.

“It’s Erik,” Raven confirmed your suspicion.

In an instant, Peter was on his feet, leaning against you and staring down where Erik was.

“You guys help Nightcrawler get into the pyramid. Get Charles, I’ll take care of Erik.” Raven ordered, barely looking to the rest of you before focusing back on Erik.

“How are you gonna get through that?” Hank asked.

“I can get you in there.” Peter stood straighter, looking to Raven. “I came here for him, let me help you.”

She nodded before turning to the rest of you once more. “The rest of you, get Charles on this plane and get him out of here.”

“We’re not leaving without you!” Kurt protested.

“Don’t worry,” Peter looks to Kurt in reassurance. “We’ll catch up.”

“Hold on,” Hank warned, making you grab onto the back of Hank’s chair with Peter grabbing onto you.

Hank landed the plane, dropping you just off to the side of all the chaos happening. You all filed out one by one, Raven and Peter walking ahead of the group.

“Hank, Y/N, you go with the kids. Moira will be waiting on the plane.” It was interesting watching Raven easily falling into a leadership role, especially without Charles around. She always seemed to know what she was doing.

“Wait.” Scott stopped, making the rest of the group turn to him.

“What?”

“Not all of us can control our powers.” Suddenly, you remembered your gloves. You had left them at the mansion when it got destroyed, and you didn’t even realize how well you’d been managing without them.

“Then don’t.” Raven’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “You need to embrace them. We all do.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Raven showing off her true form, giving a small wave to Peter before he sped off with her.

Hank gave you a look in regards to your affection towards Peter, before motioning for the group to follow him. You did as such, keeping low just in case someone might see the five of you sneaking around. You ran through the rubble, dust clouding around you.

“There’s an entrance, it’s clear,” Hank said, stopping behind a section of a fallen building.

You glanced up just in time to notice the winged mutant that was with Erik when he took Charles soaring down upon the group. Everyone else looked up too, making you all back up to some extent.

“Kurt! Get in there!” Hank ordered, nodding when Kurt disappeared.

The winged mutant shot metal feathers towards you, only stopped when Jean used her powers to create a makeshift shield out of the rubble. He didn’t stay long, choosing instead to follow Kurt into the pyramid.

“In the pyramid. Move!” You ran in front, eyes darting all around you in case of traps or other mutants protecting the pyramid. Hank stayed in the back, making sure everyone got in safely. “Go!”

Lightning sparked violently to the ground, making you jump back. Within seconds, another mutant from earlier today landed in front of you. Her eyes were white, the same color as her hair, and blue electricity crawled up her arms and around her suit.

Fuck.

She walked towards you, the wind picking up until a car was raised into the air. You barely got to the ground in time, seeing it whir over your head.

You heard Hank roar behind you, attempting to use his strength to stop the car. Scott ripped his glasses off, beams of energy shooting towards the girl. When you glanced back, you saw Hank launch the car towards her.

You shot a wave of fire above you, enveloping the car as it launched towards the girl.

Before you could admire your teamwork, a purple laser sliced through the middle of the car, separating it and the flames as a third mutant jumped through the gap.

“Split them up.” She said, making you cast a nervous look to Hank.

The first girl rose from her spot, lightning shooting towards all of you. You jumped back, scrambling to get behind cover. Running into a half-collapsed building, you ducked to avoid the lightning.

As you struggled to catch your breath, you saw the girl with the purple blades wrapping a kinetic rope around Hank’s neck.

You stumbled back outside just as she yanks the rope, throwing him through a wall. She began pulling him towards her, choking him out in the process.

Gathering as much control as you could, you shot a ball of fire her way, knocking her off her feet and giving Hank the chance to slip out of her grasp. He jumped up, flipping off the ground and kicking her once before grabbing her by the throat and throwing her up to the top of a building.

“Thanks.” He spoke once you caught up to him, standing at his side.

Once Hank headed for the top of the building, you turned your focus back to the original girl. She and Scott were in a showdown, his beams of energy against her lightning.

Just as you started heading over to help Scott, Kurt jumped in and grabbed you. In an instant, you were back on the plane with Jean, Moira, and the professor. It was a different feeling than when you’d be taken places by Peter, less nauseating.

It didn’t take long for Kurt to get everyone on board, Hank climbing into the pilot’s seat.

“Let’s go.” The plane began rising off the ground. You had to force the worry away, trusting that Peter would get back in time. “Locked on.”

“Here we go,” Moira said.

It didn’t take long, however, for a thudding to be heard on top of the plane. Shit.

“What the hell was that?” Moira looked back at the rest of the plane, the fear in her eyes only growing when a purple blade sliced through the ceiling. She turned back to the controls, trying to help in any way.

“Kurt.” Jean’s voice rang out, looking up from her spot beside the professor. “Everyone, grab a hold of Nightcrawler!”

You did as told, dropping to your knees with him and grabbing his wrist.

“I’ve never done it with this many people!” Despite his worry, he prepared for teleportation.

Before he could get you all out of there, however, the winged mutant broke through the ceiling, dropping down into the plane. In an instant, the plane was soaring to the ground at a terrifying speed. While Kurt continued to struggle, you watched the winged mutant for any surprise attacks.

“Kurt hurry!” Jean urged. “Kurt!”

The winged mutant managed to regain his balance, taking aim towards you again.

“Kurt!” Your voice was laced with worry, leaning away from the mutant’s gaze as he took charge towards you.

In a blink, you were safe. Kurt brought you all to a room that was relatively intact, considering everything. When you glanced at him, he was already out cold, overworked.

“Is he okay?” Scott asked, leaning over him.

“It’s his energy, he’s drained,” Jean replied as Hank moved over to check for a pulse.

“Get out.” You heard Charles mumble. “Get out!” He began thrashing around from his spot on the floor, Jean immediately going to him.

“Professor it’s okay, you’re with us.” He opened his eyes, disoriented. “It’s okay,” Jean repeated, her voice soothing.

Once he got a sense of his surroundings, he kept to one of the corners of the room, leaning up against the wall. You and Jean brought Kurt over near him, setting up a bed for him to rest on.

Hearing someone outside calling Charles’ name, you froze. Hank stopped what he was doing, turning in the direction of the voice. It was the mutant from earlier, the one leading all the others.

“Show yourself! Charles!” He yelled, Hank standing in preparation for a fight. You backed up towards the wall next to Charles, keeping a safe distance away from the windows in case you could be seen.

The yelling stopped for a while, the tension growing in the air as everyone waiting for the mutant’s next move. You and Hank exchanged worried looks, Jean and Scott standing off as if forming a human barrier to protect the professor.

“Peter.” He spoke quietly, making you snap to him.

“What?” You asked, dropping to the ground to be eye level with Charles. “Peter?”

He didn’t answer, lost in his own head watching something you couldn’t see.

“Raven,” when he spoke again, everyone turned.

“I’m going out there.” Hank decided, turning towards the door.

“I’m going with you,” Scott added.

You said nothing, simply standing from your spot before the professor weakly grabbed onto you.

“No.” He struggled to stand, using you as support. “It’s me he wants.”

“Charles, you can’t give yourself up,” Moira argued. “He has you, he has us all. The whole world.”

“Charles! Come! Rescue your weaklings! Give your life for theirs!” When the mutant called out again, you turned to see Charles crying.

“No.” He shook his head, voice breaking. Suddenly, he sat up, coming to a decision before he froze. “He was right. There is still some part of me connected to him. I can get inside his head.” He laid back down, finally confident. “Thank you for letting me in.”

His eyes closed, and you knew he was gone to deal with the mutant. Taking the opportunity, you ran to the window, craning your neck to see what had happened to Peter. Before you could, you heard Charles struggling.

Jean ran over to him, checking to see if he was alright when the wall in front of you turned to dust. As it floated away in the wind, you saw the mutant staring up at you. Peter was crouched by his side, his leg trapped in the ground. You backed up, feeling all too exposed. As you did, the mutant walked towards you. It was slow, menacing, and the way he looked up at the house you were in gave you chills.

A steel beam fell past the house, lodging itself into the ground. You jumped, brows furrowing at the object.

Erik?

A second one came down just as quick, forming an X in front of the mutant whose movement was swiftly blocked.

Magneto flew down, hovering above the fight as the debris around him fell back to the ground.

“You betray me?” The mutant’s voice was filled with disgust.

“No.” He answered simply. “I betrayed them.”

The debris flew up once more, shooting towards the mutant. A shield formed around him, protecting him from Erik’s attack.

You glanced to the side, seeing Peter too close for comfort to the debris and the fire that circled the force field the mutant created. Without another moment wasted, you spun around towards the stairwell behind you and ran. You heard Hank say something to Scott as you were heading down, but you paid him no mind. You had to make sure Peter would be okay.

By the time you got to him, Hank was grabbing Raven and getting her to safety. Peter looked up at you, hand instantly finding yours for support. You held onto him, using your free hand to concentrate your powers around the ground entangling his foot. Once you had managed to burn enough of it away, you pulled him free, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulder. He groaned in pain, making your heart sting.

“I got you, don’t worry.” You reassured, following where Hank ran off to, keeping Peter as protected as you could on the way there.

Behind you, Scott was trying to help Erik in his attacks on the mutant. The chaos felt like so much, and yet it wasn’t even putting a dent in him.

Finally, you set Peter down next to Raven, muttering reassurances under your breath that you weren’t sure if it was more to comfort Peter or yourself. Hank, after making sure Raven would be alright, ran off to join the fight as well.

“You’re gonna be fine.” You smiled, crouched down in front of him. He nodded weakly, leaning his head back on the section of the wall that was behind him.

When you stood to follow Hank, his hand caught your wrist, pulling you back down. His other hand came up, cupping your cheek gently as his lips connected with yours. Your eyes widened, before fluttering closed, leaning into the kiss. You reached forwards, one hand resting on his neck, the other finding his hair. For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

Still, you pulled away, a wide smile on your face.

“Go.” He encouraged, smiling tiredly.

“I’ll be back for you.” You pointed, standing and backing away from the boy.

“I know.” He muttered, watching you run off to join your friends.

The painful realization was that you were losing. All of you. By the time you rejoined the fight, Hank was unconscious and Scott was stuck, ground tangling him into the wall.

Despite the circumstances, you let your powers loose, fire raging around him until he turned in your direction.

It only took one swift movement, and you were sent flying backwards in the air, painfully slamming against a wall. You fell to the ground, too weak to move as you watched him. It was a helpless feeling, watching him wave off every attack you all threw at him.

Until Jean stepped in.

She unleashed her power, burning away his armor and the force field that protected him.

It gave way for an opportunity, a way to fight back.

To win.

Hank stood up, rushing over to Scott to break him out of the wall, before running over to you.

“You alright?” He asked, helping you onto your feet. You nodded, ignoring the ringing pain in your head.

“This is it.” You exclaimed, making your way over to Scott as you conjured up as much power as you could.

The combined attacks were finally hitting, metal slicing through him as he was burned by not only Scott’s beams of energy, but your flames.

You didn’t stop when the force field came back up, trying to force the fire past it.

“He’s getting away,” Hank said, nearly defeated.

Just as you began to give up hope, lightning strikes came down on him from above. The force field melted away, along with the mutant that had terrorized you and your friends.

“All is revealed.” As he spoke his final words, Jean’s power grew, and you watched him crumble into nothing.

You stood there in the silence, relishing in the fact that you were all okay, all alive. Everyone settled, finding their own places; Hank took Scott back up to the professor, letting you go to Peter.

“Hey,” He perked up at your voice, grinning.

“Nice one.”

You shrugged, taking a seat next to him. “It was mostly Jean.”

“Still, that was one hell of a fight.” He leaned back, wincing in pain slightly. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Footsteps made your eyes snap back open, relaxing when you saw Erik. For a moment you wondered if he was here for Peter, but his gaze was focused solely on Raven. You exchanged looks with Peter, having a silent conversation.

You knew, in his own time, he would tell Erik who he was to him.

  -

  When the school was being rebuilt, you stood next to Peter, watching Jean and Erik work their magic. You hadn’t even noticed Ororo – as you found out her name was – approach until she began to speak.

“Mystique told me he is your father.” She said, looking to Peter. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“I might,” he avoided her eyes, choosing to look up at Erik instead. “One day.” He turned to you, hand grabbing yours gently as his gaze softened. “I think for now I’m just gonna stick around here for a while.”

[hopelikethemoon]

Old Parr (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: old parr  Rating: PG-13 Length: 2100 Warnings: Angst (jealousy, mostly) Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in June 1989. Javier POV. Summary: Javier grapples with his emotions. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501@fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @just-add-butter@snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper​ @awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie

Steve stopped in front of Javier’s desk with his arms folded across his chest and cleared his throat. 

“What?”

“Fair warning,” Steve started. “She’s in a bad mood this morning.”

Javier anticipated seeing Messina stroll around the corner at any second, but instead he saw her sweep into the office like a bat out of hell. She wasn’t exactly a morning person — but she was typically in better spirits than this. 

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?” Javier questioned and Steve shot him a scolding look. 

“I’m not in the mood, Peña.” She groused as she sank down into her office chair, leaning forward to rest her forehead against her arms on the desk. 

Javier looked towards Steve briefly, before he looked back to her with furrowed brows. “You okay?” 

She sat up, sighing heavily. “I broke up with Lance.”

“Really? I’m sorry to hear that.” His enthusiasm was barely contained and she seized on it.

“Oh, fuck off Javier.” Her gaze flashed between both of them. “I know you both hated him.”

“Hate is a strong word—“ Steve started. 

“I mean, I hated him.” 

Steve shot Javier another look, but he just shrugged in response. 

“If you broke up with him, why the sour mood?” Javier questioned, a brow arching upwards. 

“I know you’re unfamiliar with the art of being in a relationship Peña,” She shot back. “But breaking up with someone fucking blows. Especially when they clearly care for you.”

Steve chuckled, “Javier’s modus operandi is leaving ladies at the altar.”

Javier flipped him off, turning his attention back to her. “What happened?”

She dragged her fingers through her hair and stared at him as she sank back in her chair. “He wanted me to go back to the states with him.”

“The fuck?”

“Yeah.” She chewed on her bottom lip, looking towards the clock on the wall. “Is breakfast beer a thing?”

Javier snorted and kicked at the bottom draw of his desk. “I’ve got a bottle of Old Parr.” 

Her eyes lit up and Javier hated how quickly his heart jumped to life at her expression. “I think the three of us need to visit the record room.”

“I’m not getting involved in this.” Steve drew a line in the air between them. “Nope.”

“You’re gonna play lookout.” Javier told him, grabbing the bottle out of his bottom draw and tucking it under his arm beneath his leather jacket. “Come on.”

Steve glared at him, “You’re both terrible influences. It’s not even ten o’clock.”

“It’s cathartic.” Javier insisted, following behind her down the hallway. 

“What Javi said.” She led them around the corner, through the stairwell door, and down two flights to where the record room was. 

“Morning Janice.” Steve said smoothly to the older woman sitting at the desk. “Need to pull some records on the expats from last week.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Murphy.” Janice answered, before turning her attention back to her typewriter. 

Javier followed her deeper into the record room, where there was less of a chance of being caught drinking whisky during the workday. 

“Just get it over with.” Steve huffed, glaring at both of them. 

“Are you really not going to partake, Murph?” She questioned, reaching into Javier’s jacket to pull the bottle out. She brandished, grinning broadly. “Come on.” 

Javier couldn’t help the way he stared at her, but he was quick to turn his attention to the bottle of liquor instead. “I propose a toast.”

“To what? Kicking the CIA out of my bed?” She questioned, twisting the top off the bottle. She took a quick sip, before coughing. “Shit, that’s strong.”

 “I thought you had game.”

“Fuck off, Javier.”

“Time is of the essence.” Steve reminded them. 

Javier took the bottle from her and took a swig. “To staying in Colombia and catching Pablo Escobar.”

She smiled at him, “To staying where I belong.” 

Javier felt his breath catch somewhere in the back of his throat. Shit. 

“Give me the bottle.” Steve held his hand out and she took the bottle from Javier, taking another drink before passing it off. “Jesus Christ, Javi. Where’d you find this stuff?”

“You’re both weak.” Javier shook his head. “So how did Lance take the break up?”

“Oh, he wanted to stay friends. It was painfully cordial.” She shuddered. 

“He wanted to stay friends?” Javier scoffed. “He probably just thought that was his way back into your bed.”

She sighed heavily. “I wouldn’t be as frustrated if that were the case. I think he genuinely wants to stay friends.” She grabbed the bottle from Murphy, taking another drink. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Need company?” Javier questioned, leaning back against the file cabinet casually. 

“I thought you had plans tonight.” Steve reminded him. 

“They’re floating.” He bit back.

She laughed. “Aw, Javi. You’d shirk DEA business for me?”

“Can’t let you rebound with just anyone. Now can I?” Javi countered, taking another shot before screwing the lid back on. “The brothel will still be there tomorrow.” Unfortunately. 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I’ll see if Connie doesn’t mind. I’m keen to see how this goes.”

She took the bottle from him and took another swig, looking between the two of them. 

It was probably wise to have Steve there. The last thing Javier wanted to do was to make a serious mistake. She was clearly torn up about Lance. And he wasn’t about to let her rebound be him.

Not that he’d even considered it. 

“Are you finding what you’re looking for?” Janice called back to them. 

“Yeah!” She shouted back, quickly screwing the lid back on. She invaded Javier’s personal space, pulling his jacket out so she could tuck the bottle back under his arm. “Thank you.” She whispered, lingering as she tilted her head to look up at him.

“Any time.” He breathed out, hyper-aware of just how close she was to him. God damn. Javier hesitantly let his hand rest at her hip, giving it the briefest squeeze before he turned around and pulled the filing cabinet open. 

Steve’s brows rose upwards as he stared at him. “It’s Joplin. In case you forgot.”

“I know the fucking last name.” Javier ground out. His head might be swimming with several not work appropriate thoughts currently, but he remembered the damn expat’s name. He snatched the file out of the cabinet, not that they even needed it. 

It was just a ruse to make her feel better. 

 ———

 Javier brought the beer bottle to his lips as he watched her across the bar. She had abandoned the booth half an hour ago, choosing to go it alone at the bar in an attempt to lure in the lucky bastard that got to go home with her. He tried not to watch. But he failed. Every time she tossed her hair over her shoulders, his gaze flickered towards her. Every time he caught the sound of her laugh over the buzz of the bar — he turned his attention on her. 

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Javi.” Steve drawled out, his brows rising upwards as Javier turned back to stare at him. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Just making sure she doesn’t go home with someone from the Medellin cartel.” He answered dryly, taking another swig of beer. “Don’t give me that look. I know she can handle her own.” 

“Well, she’s not going to find anyone with you staring them down.” Steve rolled his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “Ease up Javi. She knows what she’s doing.” 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, “Yeah.” He sat the beer bottle back down on the table, rolling it between his fingers as his gaze flickered towards the bar. She must’ve sensed his eyes on her because she turned back and smiled at him. “I need a smoke.”

He slid out of the booth, pulling the pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He walked across the bar and shouldered the door open as he pulled one out and gripped it between his lips. He could’ve just sat in there and smoked, but he needed some fucking air. 

Lighting the cigarette, he took a drag and sank back against the building, watching cars as they drove by. 

It was bullshit that he cared as much as he did. He tried not to. He really did. But sometimes the littlest things set him off. The way she’d smile at him. The casual ways she’d touch him. Nothing had changed — she was still exactly how she’d always been. But he’d stupidly gone and decided he cared about her… more than a coworker ought to care about someone they work with.

“Hey,” Her voice cut through his thoughts and he coughed on the next exhale. “Sorry!”

“Shit. Announce yourself, woman.” He laughed, turning to look at her. “What’s up?”

“I bought us shots.” She smiled, holding two shot glasses out in front of her. “Steve’s reading a book, by the way. Did we force him to come tonight?”

Javier shrugged a shoulder, reaching for one of the shot glasses. “I think he’s babysitting us.” 

She laughed softly, “We do always manage to get into trouble.”

Javier watched as she plucked the cigarette out from between his lips and took a drag from it. “Did you ask?” 

“Fuck off.” She countered with a roll of her eyes, leaning back against the wall beside him. “There’s two government contractors drinking in there. One seems like a possibility. He’s only here for a week… So.” 

“So he won’t be trying to convince you to go back to the states with him?” Javier teased lightly, taking his cigarette back. “What are the shots for?”

“To thank you.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. “I appreciated the distraction this morning. You’re good at the little things. You might actually have a heart after all, Peña.”

“Don’t let Steve find out.” Javier answered in a conspiratorial whisper. 

She held up her shot glass, eyes meeting his. “To the little things.” 

He hoped the shot would numb the ache he felt in his chest. Javier knew he had to shake this… whatever it was. He worked with her every goddamn day and he couldn’t. He had to box up that feeling and put it out of reach. He respected her too fucking much to go down this path. He’d treaded similar paths before and he knew how they ended. 

“What’s his name?”

She rubbed her lips together thoughtfully. “Hank. No.. Henry.” Her nose scrunched. “Hector? Harris?” She shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think it really matters. He didn’t exactly ask for mine.” 

He took another drag of his cigarette before passing it to her. “I’d say be careful, but…” 

“Yeah.” She brandished her fist as she took the cigarette from him, inhaling deeply. “You know… I thought you’d crow a bit more about Lance.”

“I’m waiting until you’re completely over him.” Javier admitted, looking away then. “I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.” 

“I appreciate that.” She passed the cigarette back, pushing away from the wall. “Lance was a really good guy, but he… wasn’t it. You know? The one.”

“Can’t say that I do.” 

She glanced down at her feet. “Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.” 

Javier took one last drag from the cigarette before putting it out on the wall behind him. “Have fun. You deserve it.” 

“Are you coming back in?”

“Just to tell Murphy I’m hitting the road.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, before moving towards the door to hold it open for her. She dipped under his arm, flashing him a faint smile before they parted ways. 

He watched her as he headed back towards the booth, eyes following her as she went back to the bar to the guys she had been hanging out with. The lucky bastard seemed thrilled to have her return to him. But Javi knew he didn’t realize just how lucky he was. What he wouldn’t give...

“I’m out.” He told Steve, knocking his knuckles against the edge of the table as he turned his attention back to his friend. “She’s good.” 

Steve tucked his book back into his pocket and down the last swig of beer in his bottle. “Thank God.” He muttered, sliding out of the booth. Murphy glanced at the bar and laughed, “I can’t believe there’s two of you out here with that same stupid fucking mustache.” 

“Fuck off, Murphy.” Javier gritted out, resisting the urge to look back towards the bar. He had to let this go. Whatever it was. He couldn’t keep beating himself up over something that was never going to happen. 

She deserved better. 

Javier glanced at his watch as he followed Steve out of the bar. It wasn’t that late. His informant was probably still up. Maybe that could get her off his mind. 

[stunt-lads]

Ecks.... ecks ecks ecks. Tell me about werewolf!richie and vampire!eddie sex. 👀👀👀

The first time it happens is a few weeks after the...incident. 

It’s not Eddie’s fault he can’t stop thinking about the way Richie said it. “You smell like you’re mine.” It wasn’t embarrassment lacing his tone that night. It was reverence. A vulnerability. Like it meant something intimate to Richie.

Eddie...doesn’t know a lot about werewolf hierarchy, he knows they have packs and that’s about it, but he knows he hasn’t stopped thinking about Richie more or less claiming him since that night. 

He needs to talk to someone, convince him not to fucking do what he’s thinking about doing. He approaches Stan. Stan’s level headed, will knock some sense into him. 

“So,” Stan says, after Eddie explains everything, even the...marking, “You came to me to ask for my blessing or?” 

Eddie groans, slamming his head down on the table and hearing the wood groan dangerously under him.

“No, I came here to have you convince me not to do this.” 

“Why the fuck would I do that?” And Stan sounds so affronted Eddie picks his head up and looks at him.

“Because he’s a werewolf?” Eddie says it slow, wondering how Stan doesn’t get it. 

“Eddie, in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t adhere to the rules of the Council.” Stan says like Eddie’s an idiot, and really, maybe he is, “If you want to fuck that werewolf who pissed on you then do it.” Eddie squawks indignantly at the piss comment, “We’re immortal creatures, we should be allowed to have fun. Fuck what the Council dictates for us.” 

Well. 

Stan’s no help. 

But he does make a valid point, so Eddie bites the bullet and decides to go for it. If Richie’s into it then sweet, maybe he’ll get dicked down, if not then he tried and he’ll go find a human to get mediocre sex from before feeding and getting drunk. 

Either way it sounds like a good night.

He finds Richie’s apartment easily enough, there’s a strong odor of wolf that has him wrinkling his nose a little, but it’s to be expected with three of them living in close proximity to each other. 

He knocks firmly, hoping they won’t make him wait too long. He feels overdressed in his deep navy suit and he’s already gotten several Looks from people on the street. 

Right now he’s getting eyed up by a human who’s eyes are full of a hunger Eddie’s never even seen on the nastiest vampire. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Richie answering the door. His hair is a disheveled mess and he’s in sweatpants and a stained tshirt. Still, when he sees him and registers who he is, he smiles broadly. 

“Eddie Spaghetti!” His smile falters when he sees the way Eddie is actively turned away from the street, keeping his body close to the doorway and in the shadows it casts. Almost immediately his eyes snap to the human who’s been staring at Eddie and go hard, steely, possessive. Eddie feels a shiver go down his spine. 

“Why don’t you come inside.” It’s not a request and Eddie’s legs go weak. But he obeys, walking in like he’s not about to collapse onto the floor from arousal at any second. 

Richie shoots a glare at the human across the street and closes the door hard behind them, but then he’s cheerful again, eager and excitable like he was before. Like when he first saw Eddie was there. 

He had a plan, was going to woo Richie a little, treat him to a nice dinner maybe, but those thoughts go out the window when he’s assaulted by his scent inside the apartment. Richie’s talking animatedly, showing Eddie the place and not once letting his smile falter. 

Eddie has retained nothing. It’s a buzz of noise in the background as he watches the way Richie gestures wildly with his hands. 

“Are your roommates home?” He blurts out and Richie pauses, actually freezes mid gesture.  “No. Bill had a book signing thing and I think Ben went out with—” He cuts him off with a kiss, wasting no time in pulling his face down to meet him and Richie is shocked enough that he freezes for a moment, eyes wide and confused before he snaps to attention and growls softly in his chest. A deep sound that has Eddie moaning in the kiss. 

It takes very little time to get to Richie’s room. 

Eddie loses his jacket and tie somewhere along the way, and when he’s pushed to the bed he hears tearing fabric and the soft sounds of button’s popping off and flying into the wall. He moans and shivers, body tense at the display of power. 

“Mine.” Richie growls, eyes glowing yellow with the threat of transformation, his wolf is as much into this as he is, staking claim over Eddie with bites and scratches. 

“Fuck, Richie, c’mon fuck me.” He tangles his fingers in Richie’s hair and pulls him close, purring into his ear, “Show me I’m yours.” 

It was a gamble but it pays off. Richie snarls, roughly turning him over onto all fours and Eddie rolls his eyes.  “Really? Doggy-style? A bit on the nose isn’t it?” He snarks out but Richie simply huffs against his back, ripping the material of his shirt from his body and exposing him to the cool air of the apartment and Richie’s hot breath against his back.

The preparation is probably a little less thorough than Eddie would’ve liked but he and Richie have been dancing around this for weeks and they’re both a bit desperate. So when he pulls out his fingers, Eddie’s pants only down around his thighs, giving Richie access without him removing them completely, and he feels his cock in their place he knows it’s gonna hurt. Richie is fucking big.

Eddie doesn’t know if it’s the wolf in him or just his natural dick but the stretch is a lot. 

When he bottoms out inside him Eddie breathes heavily, expecting Richie to set a hard pace immediately. He’s pleasantly surprised when he pauses, panting softly and pressing open mouthed kisses to his back and shoulders. 

Eddie’s completely enamored. 

“Alright, big guy,” Eddie says finally, body adjusted enough and impatience getting to him, “Fuck me up.” 

“Fuck, Eds I’m—The wolf—bites? Are bites okay?” Richie whimpers before he starts moving, Eddie can feel the tension in his body the way Richie is shaking and trying so hard not to give into his baser instincts. 

“Fuck, yes Richie, please just fucking move.” Eddie is not above begging, but he’d really rather not. Thankfully the answer seems enough for Richie and the pace he sets is fast and brutal. His hands grip Eddie’s hips tight enough that, were he human, they'd likely break a bone or crush his pelvis.

Eddie feels his nails elongate just a little as Richie fucks him, and Eddie moans, low and deep at the feeling of his nails digging into him. He doesn’t think Richie will fully transform for this but he’s filing it away as an idea for the future. 

The first bite is hesitant, a barely there press of teeth on skin where his shoulder meets his neck. Eddie would huff in frustration if he could, instead he snaps out a broken, “Bite me properly or don’t put your mouth on me.” where his voice shakes and cracks and it takes away from the heat of the sentiment. 

But Richie responds with a deep growl, a sound Eddie feels more than he hears and the next bite breaks skin. He can feel the tear of his flesh and his arms give out. He groans, body shaking as he’s pushed violently close to the edge of orgasm. Richie’s grip on his hips is the only thing keeping him up. 

“Richie,” His voice is broken already, he’d be embarrassed but he can’t feel anything but heat. He’s run cold since his turn but now he feels like he’s walking on the sun. Warmth is consuming him and he even feels sweat pooling in the small of his back as Richie pounds relentlessly into him. 

“Mine,” Richie growls again but it sounds so far from a voice that Eddie wonders, if he turned to look, whether Richie would be more wolf than human at this point. The thought sends a rush through him that intensifies when Richie shifts just enough that each push in has him grinding against Eddie’s prostate, making him see stars as his vision goes white at the edges. 

“Fuck, yeah, yours, shit,” He’s not...sure what he’s saying now but Richie seems to like it, his breathing is heavy against Eddie’s shoulder.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s come untouched, but it’s the first time in a long time. 

Eddie isn’t sure what finally pushes him over, but he thinks it might be the feel of Richie’s knot stretching and sinking into him over and over until it’s too big and all Richie can do is grind against him as he comes inside him. He thinks he maybe passes out for a moment because when he’s aware again Richie has them laying side by side, his cock still inside him as he kisses at the bite marks he’s left littering his back and shoulders. His fingers don’t feel as sharp now, as he rubs his thumbs gently along Eddie’s bruised hips. 

“So, that was something.” Eddie says, voice hoarse and Richie huffs a laugh. 

“Yeah.” He hums in agreement and then Richie shows a tenderness that has Eddie’s chest aching a little as he kisses at the nape of his neck. Eddie can do fucks. He can do sex so easily and readily. But the softness makes him wary, he’s afraid. Instead of thinking too hard about that he inhales deeply, unnecessary but a habit that’s been hard to break, and speaks lowly.

“How long are we...?” He gestures vaguely in the direction of Richie’s dick.

“Like...20 minutes? I could pull out now but,” He shifts his hips back and the pull of the knot makes Eddie moan, a needy sound that Richie pauses at before he clears his throat before continuing, voice a bit more strained, “But it’s not comfortable.”

Eddie pauses, like he’s considering it. Then he smirks a little to himself as he speaks, voice light.

“No, leave it in. It’ll make round two easier.” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” Richie whines against his neck and Eddie laughs. 

[samcrobae]

Nanny, Part 10

Gif Credit: @blackmoonrising

Warnings: mentions of substance use, abuse and overdose. Read with caution or just skip if this is not something you are comfortable reading.

I didn’t proof read all the way because I can hardly keep my eyes open

If I missed you in the tag list please let me know!

Thank y’all so much for all of the positive feedback on this, my heart is seriously so thankful! ❤️❤️

————————————-

Angel stared at the packet in front of him, sitting across from EZ at his fathers kitchen table. “Nah I don’t believe that, this can’t be right.” He slams the file shut and stares at EZ. “Drugs? Elena? No.”

“You read it for yourself Angel. It doesn’t say who she was involved with or how she got involved but look. She was arrested not long after she left. Then again a few months later. He pulled her bank statements and she deposited a lot of money Angel. Then a year later she took it all out. And look. Hospital records. She was there for an intentional overdose.”

“Yeah but who was she getting this shit from? Where did she get the money? Was she running from something?” Angel couldn’t wrap his head around the idea.

“Or someone.” Felipe added. “That could explain why she left the way she did. Didn’t want to put Natalie in any danger.”

“I gotta find her and talk to her myself. If this junkie thinks ima let her come near my kid she got me fucked up. Y/N can’t find out about this. Not yet. She’ll lose her mind. Bad enough she ain’t sleeping. With Nico up all night anyway she’s stressed out.

——————————————-

You had just put Natalie and Nico down for the night and had about 3 hours before he was up again to nurse. You were loading up the dishwasher for the night when you heard Angels bike pull into the driveway.

He kicked off his boots and hung his kutte by the door and made his way into the kitchen to greet you. “How was your day mami?” He kisses your cheek and pulls you in by your waist, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Long. All Nico wants is to be on the boob all day, I can’t keep up. Natalie has so much energy, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be sore from running around with her tomorrow. I just wanna get in the shower and sleep.”

Angel turned you around so that your back was to him and he rubbed your shoulders, “then let’s go take a shower. I had a day too. Shit with Elena-"

“Angel can we not talk about her tonight? I’m just so tired.” You walk away and head into the bathroom to turn the water on. You strip down and toss your clothes into the hamper, Angel doing the same before you both step in. You let the hot water run over your neck and shoulders, washing the days chaos away. Angel brings his hands up and wraps them around your waist hugging you tight against your chest.

“I love you Y/N.” He peppers your neck and shoulders with quick and delicate kisses and you let your head fall back against him. “The doctor said we can have sex again... let me help you relax baby, yeah?” He brings his hands up over your breasts and squeezes them, taking care not to squeeze too hard since you are breastfeeding and one wrong touch and you’re leaking everywhere.

Your reach your hands back to touch the back of his head and give his hair a gentle tug, causing him to let out a low groan and he bit down on your neck. “Let’s go to the bed, we can shower when I’m done with you.” You step out of the tub and he leads you to the connected master bedroom and you lay down on your king sized bed.

He kneels in between you running his hands up your stomach and back to your breasts again, before taking a finger and running it along your core. You drove your hips forward begging for the attention you so desperately needed, “Angel don’t tease me.” He lowered his face closer to you and kissed, sucked, and bit your inner thighs then delivered one slow lick up your folds, making a gasp escape your lips. You had goosebumps and your legs were beginning to quiver each time he delivered another lick.

Wrapping his arm across your hips, he held you in place as he ate you out. Your hands gripping and pulling at the sheets as your back arched. He was good at so many things, but damn that man had a way with his tongue you never thought possible. He spread your lips and flicked his tongue along your clit, causing that familiar fire in your belly. Your thrust your hips up to meet his tongue and brought one hand to his head, instructing him to continue what he was doing.

“Oh my god.... baby.... yes....” you felt your orgasm rush through you, your vision fading momentarily and you chanted his name like a prayer. He lapped at your juices and came back up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips. He sat back on his knees and spread your legs and lined himself up with your entrance. “Look at you...look at that pretty pussy..” he rubbbed the Tip over your clit and you shuddered. “This what you want mami? You want daddy to give you this dick don’t you?”

“Yes..please Angel..”

He slipped himself inside you effortlessly, but was more gentle than he would have normally been since you hadn’t had sex since giving birth.

“You okay? Is this okay?” He asked as he slowly thrusted in and out of you.

You nodded your head yes, followed by, “baby, I need you. Faster please.” He sped up, you gripping his forearms. The only sounds filing the air was the sound of skin slapping skin and your muffled moans as you pushed your face into a pillow. He always made you feel like you could explode at any given second when he was inside you, and tonight was no different.

“Shit you fuck me so good, please keep going, pleaseee..." you were whining, begging at this point, but you were touch starved and sex deprived you didn’t care. “Angel I’m gonna cum ..."

“Cum mami, say my name..." he brought his thumb up and ran circles over your clit.

Your breathing was fast and heavy, barely able to form a sentence, “Angel— ang-" your mouth formed an O shape and you threw your head back into your pillows. Angel quickly followed, and laid down next to you.

“I love you mami.” He kisses your shoulder.

“And I love you baby.” You replied.

—————————————-

2 months had passed and Angel still had no other leads on Elena. No contact, he hasn’t seen her, heard from her, heard of her. He was out everyday with EZ trying to find something, anything that could possibly point to what had happened causing her to leave the way she did.

You hardly saw him, the club and him being out on runs or with EZ all the time had completely consumed him. You were exhausted and essentially raising two kids alone. You had stopped waiting up for him after about a month.some nights he’d come home and not speak to you or the kids. Other nights he’d come home, you’d have sex and that was it.

You were currently sitting in the doctors office as you had made an appointment to talk with her about getting back on birth control. Of course you and Angel wanted more kids but a lot had happened in the amount of time you had been together and Angel wasn’t in the right head space and had so much going on with the club.

“Well, we have options, but none of which we can explore today. You’re pregnant." Your doctor informed you.

You felt your heart sink. “Again? No that’s not possible.”

“Well, are you having sex?”

“Yes...”

“And are you using any form of protection?”

“Well no. But I’m breastfeeding , I read that i wouldn’t get pregnant...."

“Well that’s not a guarantee, either.” The doctor stated very matter of factly.

You got into your car and sobbed. You loved Angel. Natalie. Nico. Why were you so upset? Upsets not the word for it. Disappointed? How were you going to tell Angel? Did you even want to tell angel?

You pull into your driveway and see EZ and Coco’s bikes out front. Stepping into the living room Natalie ran to you “mommy! For dinner today can we have Chinese food? I love Chinese food”

Angel handed Nico over to you, “hey baby we missed you.” He grabbed his kutte and threw it on.

“Angel where are you going? I literally just walked through the door.”

“I know querida I know I’m sorry but shit with Elena is finally coming together"

“Oh Jesus Christ can we just stop talking about Elena?! Fuck Angel this shit has you completely tangled in something that doesn’t make sense. Between the club and Elena we never see you, we don’t even speak! Just fucking let it go." You groaned and head to the kitchen to look for the Chinese menu.

“Woah, let it go? What? Are you kidding me? All of this shit I’m doing , time I’m spending away from my family is so that I can get some answers and so you can lay your pretty head down at night and finally get some fuckin sleep. So you can stop being so god damn paranoid all day long. Shits fuckin exhausting to watch." He hollered. He had never raised his voice at you and you were caught off guard. You were still processing your pregnancy.

“Screw you Angel this is not the shit I signed up for! Being put 2nd to your club, to your junkie baby mama, oh yeah I know about that. Did you think I want gonna find out? You left her paperwork on the living room table. Were you even gonna tell me?”

EZ and Coco watched on as the two of you fought, EZ taking Natalie into his arms and outside, coco following behind them. Nico on your hip.

“Not the shit you signed up for? Are you serious right now? You were all about the shit back in San Francisco, all about the shit when you moved in with me, you were really with the shit when I put that diamond ring on your finger. Or did you forget?"

“Fuck. Why can’t you just be wrapped up and concerned with the 3 kids and fiancée you have now and not Elena and whatever is happening with the club?” You felt your eyes begin to water.

“Three kids?” His face contorted and stepped closer to you.

“I’m pregnant Angel. Again”.

———————————————————-

Tag List: @starrynite7114 @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @gemini0410 @ifoundmyhappythought @cind-in-real-life @scuzmunkie @iambabyharry @sadeyesgf @carlaangel86 @everyhowlmarksthedead @notsobuckybarnes @wrcn9fvlcver @elcococruz @jenny885 @general-tiny-mouse @loud-midget @danie1432 @strawberrywritings @justanothermonstah @whatdoyoumeme @thickemadame @jadert15 @yoooitssalexx @blackmissfrizzle @mheart27 @briana-mishell24 @that-chick212 @clayymarek

[ghostly-cabbage]

Frigid (Chapter 1)

Danny Phantom fanfic

Genre: Horror, Angst, Enemies to Friends

Fic Rating: M (Language, Underage Drug Use, Violence and Gore)

Summary: Wes and his brother Kyle have just moved to Amity Park. Wes is only worried about fitting in, but all the ghost nonsense is making that harder and harder. Something weird is going on in this place, and his chemistry lab partner is no different. Seriously, what the hell was up with the Fenton kid and why did everyone ignore it?

Danny is a junior in high school, and pressure is squeezing in on all sides. Keeping good enough grades to graduate, and dealing with the snoopy new kid wasn't bad enough, but he's starting to feel like his parents are getting closer to figuring out his secret. Jazz is off at college and he didn't realize just how helpful it was when she was home to cover for him.

Danny's been able to keep his secret at school for one reason, and that's that no one cares to watch him close enough to connect the dots. Wes is different.

AO3   FFN

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"The air is different here," Wes said, looking up at the swath of stars across the sky. Kyle exhaled a plume of smoke that clouded the view. 

"Shit. Don't get all poetic on me now." Kyle coughed his way into a laugh and Wes kicked his shin just hard enough to hurt. 

"Ow!" 

"Shut up dude, I mean it's colder here. More humid or something too." 

"Yeah, definitely nothing like home." Kyle swung his legs back and forth off the brow of the roof. "How was your first day of school btdubs?" He offered Wes the joint pinched between his fingers. Wes waved him off. 

"Thrilling, nothin' like being the new kid," he said.  

Kyle shrugged and took another hit.

“‘S not so bad, my day was chill,” he croaked out while trying to keep his breath held in. 

Wes scrunched his nose at the smell. “Jesus dude, that stuff smells worse than normal.” 

“Yeah—” he puffed out the cloud of smoke “—the shit here isn’t as good. Missin’ that green triangle right about now.” Kyle let out a wistful sigh. Wes almost wanted to ask how he’d found a dealer already, but it was Kyle. He always found someone. It was like his supernatural ability to sniff out someone who’d sell to minors.

 “Anyway, basketball tryouts are at the end of the week, right? Cheer up my man, you’ll get mad chicks once you make the team.” Wes shot him a glare. Getting chicks was the last thing on his mind. He was more preoccupied with the fact their dad uprooted their entire lives to move to fucking Illinois. Illinois!

“Whatever dude.” There was a brief silence, before Kyle bumped his shoulder into him. He took another deep drag off his joint, the static burn filling the air like white noise. The stars continued to glimmer coldly in the sky, and it sent a pang of homesickness through him. It was bullshit. 

“Any classes you like?” 

“Psh. Hardly… Well. There’s a photography class—” 

“Didn’t you mention something about chem at lunch?” 

“Oh. That.” Wes started to get angry just thinking about it. “Yeah. Chemistry two. Apparently we have to have a lab partner for the whole semester. Which wouldn't be a big deal but I got stuck paired with a dude that’s ‘banned for life’ from using the chem equipment.” He used his fingers for the air quotes. “So I’m probably gonna have to do everything.”

Kyle took a breath like he was about to say something, but Wes pressed on. “What the hell do you even have to do to get banned for life from using the chemistry stuff?” 

“Dude! Maybe your partner got busted for making drugs! That Breaking Bad kinda shit! That’d get him banned fer sure fer sure.” His words slurred around the edges.

Wes almost laughed. “You’re high Kyle. If you saw him you’d understand. This guy isn’t a drug lord, trust me, he’s a twig. No way he’d be involved in anything dangerous. If that guy does anything more exciting than video games I’d eat your hat.” 

Kyle gasped. “Brooo!” 

“What?”

“Somthin’ to eat sounds wicked. Wanna swing by that... Nasty place, what’zit called? We saw it on the way in.” 

Wes rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. 

“Nasty Burger?”

“Nasty Burger!”

“As a majority of you are aware, it’s a new school year, which means as per new school district regulation it’s time to report to the gym for the annual ghost safety course, and later today at an unspecified time there will be a ghost drill.” Mr. Lancer droned at the front of the class. The other students around Wes all groaned like they’d been assigned a pop quiz, rather than that being the most batshit crazy thing they’d ever heard. Uh, what the hell? He raised his hand. 

“Yes, Mr. Weston.” 

“Did... you just say ghost safety course?” Kids around him chuckled and shared knowing looks. It was like he was on the other side of an inside joke.   

“Regrettably so, Mr. Weston. Everyone single file to the gym please. Leave your bags here, you’ll be back before the third period,” Lancer said as he gestured to the door. Wes stayed sitting for a few seconds longer than the class, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. Ghosts? Like actual ghosts? 

“Hey, Fenturd, can’t wait to see how your parents fuck it up this year!” Wes turned towards the back of the classroom to see a tall broad shouldered guy, Dash if he remembered right, shoving past Danny Fenton, AKA his chem lab partner. Danny lurched to the side, stumbling into a desk. There were two other kids that Wes hadn’t seen before standing behind Danny, a goth girl and a dweeby kid in a beret.

“Bro, I still have the picture on my phone from when they couldn’t get Mr. Fenton out of that ghost netting,” said an equally massive asian guy. The small knot of kids around them all laughed and filed past Danny and his presumed friends. Danny was glaring daggers at the back of Dash’s head. 

So… Danny’s parents were the guest speakers, and they were giving a talk on... ghost safety… Seriously, did anything here make sense? Wes followed after the crowd, trying to wrap his head around it. The odd trio started following a few paces back.

“Great. Just what I need to kick off the year again,” Wes heard Danny grumble. 

“Oh come on Danny, It wasn’t that bad,” the goth girl said. 

“Nah, it was pretty bad.” 

“Tucker!” 

“What?!”  

Wes tried to continue listening to their conversation but the person in front of him turned around to look at him. 

“You’re the new kid right?” She asked. She had long blonde hair and perfect makeup. 

“Uh, yeah. Wes.” 

“I hear you’re trying out for the basketball team, right?” A few of the popular kids walking in front of her glanced over their shoulders to look at Wes.

“Y-yeah. I was point guard on my last team back home.” 

“I don’t know what that means.” She tossed a lock of hair behind her shoulder. Her eyes were burning into him like she was personally judging where he fit into the social caste system of the school.  “But good luck. I’m Star, by the way. My boyfriend’s on the football team so don’t get any ideas.”  

“Oh please Star, you’re like, totally out of his league, basketball team or not,” a new voice cut in from just in front of Star. Another girl with dark wavy hair turned to look at him. She had dark olive skin, almond eyes and thick eyelashes. “I’m Paulina, but I’m sure you’ve heard all about me already. People are kind of obsessed with me, they can’t help it.” She said it with a smile and a cute giggle to punctuate her sentences. He’d seen her in homeroom yesterday, and he knew right off the bat she was top of the hierarchy, her and Dash both seemed to have a pretty solid hold on their popularity. If he was going to survive here he needed to make sure they liked him, or at the very least had nothing bad to say about him. 

“I can see why, it’s nice to meet you,” he said. The two girls shared a look, shrugged and turned their attention away from him. 

He let go of the breath he’d been holding, feeling like he’d just passed some sort of test.  He’d never exactly been a popular kid. In elementary school he was small and easy to pick on. Unless Kyle was around, who had a nonchalant courage about him, even as a kid. It’d taken a lot of work for Wes to figure out how to fit in just under the radar of the big fish. 

He stepped into the bustling gym along with the rest of the Junior homeroom class. The bleachers were pulled out, and the class dispersed to find their place to sit. Wes bobbed his head over the shoulders of other students looking for Kyle. It took some work but eventually his eyes landed on his brother. He was lounging, taking up two seats worth of space on the far left side of the bleachers. He made a beeline for him, and took the stairs two at a time. The clamor of the student body filled the room, and when he sat down he had to speak over it. 

“Dude, can you believe this? A ghost assembly?” His brother had never been the most believing of the supernatural. But this place, openly acknowledging the presence of ghosts? He’d like to see Kyle try and refuse to believe now. 

“Yeah man! This school must really love Halloween.” 

And there it was. 

“Kyle. It’s September.” 

“And? Bro they got the Halloween decorations up at wally-world already, why not have a fun Halloween thing?” Wes frowned, and clicked his tongue. He propped his chin against his hand and watched as the school started to settle. His eyes wandered the rows until he found the goth girl. Danny and the kid she’d called Tucker were with her. They were sitting in the section over a row down. Danny had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his black NASA hoodie, and a pinched look on his face. He couldn’t exactly say he blamed the kid, the thought of his own dad showing up to give a presentation made him shiver in horror. 

They’d set up a stage in the center of the gym. Principal Ishiyama stepped up to the podium, and tapped the mic. 

“Hello students of Casper High! For incoming freshmen, allow me to officially extend a warm welcome, and to all returning students, welcome back!” She was way too chipper for the time of morning. “As many of you know we have to review some safety precautions. Now, this may not be new information but I expect you all to pay attention and be respectful regardless. With that, allow me to introduce local ghost experts: Jack and Maddie Fenton.” Ishiyama moved back, clapping for the guests. The crowd gave mixed reactions. Most people looked like they were only applauding out of awkwardness. Wes was definitely included in that category. 

A man and woman with brightly colored… jumpsuits? Hazmat suits? Whatever they were, came forward. The man was intimidating from the pure size of him alone. Jesus christ, he looked like a NFL linebacker. Next to him, was a slight and fit woman. She spoke first, standing at the podium. 

“Good morning everyone! My husband and I are honored to be welcomed back to run through the safety course with you kids!” Mrs. Fenton was peppy and direct with the way she spoke and the way she moved. “As of last year the manual ghost alarms were installed around the school.” Maddie motioned to the projector screen behind her that had been lowered from the ceiling. “As you can see here.” The picture on the projector showed huge red buttons ringed by yellow and black caution trim. Wes had seen them around before, but he’d figured they were for... tornados or something, they had those here right?

“If you see a ghost you are encouraged to press this button so that the school can evacuate and the correct professionals may be notified.” 

“By that she means us!” Mr. Fenton shouted, popping up in front of the projector. She moved on as if the interruption hadn’t even happened. 

“Whatever you do, do not engage with a ghost. Ghosts are highly dangerous. Even a low level ecto-entity can be a threat to your life and well-being!” Her voice was grave, and practically oozed with conviction. Wes looked over at Kyle, gesturing towards the stage, incredulous. 

“Really? Nothing to say about this?”

“What can I say, they’re pretty dedicated. Dude, Wes, it might be an ARPG, like remember the Halo 2 ‘I love bees' thing?”

“I hate you. This isn’t even anything close to—” 

“Shh!” Someone who sounded like a teacher hissed at them. He turned his attention back to the presentation, annoyed. 

“Now, let’s go over what to do if you think you’ve been possessed or otherwise overshadowed by a ghost! First thing to look for are gaps in memory or consciousness. Changes in mood or violent tendencies can also occur. Keep an eye on your friends and loved ones. Remember that no one is immune to being overshadowed by a ghost, unless you purchase a Fenton Specter Deflector available on our website!” Almost out of nowhere, the woman pulled out what looked like a metal belt. There was silence in response, and she cleared her throat. 

“If you or someone you know has been or is currently possessed please seek help immediately, go to your teachers or parents.” Wes watched as she moved on to the next subject, talking with the fervor and simplicity of an expert. Screw whatever Kyle said, this wasn’t just for shits and giggles or some halloween event. Something was different here. The other students, despite seeming bored, looked like they fully believed her. Maybe people here would actually believe him about what happened when he was a kid. 

The hazy memories crept along his skin, making the hair on his arms stand on end. His dad told him he had an active imagination. He knew it wasn’t that.

“Finally, let’s go over what to do if a ghost fight breaks out!” 

“A ghost fight?” he echoed, brows furrowing. 

“As we’ve said, do not engage or interact with ghosts for any reason—”

“Hey, what about Phantom?” Someone from the crowd shouted. A murmur of agreement rippled through the students. 

“Who’s Phantom?” He wondered out loud, and a guy sitting in front of him turned to give him an affronted look. 

“We strongly discourage interacting with Phantom especially! When it comes to ghosts, it’s simple. There are no good ghosts! Ghosts are ectoplasmic post-human impressions driven only by their obsession! They are not human and don’t care about the havoc they wreak.”  

The crowd murmured again, the disapproval evident. A few kids shouted unintelligible things, but they sounded defensive. Wes didn’t get it, the Fenton lady seemed to know her shit, why argue? 

“Quiet! Quiet please!” Ishiyama called over the voices. Eventually the students settled, and the Fentons wrapped up their presentation. Everyone seemed disappointed that nothing embarrassing happened, until Mr. Fenton underestimated the height of the stage, and face planted onto the gym floor. The students broke into an uproar of laughter, and Ishiyama rushed to the mic to dismiss everyone back to homeroom. Wes couldn’t hold back a laugh, and glanced over to see Danny hunching up his shoulders. If Wes had to describe someone that looked like they wanted to disappear, it would be Danny in that moment. 

The walk back to the classroom was uneventful, though he was pretty sure he heard Mrs. Fenton repeatedly calling out “Danny sweetie!” Wes was really glad he wasn’t that poor bastard, talk about humiliating. He tried to ignore the pang that twisted inside his stomach. Still, it must be nice to have a mom around. 

Fifth period started in four minutes, and Wes was stuck fiddling with the lock on his locker. The damn thing looked like it’d been fished off the titanic. The wheel made an awful squealing noise when he twisted it, and even when the lock popped, he had to yank on it to get it to unlatch all the way. He put in his combo for the third time and pulled. It came undone and if it weren’t for holes on the handle he’d have gone stumbling backwards. He opened the locker and was just about to grab his History textbook, when an ear splitting alarm blasted from the overhead speakers. He jumped and spun around, hands coming up to cover his ears. 

It wasn’t like a fire alarm, instead of the shrill school bell ringing, it was a long whooping siren that echoed up and down the halls like a nuclear strike was incoming. Wes had to hand it to them, it sounded creepy as fuck. The emergency lights flashed in the hallways, and the kids around him started to make for the exits.  

“Your attention please,” an automated female voice came over the speaker, offering  a brief respite from the siren. “A ghost has been sighted in the building. Please evacuate or get to safety as soon as possible.” Holy shit, was this really happening? The siren began its wailing again. His heart thundered in his chest, and he looked both ways up and down the hall. He didn’t see anything, except for Lancer standing at the end of the hall, directing students to an emergency exit. Wes remembered then that Lancer had said something about a “ghost drill”. Of course that’s what this was. Just a drill. Wes let out a shaky breath, and went to close up his locker before he headed out. 

Which in retrospect wasn’t the greatest idea. In less than a second, something changed. The hall felt darker, and the air grew cold. Not cold like someone left the window open, cold like he’d just walked into a meat freezer. It prickled against his skin, and he felt a deep sense of dread sink to the bottom of his stomach. 

“Little lamb…” Murmured a soft voice. It echoed up the hall, and Wes forced himself to turn and look. He shouldn’t have, he really shouldn’t have. It was the shape of a woman, but she was floating a foot off the ground. She had stringy hair, and bangs that partially covered her empty eyes. In her hand looked like a shepherd's crook. Wes slammed his back against his locker, his knees locking up. He felt his hands start to tremble. Not again, he didn’t want the nightmares again.

The hall was empty, the last few terrified kids were gone. 

“Little lamb... separated from the herd… Don’t you know there’s predators?” Her voice echoed unnaturally, it’s clarity sending chills across his skin. She was hardly speaking above a whisper, but it was rough and cracked, like something had happened to her voice. But the thing that was worse was even at barely a whisper, he could somehow hear her over the sirens. Like she was right next to him breathing the words into his ears. 

The alarm cut out and the automated message looped. The woman—ghost lifted her crook to point at him. “Little lambs have to come back home,” she said. The sound of panting and low growling filled the hall. A green shape, low and lean flew out from behind her. It closed the gap between them in three strides flat. It’s eyes glowed red, and white teeth slavered toxic green. Wes’ voice stuck in his throat and he couldn’t scream, he squeezed his eyes shut and hoped he’d wake up.

Wes felt the air stir in front of him, and he heard a meaty crunch followed by a deafening caterwaul. His eyes flashed open to see the mountain lion-like creature picking itself up off the ground on the other side of the hall. And directly in front of him, it was another human shape, another ghost. They had white hair and a black jumpsuit on. 

“Bad kitty! What, did someone forget the catnip?” It was a guy’s voice that echoed around the hall. The shape cast a glance over his shoulder at Wes. He gulped down a breath, it was a boy about his age. His eyes glowed the same neon toxic green that painted the hall in its supernatural light. He looked like he was about to say something, when the big cat hurled itself at his flank. Its massive front paws slammed into his midsection and they disappeared into the wall. 

The shepherd moved towards him, and Wes felt like he was going to pass out or throw up. Maybe both, both sounded okay. She was focused entirely on him as she drifted over the floor. She was four feet away, and the expression etched onto her dead face made his stomach twist. This was worse, this was way worse than even the nightmares. Her empty eyes leaked tears. 

“It’s dangerous. There’s predators.” She lifted a hand like she was trying to reach for him. A blast of green light suddenly filled his vision, and the girl let out a scream. She was slammed backwards into a set of lockers and she slipped down to the ground. Wes’ gaze snapped to where the blast of energy had come from and saw the ghost boy. He was floating six feet off the ground, and his right hand was glowing green. He had a long deep slash across his side that was oozing and dripping globby green ectoplasm. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” he said. “What do you want?” his tone of voice was firm and sharp, it felt like ice. The girl looked up at the boy. She opened her mouth and screamed. It was a raw terrible thing that petered off into an agonized gurgle. The ghost boy arched a brow, but before he could say anything else the Shepherd melted into the wall. 

“Shit,” the ghost puffed. He turned his eyes to Wes and he stiffened again. Right, he wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet. “You must be new here. Piece of advice, run away next time, okay dude?” The ghost boy looked up at the ceiling that still had the alarms blaring and rolled his eyes. In the next instant he shot through the wall where the shepherd ghost had disappeared. 

Wes let out a breath and sunk to the floor, shivering from head to toe. What the hell was that?    

[artificialqueens]

Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 4/10 - Juno

Chapter summary: It’s chocolate week, and temperatures rise in the tent as the bakers are confronted with a deceptively simple signature, a technical with a twist, and a showstopper that may send the bakers into meltdown. Meanwhile, Aurora is determined to get her first Star Baker badge, Ellie has a drunk confession, and Tia comes clean. But Tayce’s plan may prove to be the most interesting thing Aurora has heard this week.

A/N: I am still blown away by the support for this so far! Thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

WEEK 4: CHOCOLATE WEEK

Aurora was back in line with Cherry in the tent this week, as Ginny’s departure last week had shuffled Ellie and Lawrence and herself one row further up. There were just the four of them now on this side of the room, and five on the other.

Twelve had become nine really fast. That was a quarter of them already gone, meaning her chances of winning had gone from one in twelve to one in nine. Maths wasn’t her strongest subject, but she knew that was better odds.

She looked behind Cherry to Tayce, who was looking dead ahead.

Bread week, last week, was the first time she’d seen a sliver of Tayce’s softer side, and it was a side she wanted to know more about. It was fine to be calm and collected in the tent, but on Saturday night in her room, Aurora had finally seen the mask slip a little, seen a person under it.

And if anything, she’d found she was caring for Tayce a little more.

——

Signature: 24 Chocolate brownies

Chocolate week started with chocolate brownies, which seemed simple enough, right? But as Prue and Paul stood proudly at the front as usual, Aurora could almost hear Paul’s voice echoing from a previous season, saying he’d made thirty thousand brownies in his time. Her gut started to quiver a little.

“Your brownies should have an additional flavour to give the judges an extra kick,” Matt Lucas added.

“Not a real kick. We don’t want the brownies to be trained in kickboxing.”

“No, it has to be a kick at the taste buds only.”

“They’d have to reach a long way up to kick there, Matt.”

Aurora couldn’t tell if the rest of the tent were finding Matt and Noel funny, or if the nerves were really setting in for all of them, but she found herself giggling with a mixture of the two, drumming on the table again. She took her hands away hurriedly.

“On your marks -“

“Get set -“

They all waited, while Matt Lucas stood tight-lipped.

Noel put his hands on his hips. “You don’t need to pause this long between ‘get set’ and ‘bake’, Matt, the idea is to -“

“BAKE!”

Aurora shook her head with a laugh. They’re great TV at least.

“What flavour are you putting in yours?”

Ellie had already turned around, Monster in hand as always, seeming to need as many electrolytes that would fit in her body before midday. Aurora smiled, and turned back to weighing her butter.

“Ellie, not trying to be funny, but I really want to try to focus on getting my brownies right, so if I tell you, can that be the only question for now? Please?” She added the sweetest smile she could muster and batted her eyelashes.

“Sure. Cross my heart.” Ellie crossed her chest with her pinkie finger.

“Okay, well I’m making some pistachio and mint chocolate brownies. Hopefully with some pistachio shavings on the top.”

“Pistachio shavings?” Ellie tilted her head. “Where did you get pistachio shavings from, did you go to fucking Holland and Barrett or some health food shop or something for -“

“That was one question!” Aurora put her head in her hands, chuckling.

“Ah. Right. Sorry!” Ellie grimaced and turned back to face her own workbench. Aurora, still surprised Ellie had taken this as seriously as she did, smiled to herself as she placed one of her spare alarms on the very edge of her workbench, setting the timer, to see how long Ellie would last without turning to chat again.

“Brownies in the oven already, are they?”

Tayce’s familiar accent was surprisingly close, and Aurora turned to see her right there, her presence sending the familiar tingle down her spine, making her chest fill with hot air. But the last thing Aurora wanted was distraction at this point. Even when distraction felt this good.

She waved a hand in Tayce’s direction. “I’m trying to bake! Go to your own bench!”

Tayce’s brows furrowed in mirth, turning her head to the ceiling and then back to Aurora, her smile wide but confused. “McSqueeze me?”

“I want to concentrate! I need a bloody badge, Tayce!”

Tayce raised her eyebrows, the grin slowly fading. “Okie dokie pokie, I’ll let you bake in peace then!” And she flounced away in what Aurora hoped was mock-offence, back to her own workbench, turning to her own mixture.

I just want a badge!

The chocolate-themed badge wasn’t even a cute one, not like the cupcake badge Ellie wore proudly on her chest, or the bread one that Bimini was sporting, new this week. Initially, they’d worn it over one nipple before they’d been told to remove it by a producer, claiming something about the watershed, and Bimini had cried “Free the nipple!” in response, while they and Asttina giggled to themselves.

But it didn’t even matter what shape the badge was.

I just need a badge.

“Hi, Aurora!”

Goddamnit. More interruptions. She looked up - into the pale blue eyes of Paul Hollywood.

“How’s your brownies coming on so far?”

“I - yeah, alright,” Aurora garbled. Paul had been judging them for four weeks now, but still something about his gaze on her was debilitating, although Aurora knew she wasn’t the only one in the tent with this problem.

“Tell us about your flavouring.” Aurora chose to look at Prue instead, her face kindly, gentle eyes behind the bright purple rims of her glasses. Her voice was always as warm and sweet as honey, a welcome contrast to Paul.

“I thought I’d go for something a bit different, so I’ve got mint in here, but also pistachio, and I’ll be decorating with pistachio shavings.”

“Pistachio?” That was Paul and his infamous one-word takedowns. One word from Paul could make any baker doubt themselves, especially if he hit you with an icy blue stare; but Aurora straightened up, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

“Yeah, pistachio. My nan loves them.”

“I think that sounds very intriguing,” Prue said, but Aurora knew that was the Prue Leith kindness takedown. Intriguing wasn’t much of a better word than pistachio at this point.

“You’ll be surprised!” Aurora smiled, tilting her head.

“Well, best of luck!” Paul said, as they all left her to it.

“Jesus,” Ellie hissed, turning around to face her. “They weren’t really into that, were they!”

“They’ll get into it,” Aurora replied, “I’m counting on it. I’ll convert them!”

“Yeah!” Ellie laughed to herself and turned back round, while Aurora looked at the Ellie Timer, as she was calling it. Seven minutes and forty three seconds.

By the time all the brownies were done and coming out of the oven, Ellie must have been regretting talking so much. When five minutes were called, she was still crouching in front of the oven door, and Aurora came to sit with her, her own brownies cooling in the baking tray.

“Nothing on telly tonight, is there Els?”

But Ellie huffed, her nails in her mouth. “I don’t know if they’re gonna be ready.”

“You’re gonna have to take them out soon to cool before you can cut them! What temperature have you had your oven at?”

“One sixty.”

“One sixty?” Aurora reached for the temperature control. “Please, yank it up for the last few minutes, Ellie, please -“

It probably wouldn’t be enough still, but it may just work to keep her around. Ellie turned the dial to two hundred, then sat back, finding Aurora’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

“What’s up, you two?” Lawrence had come over, her own brownies cut and cooling on the workbench. “What are you watching here that’s so riveting? Ellie’s brownies? Are they dancing?”

“They need a bit longer -“

“They need to be cut up, Aurora,” Lawrence interrupted, looking through the panel. “They should be alright - Els, you can’t leave them any longer now hen, they need to come out so they can cool enough to cut up -“

By the time Ellie’s were out and cut - Ellie cutting and Lawrence moving them to the tray - Noel called for one minute, and Aurora’s stomach filled with lead.

Shit. I haven’t cut mine yet!

Her legs shook for a moment and her head span as she rounded her own workbench, but someone was already there.

“Chillax! It’s in hand!”

Tayce was cutting along the lines Aurora had measured, measuring out the rows in four by six; and Aurora’s stomach tingled, spreading to her chest, as her breath came in weak shudders.

She’s never done this for anyone else before. I haven’t seen her do that for anyone before. But she’s doing it for me.

“Well don’t just stand there! Grab the pistachio filings you keep going on about and sprinkle like your life depends on it, girl!”

Aurora nodded at Tayce’s words, and as Tayce loaded onto the tray, Aurora went as fast as she could, pinch and sprinkle, pinch and sprinkle, and even Tia came over to help, followed by a tentative Veronica, pinching and sprinkling … Noel looking worriedly at the group of them … Matt looking down at his watch -

As the final brownie was sprinkled, Noel finally called for time.

Aurora sighed the biggest sigh she had probably ever felt. Tia looped an arm into hers to squeeze, while Veronica patted her back, as they both went back to their benches.

Tayce’s hand lingered on her shoulder, and just that contact left a ripple effect of goosebumps down her arm, the gentle tingle in Aurora’s chest overwhelming now, as Aurora leaned against Tayce’s shoulder, surprised at how much her heartbeat sped against her ribs.

She … cares. She cares if I stay or if I go.

——

The mood at Carr Hall was sombre after the Signature challenge.

“We all went into that thinking we were gonna be amazing. I mean, it’s brownies, right? We’ve all made brownies before. I suppose … we just can never be sure what the judges want?”

Tia grimaced as she spoke; but Veronica, clutching her hand in both of hers, bumped her on the hip.

“You did great, love. You got really good feedback, and you probably needed it after last week.”

“Yeah. I feel a bit crappy though,” Tia continued, turning her eyes to the rest of the room. “Normally everyone’s so happy when we all come back from a signature, but this time everyone’s upset, because you all got negative critiques. I don’t know whether to be happy or not.”

“I’m gonna go and see if Cherry’s alright,” Veronica muttered, standing, walking over to Tayce, currently talking energetically at a slightly grey-looking Cherry by the brownies.

“She doesn’t look good,” Tia muttered; and Cherry didn’t, nodding along with Tayce with pinched lips and folded arms, but not saying a word. “What was it the judges said about her brownies? Oh yeah. Too much mint extract, tasted like toothpaste.”

“Who’s gonna give us all the gossip if Cherry goes, though? She seems to know everything about everyone.” Aurora said, and Tia shuffled in her seat, lips twitching at the corners.

“What?”

“Well,” Tia said, the smile no longer contained. “She got us right, we might as well admit it.”

“Oh, did she now?” Aurora grinned. “Was it a case of neuken in de keuken or whatever it was, that Dutch phrase you taught me last week?”

“Not quite,” Tia said, eyes widening a fraction and her cheeks flushing. But before Aurora could tease Tia further, she felt arms from behind her creeping down her chest to loop round her neck, and a soft Welsh accent at her ear.

“Is now the right time to tell you all that I don’t even like chocolate?”

Aurora gasped, slapping Tayce on the arm, draped in front of her. “And you still got a Hollywood handshake! You jammy bitch!”

Tayce responded by pulling Aurora up from the sofa by her wrist, the butterflies already present in her chest fluttering at the contact.

“I wasn’t the only one though! You being modest again, Rory! I think you know what that means, don’t you? No middle grounds, no versy Percys! Which of us will be Star Baker this week?”

Tayce was millimetres away from her, or so it seemed. Aurora could see the exact detail of the colour of her eyes, could count the lines at her cheeks as she smiled. She smelt like mint gum and chocolate and the scented shampoo that hung in an intoxicating concoction in the air.

For a moment, Aurora forgot to speak.

“Me, of course!” Tayce spoke in her place, letting her go and throwing her head back into a cackle. “Who else! Leave it to the woman who doesn’t even like chocolate to be taking this round!”

“I don’t think so,” Aurora finally found her tongue.

“Oh, no?” Tayce said silkily, her face drawing closer, and Aurora didn’t really care if she challenged her at this moment, her skin tingling and something feather-light blooming in her chest as Tayce locked eyes with her.

“Game on, Rory,” Tayce purred.

——

Technical: Six molten chocolate puddings filled with peanut butter.

“The technical will be judged on a staggered basis this week, so you’ll all be timed individually, and live, with a five minute gap between each person.”

Noel’s announcement at Technical as they stood there, waiting for it to start, was completely unexpected. Prue and Paul had already left the tent as the Technicals were always blind, so they were expecting a normal Technical challenge.

Trust them to throw a curveball.

“The first person will start their bake, then the next will have five minutes to get ready to enter the tent and set themselves up,” Matt continued.

As long as I’m not first or last, please don’t let me be first or last -

“So everyone leave the tent, apart from …”

Please don’t say Aurora, please don’t say Aurora -

“… Ellie.”

Ellie made a noise at the back of her throat, but then took a deep breath, straightening to her full height. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

“Everyone else please leave the tent, and follow the path back out -“

Before long the rest of them were in the tea tent, the small tent with the hot drinks machines, all cramped inside on stools while the producer explained a little further.

“Everyone’s name has gone into a hat, alright, and we’ve drawn them all to put you in order, so just get yourselves ready to go back in, alright?”

Aurora nodded along with everyone else, but her leg was jogging against the stool, her nails finding her mouth. Tayce, next to her still, rested a hand on her knee and curled her fingertips, in a motion that sent a ripple of goosebumps up her leg and drew her attention away from the room.

She blinked, trying to focus on the producer as she read the names down the list on the clipboard.

“Lawrence, you’re going next. Followed by … Tayce.”

Aurora glanced at Tayce, whose smile gave nothing away as usual.

The other names came in order. Veronica was fourth, then Asttina, Cherry, and finally Aurora let the air go from her lungs when her name was read seventh. Tia looked relieved at being called next, while Bimini smiled lazily at their last position.

“Save the best ‘til last,” they said with a grin.

But as the tea tent started emptying, as people started heading to start the Technical, the mood dropped, gradually at first, but by the time only Tia and Bimini were left in there with Aurora, all of them were silent, Tia pacing up and down with a hand on her hip.

“Don’t worry, babes,” Bimini reached a hand to her, and Tia let them take it and rub her knuckles. “It’s the same as any other Technical, you’ll be fine.”

When Aurora finally got in, walking through the tent, she saw lots of baking going on in various stages, but Ellie, at thirty minutes in, was furthest along and Aurora still wasn’t sure what they were.

“Hi, baker number seven,” Matt waved to Aurora. “The judges would like you to make six molten chocolate puddings, filled with peanut butter. The instructions are in the top drawer for you, and the ingredients are under the tablecloth as usual.”

Aurora tried to hold back her sigh of relief. Finally, something she was familiar with. She’d made molten chocolate puddings before, not with peanut butter, but she was sure the idea would be the same.

Molten chocolate puddings. This makes a bit more sense as to why they want us all to go on a rolling basis now. They’d need to be judged straight from the oven to be fair.

“You have one hour thirty to make your puddings, starting now.”

Aurora whipped out the instructions, running her pencil down them. There were so many obstacles this week - overworking the dough, adding too much or too little chocolate, over- or under-baking, not to mention the amount and consistency of the peanut butter. She tapped the pencil against her chin, pushing wisps of blonde hair back from her face.

Looking over, she caught Tayce’s eye, and Tayce winked, mouthing you got this. Aurora’s insides were melting like the peanut butter she’d have to perfect today.

With everyone around her at various stages, she tried not to be too distracted as Ellie and Lawrence, just in front of her, were much further along - constantly silently reminding herself that she wasn’t behind, it was just part of the challenge to keep your nerve in this psychological minefield.

God, this is so daunting! You’re made to feel like you’re doing something wrong, like you’re behind!

Finally, time was called for Ellie. Aurora still had thirty minutes remaining on her own puddings, but Ellie had the daunting task of giving the first bake to the judges.

“You’re gonna be good,” Aurora muttered to her, but Ellie just smiled, looking a little more confident than she had last week, as she straightened up to her full height, Matt approaching her to bring her puddings before the judges.

“You can go back to now, and take a break,” the producer said to her. “Nice one, love.”

Ellie had left the tent in the blink of an eye, and now that the seal had been broken on the judging, the rest of the bakes seemed to be over faster and faster. Lawrence left next in what seemed like no time at all, followed by Tayce, who gave Aurora a little kissy face as she passed, a cheeky wink, and a whispered “see you soon, bitch!”

By the time Aurora had given hers to Matt, and left the tent herself, she felt like she was floating. Her puddings had come out much better than any other time she’d made them before. And all she needed was this one batch to be good and maybe she’d be taking home a Star Baker badge.

She didn’t even take two steps into the common room when Tayce had seized her hand and pulled her back outside.

“What?”

Tayce’s eyes were as wide as her toothy grin. “You’re not gonna believe what I saw when I got back from the Technical.”

“What was it? A squirrel with huge nuts?” Aurora tilted her head to the side.

Tayce threw her head back and cackled to the sky. “Alright! Jesus! If you’re gonna be sarcastic, then maybe I’ll just keep it to myself then! Maybe you’ll have to find out on your own!”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her smile was full and luscious. Her hand in Aurora’s was warm, and Aurora was struggling to resist the temptation to keep pushing her to keep talking.

Eventually, she swallowed down the lump of pride in her throat. “Go on then, tell me!”

“Oh, you want to know now, do you?” Tayce raised one eyebrow, showing all her teeth with her smile.

“Tayce!”

Tayce threw back her head in a moment of laughter. “Let’s just say that Tia and Veronica aren’t the only ones here swapping lipstick shades!”

“That was it?” Aurora rolled her eyes. “I saw Asttina kissing Bimini too, I was there as well you know!”

“Not them either,” Tayce purred. “Come on, Rory, it’s staring you in the face!”

… staring me in the face?

For one heart-stopping moment, Aurora thought Tayce was about to confess something about the two of them, here and now. Her gaze was steady and her face was so close to Aurora’s, with her thumb on the pressure point in the palm of her hand, her mind barely able to focus on any other sensation in her body …

“Who?” She breathed, blinking herself back to the present.

But Tayce’s smile widened. “Just think about who finished before me in the Technical, who I might have walked in on, and then you’ll get it!”

And Aurora’s stomach flipped when she realised.

Ellie and Lawrence had both finished before Tayce.

Jesus. Them too?

——

“In ninth place we have this one -“

Tayce’s hand gripped her right one so tightly that Aurora knew it would be ages until she got the circulation back. On her left, Tia raised her hand to claim ninth place.

“Tia,” Paul said with a small smile. “You took it out of the oven a bit fast, and the one I tried felt under baked. It had caved in on itself, looked a bit of a disaster I’m afraid. It tasted alright, though.”

Tia nodded, her eyes downcast, a sad smile on her face. “Accurate. Harsh, but accurate. Next time.“

That was what Tia always said when given bad critiques. Veronica had her hand in both of hers, rubbing her wrist. Aurora glanced at them both, but neither of them noticed anyone around them, their own little world encasing them from the rest of the bakers.

She did a bit crap last week too. Maybe it’s Tia’s week.

But her attention was on Paul as he made his way down the rest of the line of puddings, calling out names in reverse order - Veronica, then Cherry, then Ellie, Asttina, Lawrence, and finally Bimini.

“In second place - whose is this one?”

Tayce and Aurora were the only two left.

Aurora squinted at the picture that Paul was standing behind, and … no way.

Tayce squeezed Aurora’s hand, as Tayce herself raised her free one to claim second place.

“Tayce - really good, very little to pick apart here, well done, you were just beaten by a whisker in the bake. Which means that first place goes to - “

Aurora let go of Tia’s knee to raise her hand, while the rest of them broke into polite applause.

Fuck. First place in Technical! My second top placement in Technical in four episodes! God. Why couldn’t I have done that on bread week and I’d have been basically guaranteed a final three place!

But as the applause died down, and the bakers filed out of the tent back to Carr Hall, Aurora’s head buzzed with thoughts that threatened to drag her upwards to the clouds, only Tayce’s fingers intertwined with hers keeping her on the ground.

I’ve had two Technical wins, good critiques, and a Hollywood handshake. I’ve never had a disaster and I never seem to be in line for elimination.

Maybe … maybe I am a competitor. Maybe I can do this!

——

As soon as they got into Carr Hall, Ellie poured out nine shots, one for each of them because apparently if Ellie was drinking, so was everyone.

This was the first long day - the critiques for the Signature had brought everyone’s moods down, and the stress of the staged Technicals had simply fuelled the tension, but after a couple of shots of sambuca that Ellie had poured out, Aurora started to warm up and relax a little.

I need to remember I’m not a student any more, though. I can’t just down sambuca shots and get up for a 9am lecture.

Ellie was a bit more tipsy, and tipsy Ellie fell into the oversharer category. In the last twenty minutes, as the two of them chatted away from the others, Aurora had learned her dream of putting makeup on Blu Hydrangea, how she’d come out to her family, and the story of what Ellie and her friends referred to as ‘The Edinburgh Incident’ which had made Aurora shriek with laughter but definitely wouldn’t air before the 9pm watershed.

But when Aurora mentioned Lawrence’s name, Ellie clammed up, giggling.

“No, no no no, don’t go there -“

“Tayce said she saw you two together after the Technical!”

“Tayce,” Ellie sniggered, raising her eyebrows. “What’s happening with you two as well? You’re always together now, giving each other puppy eyes, holding hands -”

“What?” Aurora put a hand to her chest. “There’s nothing there! And don’t try to change the subject, Els! Tell me what was going on with you and Lawrence earlier!”

“Nothing was happening!” Ellie protested, but her chest was bright red and she hid her face behind her can of Red Bull. “I mean … we were getting, like, close …”

Aurora gently moved her hand out of the way of her face. “Do you want something to happen?”

“I - I don’t know!” Ellie spluttered with sudden nervous giggles. “I mean, yeah - but like, I don’t know!”

Aurora cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Come on, Els, give me some gossip for once, I’m sick of hearing everything from Cherry!”

Ellie shifted her shoulders. “I mean, yeah, evidently we both want something to happen if this afternoon was anything to go by …”

“Ellie!” Aurora’s jaw dropped open. “Did you two -“

“Wait, Cherry’s going out to smoke - wait -“

Ellie turned, drew her arm away from Aurora’s grasp, and left to go outside - following Cherry, still grey after her Technical critiques, who was going to smoke.

“Rory!” Tayce greeted her as she went to the sofa, running a hand through her hair. “I’m glad you’re getting to celebrate your win in Technical today, because I’m the one who’s gonna get Star Baker tomorrow. And the person who won the whole thing last year got Star Baker in chocolate week too.”

“Lightning won’t strike twice then,” Aurora muttered.

Tayce’s eyes widened a fraction. “The cheek! The nerve! The gall the audacity and the gumption! Lightning definitely strikes twice. Didn’t you hear about that bloke who got hit twice by lightning and survived?”

“That only happens in Saturday morning cartoons. Oh, and in Fleetwood Mac songs.” They were interrupted by Lawrence, coming over to them from the other sofa.

“Hey, Lozza,” Tayce clapped her hand on Lawrence’s knee. “I thought you were over with - oh.” Her eyes drifted to the other sofa, where Lawrence had come from, where Bimini had come to join Asttina, and they had both turned to face each other, their own little bubble looking like popping it would be unwelcome.

Aurora’s stomach twisted unexpectedly, suddenly hot and uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why this was happening, but it wasn’t pleasant.

She disentangled herself, hand on her stomach; and made her way out the common room, out to the grounds, past Cherry and Ellie passing a cigarette between them, and out to the trees, shadowy in the creeping twilight.

She wasn’t sure what had prompted her to come all the way down here, spurred by the need for fresh air and enticed by the trees, but she was stopped by the voices ahead of her.

“… not that bad.”

“You don’t get it, Tia -“

“I mean, okay, I’m not you, but they’ve loved you all the previous weeks, this is just one slip up -“

A strangled sigh. She could see Tia and Veronica through the trees, realising they’d been missing most of the last hour. Aurora wanted to turn and leave them in private, but her feet wouldn’t move, leaving her cast in shadow by a tree.

“… you can do this, alright?” That was Tia’s voice, a tenderness that was unfamiliar to Aurora’s ears running along the edges of every word. “What are you making for the signature? What kind of cake?”

Tia was leaning with a shoulder against a tree, nodding along as Veronica muttered to her what she was baking; but Aurora couldn’t hear a word of it very clearly. Veronica had her back to Aurora, but she could see her put her hand to her forehead and shake as she sighed, her voice floating louder again.

“… all go wrong and I’ll be sent home!”

“Vee, look - things go wrong! Just let it go! Have fun with it! It’s not the end of the world. At the end of the day, it’s a baking competition, and you’re here, so you’re the best!”

“I just -“ Veronica sighed again, this time a strangled sob following it.

Aurora watched as Tia gathered Veronica into her arms, planted a long kiss on her forehead, holding her tightly to herself, running a hand in slow circles at her shoulder blades.

If she hadn’t felt like she was interrupting an intimate moment before, Aurora knew she was now, even through the veil of alcohol. She stole away as quietly as she could, hoping to just give them a bit more privacy.

Why is everyone acting so loved up? They’re all at it!

Tayce met her at the doorway to Carr Hall, leaning a hand against the doorframe and nodding as she approached. They were alone now, as Cherry and Ellie had gone back inside, and the chill in the air was starting to bite.

“You left quite quickly!”

“Yeah - I was just -“ Aurora motioned, but Tayce grabbed her wrist.

“Come on, down here -“ Tayce tugged her along in the other direction, towards the woods, this time in a different direction, out the way of Tia and Veronica as they started back towards the building.

“What’s going on?”

Tayce raked her fingers through her hair, her eyes to the sky, searching for the right words, as Aurora felt Tayce’s thumb start to stroke her forearm, not letting go of her wrist.

“There’s just -“ Tayce huffed, her voice dropping lower so as not to be heard. “Just so much … lovey dovey stuff going on, I don’t get why it’s all being done in the dark! I bet the viewers would love to see it.”

Aurora opened her mouth, and then closed it again. Tayce’s eyes were bright, boring holes into her, and she momentarily lost the power of speech.

“I - yeah, sure.”

“Everyone in the country was cheering on Blu and Cheryl last year, weren’t they? Whole country loved it. And with the amount of love in the room so far this season, it could happen again, couldn’t it? It’s not crazy to think that two people on this show could fall for each other, is it?”

There it was again - that shiver down Aurora’s spine that had started to happen whenever Tayce was near her, and a bubbling in her chest as the tingling spread down her whole body.

“What if it was us? What if the whole country was cheering on us, Rory?”

For a second, the world stopped turning.

Aurora breathed in a modicum of hope. “Do you mean -“

“A little flirting, on the screen, and the audience will be convinced we’re dating, or getting together!” Tayce said, her voice low but her eyes alight. “Doesn’t have to be anything over the top, it can be subtle - what d’you think?”

Aurora’s throat had a painful lump lodged in it, one that repeated swallows would not dislodge.

I think it just confirms that Tayce doesn’t see me like that.

On the other hand, maybe it would show Tayce how she really felt. Maybe it was a chance to get close to Tayce, and to … test out dating her, to let Tayce fall for her as hard as she’d fallen for Tayce.

“I think it could work,” she murmured finally.

Tayce’s eyes flickered, but then she grinned.

“Great! Let’s talk about it some more, set some boundaries.” Tayce led the way back to Carr Hall, while Aurora forced the smile to stay in place.

——

Showstopper: A melting chocolate ball with a dessert inside, with hot accompaniment of your choice.

“How’re you doing, Rory?”

Aurora squeezed her eyes shut tightly at Tayce’s voice.

“I’m trying to focus on my Showstopper.”

“I bet you are.”

On the bench in front of her, Ellie didn’t even attempt to contain the splutter of laughter as she choked on the mouthful of Monster.

“Tayce, I mean it - I need to focus.” She allowed Tayce to come a step nearer, for Tayce to lean leisurely against the workbench and survey her. “You don’t want me going home this week, do you?”

“No chance of that happening.” Tayce lazily kicked the bottom of the workbench with one foot. “How’s it going? What are you making?”

“A mess - at least, I am right now,” Aurora replied, leaning past Tayce to get to the bowl of sugar she’d already mentioned, the scent of Tayce’s perfume causing her mind to freeze and momentarily forget about baking at all.

“Well, have a nice time making a mess, and just make sure you make it a tasty mess, bitch!”

“Is that my new term of endearment?” Aurora teased.

Tayce cocked an eyebrow, with a slow blink that melted Aurora’s insides.

“You wish.”

She strolled away, back to her own desk, leaving Aurora to float.

Sure, what they’d discussed last night was more of an on-screen arrangement. A little flirting, some gentle touches, maybe a peck or two, to keep viewers hooked. But that didn’t mean Aurora didn’t still have to quell the butterflies as they fluttered in her chest every time Tayce was near her

God. I feel like I’m in The Hunger Games.

Tia and Veronica were being secretive, and Asttina and Bimini too, but having their romance more public could give them both an edge to go to the finale.

As long as she could still focus on baking.

And trying to think about chocolate and her Showstopper was distorted by Tayce’s face close to hers. Her mind, currently filled with thoughts of Tayce, was threatening to derail her. She couldn’t let this happen.

When Aurora looked round to the front again, she saw Ellie making no effort to conceal her stare, a smug smile on her lips.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been getting up to either, Els!”

In front of them both, Lawrence dropped her baking tray with a resounding crash, while Ellie whipped back round to her own Showstopper and didn’t disturb Aurora any more that afternoon.

“Hi, Aurora!”

Aurora arranged her face into what she hoped was a confident smile as she heard Paul’s voice. “Tell us about your bake this week.”

“I’m making a dark chocolate ball, with some additional white chocolate that I’m colouring with the pink and blue here,” Aurora said, pointing to the bowls over the bain marie she’d set up. “Hopefully it will give you a galaxy effect. And the dessert it will have inside is a sticky toffee tart with like, an orange sauce to melt it.”

“Sounds intriguing,” Prue said, and Aurora hoped she didn’t notice her wince. “Is there any inspiration behind the dessert at all?”

“Mostly I just love sticky toffee!” Aurora found herself giggling. “But like … I guess, I like galaxy themed things. It’s a reminder to myself, to … I don’t know, to reach for the stars, I guess.”

She didn’t take her eyes off the judges, but she could have sworn she saw Tayce’s head turn towards her out of the corner of her eye.

“That sounds wonderful. Good luck!” Prue replied, and the judges left her to it.

Having the judges over seemed to click something into place in her mind. She couldn’t think about Tayce right now. Tayce would have to wait.

——

“Tell us about your bake, Tia.”

“I have made an adequate chocolate ball, made of chocolate that is in a spherical shape around a dessert. What’s the dessert? Well, once you melt the chocolate globe you will find out!”

None of them could contain their laughter at Tia’s commentary on her Showstopper, even the judges, as they poured the warm cream over the top and watched it melt away into nothing, the dessert inside it being revealed.

“That’s right - it’s an adequate dessert made of ingredients that I found in my cupboard at home,” Tia continued just as flatly.

Almost everyone was spluttering. Ellie reached a hand to clutch at Aurora’s, tears in her eyes; while Veronica, the only person who wasn’t laughing, looked a little tense, clicking her tongue.

Tia was the last one to be judged this week. Most of them had had reasonably good critiques, with only Cherry leaning forward anxiously to see if Tia had worse feedback than she’d had; her chocolate ball collapsing before she’d even taken it for judging.

“I love that flavour,” Prue said finally, “and the filling is just the right consistency.”

“Chocolate is good too,” Paul nodded. “You’ve really nailed the mint flavour, it doesn’t come across as toothpaste-y at all. Nice one this week, Tia.”

Everyone applauded politely but Cherry’s smile was forced, her gaze defeated.

“You’ve got a good chance this week!” Ellie whispered to Aurora once they got outside, and Aurora had to admit she was feeling it too. As much as she didn’t like the badge, a badge was still a badge!

But Ellie fell silent, looking over her head, before smiling wryly; Aurora turned to see Tayce at her side.

“Good feedback, Rory,” she murmured, her lips perking into a smile. “Think it’s between us this week. Good luck, bitch!”

——

“I have the great job this week of announcing who the Star Baker is.” Matt Lucas held the chocolate bar badge, turning it over and over as he spoke. “This person made a set of fantastic chocolate puddings, a great Signature, and their Showstopper was explosive. Star baker is …”

All around the tent, breath was being held, and Aurora felt Ellie’s elbow in her ribs -

“Tayce! Congratulations, Tayce!”

Everyone was clapping, but Aurora couldn’t; she wanted to, but Tayce’s hand gripped hers so tightly she couldn’t let go, so she clapped her free hand against her knee, waiting for Tayce to catch her eye so she could tell her well done …

Tayce waited, mouthing thank yous at everyone, waiting until the end to lock eyes with Aurora, and Aurora saw the delight in them, elation she hadn’t seen before. As Tayce leaned closer to her, to peck her on the lips, Aurora felt hope blooming in her chest, as much as she tried to reason with it.

In fact, she didn’t hear a single word more from the tent as she floated, only realising as Cherry hugged her, tears in her eyes, that Cherry was set to leave, her chocolate ball disaster sealing her fate.

Her feet were still felt two inches off the ground as Aurora waited for Tayce after her winner’s interview, after Cherry had to give her exit interview. Cherry had been tearful, sighing deeply, but her words had been lined with defeat, as if she’d known it was her time.

“You won Star Baker! Congrats!”

“Thanks, babe. This badge is just weighing me down now.” Tayce’s new shiny chocolate bar badge glinted in the lights of the tent as they dimmed, but Tayce wasn’t paying it any attention. She caught both Aurora’s hands, pressing her thumbs into the palms, a motion that never failed to draw all her thoughts away, good and bad.

Aurora’s chest filled with butterflies once again, batting their wings in elation against her ribcage, and suddenly she was looking forward to dessert week, when she could see Tayce again.

——

EIGHT BAKERS REMAIN

[magniloquent-raven]

43, and 83?

ty for the prompts!! 

posted on ao3

i’m taking commissions for HfBLM now y’all, if you like this fic and have $5 to spare pls consider donating & hitting me up with a prompt. my info is here

--

Steve is pretending to watch TV when the phone rings. He’s not even sure what show he threw on, just couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. His weekends used to be a lot more eventful. Lively. There was a time when he’d have had something to fill the silence, but now...

He graduated high school eight days ago. The only thing he has to look forward to now is Dustin getting back from camp in a couple weeks, and in the meantime, he’s working at the mall. Scooping ice-cream in the dumbest hat on the fucking planet.

And he got another lecture on responsibility yesterday. His father’s idea of a graduation present, apparently.

Life isn’t great right now.

So, when the phone interrupts his pity party, he assumes the worst. Which, given Hawkins’ track-record, is pretty bad. Apocalyptic bad.

Or it could just be his dad, tipsy in a hotel room in Indianapolis and thinking up new reasons why Steve is a disappointment.

He’s not sure which one he hopes it is.

“Harrington, residence,” he says when he picks up, in case it is his father.

The silence from the other end stretches long enough that Steve almost hangs up, then, “Heey,” a voice slurs. A familiar voice. “That you, Stevie?”

“Hargrove?”

“Ugh,” a staticky scoff crackles through the line, “Don’t call me that.”

“Are you drunk?” He ignores the way Billy rankles at his own last name. Doesn’t have time to unpack Billy Hargrove’s many issues, and honestly, the fact that the guy is calling him out of the blue drunk off his ass is the more pressing issue. “And how did you get my phone number?”

“Phonebook, genius.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. Ignores the weird little thrill he gets at the idea of Billy going through the trouble of looking up his number. “What the hell, man.”

He should hang up. Billy can’t possibly have any good reason to be calling, and engaging with…whatever this is, probably won’t end well for Steve. However, Steve is very bored. And Hargrove is at the very least…entertaining. In his way. 

If Steve were a little more honest with himself, he might use other adjectives, but he’s not thinking about that.

“Steeevie…” Billy sing-songs through the phone, “Pretty boy, what’re you doing right now?”

“Regretting answering the phone.”

Billy cackles, “No, really.”

“I’m really regretting answering the phone.”

“C’mooon.”

See, the thing is… Billy’s...whatever his deal is, fixation or whatever, really doesn’t bother Steve as much as it should. 

Sometimes it’s shitty, yeah. On his bad days, when Billy says exactly the wrong thing, just to get a rise out of him. But it’s also…not all terrible. Maybe Steve’s ten kinds of fucked up for thinking it, but it’s flattering. Because it isn’t just crass comments and getting overly physical during basketball practice, it’s calling Steve pretty, and glancing over after he does a trick shot, like he wants to make sure Steve saw him. And heavy, unflinching eye-contact that makes Steve hot all over.

So, maybe Steve’s got a bit of a…problem. And maybe he’s thinking about it a little.

About Billy being the only person over the age of fourteen who regularly pays attention to him, and why that even matters. And how much he didn’t mean it when he said he regretted picking up at all.

It’s a rabbit hole he’s kind of terrified to go down, but his brain keeps trying to push him in anyway.

“Steeeevve.”

He sighs. “What do you want, Billy?”

Billy’s quiet for a beat, like he’s actually thinking about it, then hums, low and amused, and says, “More than you could handle, baby.”

Steve chokes on his tongue. Falls down the rabbit hole.

Because what’s that supposed to mean?

“Are you—” Steve stutters, stops, heart racing. Billy’s messing with him. That’s what he does. It doesn't mean anything. Steve kind of hates how much he wants it to mean something. Wants Billy here crooning baby in his ear without the phone between them. “What if your parents are listening in, you can’t just say shit like that.” 

Oh the irony. After all the times girls have said almost that exact thing to him, here he is... The implications thrill him a little.

But then there’s a bark of laughter, bitter and humourless. “You worried about me?” Steve frowns at the sudden shift in Billy’s tone. “M’not at home right now, princess, don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

 “Where are you then?” It slips out before he can think better of it. It’s none of his business where Billy is, and Billy doesn’t take well to people nosing around in his life. Not that it’s an especially personal question. Still, he’s seen Billy bite people’s heads off for less. 

But all he says is, “Dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Steve squawks. Billy is somewhere, drunk and probably alone, in Hawkins. Monster infested, suspicious death capital of Indiana, motherfucking Hawkins. And either he’s so drunk he’s got no sense of direction, or he just hasn’t been here long enough to know his ass from Melvald’s General. Or some horrible combo of the two. None of those options are good. 

“Just…describe what you see.” The line is silent for a while. Steve grips the phone harder. “Billy,” he snaps, not caring that he’s letting his anxiety bleed into his voice.

“Jesus, alright,” Billy mutters, “Trees. More fuckin’ trees. Y’know, this town really is a shithole. Nothin’ around but mud and—”

“Focus, asshole.”

“So bossy. There’s some big-ass chain-link fence. Seems weird, ‘cause it’s the middle of nowh—"

“Oh god, you’re out by Mirkwood,” Steve realizes, horrified.

“…I’ll be sure to watch out for elves then.” He can almost hear Billy’s eyeroll.

“Would you stop being—wait, you understood the reference?” Steve blinks. Processes. Tries not to find it too endearing that Billy Hargrove is, underneath the leather and hairspray, a nerd, apparently. 

Now is really not the time. So he files the information away for later. He’s not sure what he’s gonna do with it later, but it feels important for some reason. 

“Never mind, just—Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” Mirkwood isn’t far, it would only take him a couple minutes to drive there. And Steve knows exactly where the payphone on that street is, which helps.

Steve half-expects a fight. Expects Billy to protest, claim he doesn’t need help or whatever, but what he gets is a quiet, “I…okay.”

“I’ll be right there,” Steve says firmly. He’s not sure Billy needs the reassurance, but he gives it anyway.

He’s shaking a little, he realizes, as he pulls on his jacket and grabs his keys. It’s ridiculous, probably, to be so freaked out, and he chides himself internally for being so easily spooked. The gate is closed, the lab is shut down, there should be nothing in those woods scarier than Billy himself. But shouldn’t be didn’t stop Will Byers from getting taken in the first place. None of that shit should have been, but it happened anyway. Billy may be more formidable than some shrimpy twelve-year-old but he’s also drunk, and has no idea what could be out there.

Steve pushes the speed limit a little.

~~

Billy is sitting in the dirt on the side of the road, knees pulled to his chest, back against the payphone booth. The dirty fluorescent behind him lights up his honey-coloured curls like the world's saddest halo.

The knot of anxiety in Steve’s chest loosens a little.

He puts the Beemer in park. Now that he knows Billy’s okay, he realizes he didn’t really think this all the way through. Because…what now?

Billy hasn’t moved, so Steve goes to him, approaches cautiously, with his hands in his pockets to stop him from fidgeting too much. “Billy?”

“Hey.” The greeting is subdued.

“You okay, man?”

He sniffs, doesn’t look at Steve. Rubs the back of his hand under his nose. “No.” There’s something clutched in his other hand, Steve realizes, but he can’t make out what it is because Billy is curled around it, blocking the light.

“Do…you want to, uh, talk about it?” Steve cringes his way through the question. He’s really, really out of his depth here, not a goddamn buoy in sight.

There’s no response. The silence stretches on for an awkward moment before Billy pushes himself to his feet, swaying a little. Steve’s almost afraid he’s going to fall over but he just shuffles forward, uncharacteristically hesitant, and extends a hand towards Steve when he gets close enough.

With a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his fist.

Only half of them have bloomed, their little purple petals unfurled. The stems look a little prickly, dotted with green buds and jagged leaves, and half-crushed in Billy’s hand, the green turned dark and pulpy in spots.

Steve is pretty sure if his heart tried to beat any faster it would actually explode. He’s genuinely at a loss for words, left gaping at Billy trying not to wheeze like he’s just run a marathon.

“Picked these for you,” Billy mutters. He’s staring at a patch of dirt near Steve’s shoe with the intensity of someone trying very hard not to look at anything else.

There’s air escaping Steve’s lungs, but he can’t seem to make it into sound. He stares, unmoving, for long enough that Billy starts fidgeting, lowering his hand. The motion spurs Steve to action, heart in his mouth he reaches out and grabs Billy’s wrist. Billy stills under his fingers, and Steve slides his palm down the back of his hand. He’s warm. Knuckles scarred and rough.

“…Why?” Steve’s voice is reverently quiet. He’s almost afraid to scare Billy off, say the wrong thing and make him retreat behind the walls he’s always hiding behind.

Billy shrugs. Then finally looks Steve in the eye. He’s cautious, tension in his shoulders, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that Steve’s never seen before. It’s breathtaking. Literally. Steve stops breathing for a second. 

“Why’re you here?” Billy asks. Demands. There’s no edge to it, just a quiet desperation that breaks Steve’s heart. He wonders why Billy is here. What brought him to the edge of town, drunk and alone.

“I…” His fingers tighten around Billy’s hand. Lies destroyed him and Nancy. All the things she kept from him that tore her up inside, all the times he wanted to pretend everything was okay. Lies are making his parents miserable. Always acting like their marriage isn’t hanging by a thread and a shared bank account. He and Billy don’t have a relationship to destroy, but—“I was worried about you.”

The words terrify him now that they’re out there. Saying he and Billy don’t have a relationship is an understatement. They’re barely even civil on a good day. Billy’s probably just bored out of his mind in small-town Indiana and fucking with Steve is as good an outlet as any, and Steve’s the dumb motherfucker who went and caught feelings for someone just for paying attention to him, oh god—

Steve pulls his hand away, cheeks burning, while the world starts shrinking around him, narrowing down to him and his sweaty palms. He’s had panic attacks before, but if he has one now he might actually fucking die.

“My dad took my keys,” Billy says, cutting through Steve’s internal tirade.

He blinks. “What?”

Billy’s fidgeting again. “Turned eighteen a couple months ago. Told myself I was gonna wait ‘til graduation. Finish school, y’know? Been saving up, and fuckin’ dreaming about this for years, but then…” He stops, grits his teeth. Steve waits for him to continue with bated breath.

“I was gonna get out. Didn’t want anything holding me back. But then my dad took my fucking keys and I—I wasn’t even mad that he stopped me,” Billy’s voice breaks, catches in his throat, “I wanted someone to stop me. Didn’t want it to be him, but it was never gonna be you. Because you. You don’t—” he stutters to a halt and squeezes his eyes shut.

And…that’s a lot to process. It’s a lot. But Steve had some practice taking things in stride, so he focuses on what’s important for now.

“Hey,” he says softly, and touches his fingertips to the inside of Billy’s wrist. Billy jolts, his eyes open and he looks at Steve warily, but he doesn’t pull away. “Can I take you home?”

Poor word choice. Billy recoils, curls in on himself.

“My house! I meant to my house,” Steve amends. The way Billy instantly relaxes worries Steve. This whole situation worries Steve. “There’s, uh, no one else there, so. I mean, oh-- I just want to get you sobered up, and—and once you’re—I’m just gonna stop talking. Let’s. Let’s just go.”

He turns and heads to the car so he doesn’t embarrass himself any more.

The drive back to Loch Nora is quiet, the radio plays something soft that Steve can barely hear and neither of them speak. The silence gets deafening when he cuts the engine. 

Billy Hargrove sitting in his parents’ pristine kitchen, jean jacket askew, earring flashing in the low light, while Steve makes him a cup of coffee, is…surreal. Made strange by just how mundane it is. How domestic. 

And keeping his hands busy doesn’t stop his mind from wandering. Or doing fucking wind sprints. So many new places to go, so little time.

Billy is sitting on the island in the middle of the room, watching. And it feels like the little pile of mangled flowers next to him is staring too.

“So, uh, you can sleep here. If you want. There’s a spare room,” Steve says as he hands a mug over. Their fingers brush and he tries not to fixate on it. Or think about where else Billy could sleep. 

No, fuck it, he’s thinking about it. Billy in his bed. Billy’s hands on him. How he looked after basketball practice, sweaty and shirtless, muscles taut, blue eyes burning through Steve. The showers afterwards. Wanting to know what Billy tastes like. 

The thoughts aren’t new, but letting them play out is. It’s equal parts terrifying and thrilling.

“What are you doing, Harrington?” Billy asks quietly.

Steve blinks. Thinking about you naked, doesn’t seem like an appropriate answer so he flounders, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of anything other than tanned skin and golden curls. “...Nothing?” 

Smooth. Real smooth. 

He mentally kicks himself. Closes his eyes briefly and tries to get his shit together.

Billy’s got a thumbnail between his teeth, his gaze fixed on Steve, intent. There’s a question in his eyes. Uncertainty in his posture. “I mean...why are you--” He stops, lets out a frustrated sigh, and puts his coffee down. “What do you get out of this? I--I picked flowers for you, man. Half expected you to try and kick my ass again but now you’re, what, being charitable, or something?” 

Steve makes several big decisions in a short amount of time. He takes a step forward, inches away from standing between Billy’s knees. “I like it when you’re nice to me. When you look at me like I matter. I’m not being charitable, I’m just…” 

Making a fool of myself, probably.

But Billy’s got that vulnerable look again, mouth soft and eyes wide. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always been annoyingly gorgeous, all stormy eyes and sharp teeth, alluring like only a dangerous thing can be, but this… looking at him like this makes Steve ache.

“When have I ever been nice to you?” Billy half-laughs, it’s weak and watery. 

Steve grins, watches Billy track the motion. “You have your moments.” He steps forward again. It’d be so easy to put his hands on Billy’s thighs from here, standing between them. He wants to. So badly his fingers twitch. 

“...Steve?”

He inhales, slow, steadying. And exhales. Waiting isn’t going to make this any easier to say, but he can’t help taking a moment to collect himself. To panic. And think of all the ways it could go wrong. 

“Can I touch you?”

A sharp intake of breath is the only response he gets at first. Billy’s eyes go wide, and Steve can practically see the gears turning in his head. The whiskey haze seems to have mostly faded by now, his guard goes up faster than it would have otherwise. 

So, Steve waits. 

Slowly, hesitantly, Billy nods. 

He gives Billy the opportunity to change his mind, to pull away, moves carefully and deliberate so it’s clear what he’s doing. 

Before he even makes contact Billy’s eyes darken, and his hands shoot up to grab ahold of Steve’s wrists, but instead of pushing him off he tugs Steve closer. Suddenly they’re pressed together, Billy’s legs around his waist, clutching Steve’s hands to his chest.

“If you’re gonna do it, then do it, Harrington,” Billy growls, and Steve feels it as much as he hears it.

Which is...definitely something Steve didn’t know he would be into, yet there’s an undeniable flash of heat in his belly and he suppresses a shiver. He curls his fingers into the soft material of Billy’s shirt, feels the hard muscle beneath. 

Billy closes his eyes, and lets out a shaky breath.

They stay like that for a few seconds. Billy’s grip on Steve’s wrists slackens, but stays, thumbs tracing circles in Steve’s skin while he feels Billy’s heartbeat beneath his hands. His pulse is racing.

Steve leans forward, buries his face in the crook of Billy’s neck. He’s trapped their hands between them, put his elbows at a slightly awkward angle, but doesn’t care enough to move, not when he’s breathing in Billy’s scent. The faint chlorine smell clinging to the golden curls tickling his forehead, cologne and cigarette smoke on his clothes, and under it all something indescribably Billy, sharp and musky, oddly comforting.

“I like you,” Steve murmurs. It’s easier to talk like this. When he doesn’t have to make eye-contact. He can just talk, without worrying about anything else. What to do with his hands, where to look, what his face is doing while he speaks. What Billy might be thinking. “The flowers were nice. No one’s ever done something like that for me. And if I’d known you wanted me to stop you from leaving, I would have. I would’ve.” 

Billy wriggles his hands out from between them, and puts a hand on Steve’s cheek to guide his face upwards, until he’s looking into Billy’s eyes. His gaze is searching, roaming Steve’s face looking for answers. “I don’t know what I did to make you think that you…” he pauses, furrows his brow. “I wanted you the second I saw you, but… I don’t deserve you.”

He doesn’t let go though. Leaves his hand where it is, his thighs still warming Steve’s sides. 

Steve shrugs. “But you have me.”

It’s unclear which of them leans in first. Steve’s not too concerned with the technicalities anyways, not when he’s got Billy’s tongue in his mouth. He kisses like a man starved. No holding back, no hesitation. Steve is overwhelmed in the best way possible, weak in the knees and holding on for dear life. 

When they finally come up for air Steve’s fingers are tangled in Billy’s hair (he’s not sure when that happened), and he’s half-hard in his jeans. Billy is too, he can feel it pressed against his stomach. 

It takes a lot of self-control to keep from grinding against him, finding out what Billy looks like when he comes, what kind of noises he can coax out of him.

Because as much as he wants all of that, and more, he’s still barely comfortable admitting that. He’s scared of what all this means. Of the fact that he made some pretty big declarations and meant every word of it. Now it’s out there, and he doesn’t know where to go from here.

However, what comes out of his mouth is a breathless, “Come to bed with me?” and it takes his brain a second to realize exactly how that sounded. When he does, he panics. Pulls back as far as he can without actually stepping out of Billy’s embrace. “I mean-- shit-- I meant that but, not-- not like that-- I--”

Billy silences Steve by putting a finger to his lips. There’s an amused glint in his eye, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I got you, pretty boy. No worries.”

Getting ready for bed together is...an experience. Steve tripping over himself trying to act normal and Billy completely unable to keep a straight face. Steve’s pretty sure he’s never seen Billy smile this much. It’s got him feeling weirdly proud of himself. Giddy, like a kid passing notes to his crush, with a heart full of bubbles and his stomach in knots. 

Actually laying in bed, side by side, is incredibly awkward for a long few seconds, before Steve rolls over and throws an arm across Billy’s chest. He shuffles closer, letting Billy tuck his arm under him, around his waist. 

He doesn’t want to sleep. Not yet. So, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “You’ve read The Hobbit?”

Billy laughs, startled. “I mean...yeah. Why?”

Steve grins against Billy’s shoulder. “No reason. Tell me what else you’ve read.”

They lay like that for a while, talking quietly until they’re too tired to keep their eyes open. Steve drifts off first, listening to Billy talk, content in a way he hasn’t been in a long time.

[marci11e]

I mean...7 is always a classic!! Can’t not do that one lmao ❤️

7. “we’re assigned to this mission in which we have to pretend to be a married couple, but i’m actually really in love with you” // word count: 2k+

“Say it.”

“I love you, Andrew.” A relaxed smile spread over Lance’s face. “You’re the love of my life.” The words come sweet and steady, as if they were coated in sunlight.

Keith faltered at that, couldn’t open his mouth. His mind went all over as he squeezed his assignment file just a little tighter. He’s too good- for this? for-

“And, scene.” Lance took a bow, and stood up. “So, as you could see from that, I’ll be okay in expressing verbal affection.” He held his file to his chest. “Now, are we physically affectionate?”

Keith blinked, and quickly loosened his grip. “I’m sorry?”

Lance cocked his head to the side. “Well, if we’re married, then we should have a sort of rhythm. You know, are we touchy? Do we hold hands? Do we have pet names? Do we kiss in front of others?”

Keith felt like he should be losing years off his life for having to go through this. Curse Pidge. “I see. We should draw a line- no kissing.” Are you sure? His mind supplied. “Yeah.”

“Smart.” Lance tapped a couple of fingers to his temple as he smiled. “So we’re not the type for PDA- would make sense. You don’t seem like the type.”

How would you know? Keith thought, his heart skipping a beat. He’s right, but it didn’t matter. “As for pet names, I couldn’t care less.” He looked off, wondering how in the hell it’d come to this- after so many months of just being around him.

“Really?”

No. “Really.”

“Ok, so babe is okay?”

More than- “Just said I don’t care.”

Lance shrugged. “Just saying- it’s best to talk about this before, you know, infiltrating the wedding. Just so, you know, there are no surprises.” He took a few steps in Keith’s direction, stopping a few steps away. “No falling in love with me as a result of a term of endearment.” Lance smiled a small smile, and gently tapped his file against Keith’s chest.

“This is a mission- that won’t be happening.” Keith hoped the pounding of his heart couldn’t be heard. “Now come on- we have to get ready.”

“You got it.”

Some time later, after trying not to stare, Keith headed off first and Lance stood next to him as the elevator doors closed.

As the elevator descended, Keith felt the nausea of it. He shut his eyes, and leaned against the wall.

“Andrew? You okay?”

Keith’s head swam as he opened his eyes. He turned to find ocean blue eyes looking at him, with all the care in the world. He merely nodded- this was the job. He was Andrew Rinton. And next to him was his husband, David Rinton. 

Married three years, dated two. 

Five altogether. 

Five years.

They could do this.

He could do this.

—-

He couldn’t do this.

Standing at the reception, the question rang in his ears. 

How’d you meet? 

“Actually, I tell it better.” Lance swooped in, and without warning, intertwined his fingers with Keith’s. “It goes like this…”

As Lance dazzled the partygoer, Keith let his eyes wander, to see if the target was anywhere. Male, tall, long silver hair. Name: Lotor. Rumored to be with “-and it’s been a dream, hasn’t it, sweetheart?”

Keith swiveled back, hoping it seemed smooth. “Really has.” He smiled, and looked over at Lance. “I love him...so much.” He hadn’t realized he’d paused until he finished. He glanced away, and then back.

“That’s so sweet.” The woman smiled, and cradled her champagne glass. “How do you know the bride and groom?”

Lance was too busy watching Keith out of the corner of his eye to respond.

Keith registered the quiet, for some reason, and met the woman’s gaze. “Ah, went to school with them a little bit ago.”

“Must’ve been quite a time.” She took a sip, and then swirled her glass. “So, what-”

Keith didn’t know if he was imagining it, but he thought, just maybe, Lance was squeezing his hand just a little tighter- 

“Pardon me, but we have to leave this lovely conversation.” Lance nodded, smiled a charming smile, and then tugged Keith away. They pulled through partygoers and eventually came to the outside of the building, a few feet from the corner.

They stood there, and Keith could feel a thudding in his chest. 

“Looks like everything’s in place for the shipment.”

There was the clicking of the briefcase, and some murmuring that Keith couldn’t make out.

“Excellent. See you back inside.” There’s the start of footsteps against gravel, heading out.

Shit.

“We’ll keep in touch.” Lotor laughed, and there was a rustling. Then, footsteps.

Shit, shit-

It was then that Keith registered Lance had a hold on his shoulders, pushing him against the wall. He made eye contact, and-

“Sorry,” Lance breathed, and kissed Keith.

Keith caught a brief glimpse of Lotor passing by, sparing only a glance as he passed. But, his eyes fluttered shut, and for some reason, the kiss lasted longer than it should have. He counted the seconds in his head, and pressed his lips into a thin line once Lance pulled away. 

“Sorry,” Lance repeated, and looked off. “Looks like we’re in the-”

“What was that?”

Lance looked back at him. “What?”

“That?” Keith could feel his heart going wild. “Where you, you know-” kissed me? He couldn’t finish.

Lance pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, and then drew it away. “Cover. Besides, we’re supposed to be married-”

“What was the point?” Keith let it slip, and pressed his fingertips to his temples, as though shielding his face. “Why-”

“Didn’t want them to know we were eavesdropping.” Lance’s voice bled blue in the night. “Now, come on. We should head back and make our report.” He started walking toward the door.

Keith covered his face. No, no. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. This? He uncovered his face slowly, and studied his fingertips. 

It was only ever supposed to be an if. 

But it’s not. Not anymore.

“Lance, wait.”

“Lance? As in Lance McClain, famous spy?” 

Keith stilled, and prepared to spin around when he felt the barrel of a gun press to the small of his back. 

“Oh, dear. Can’t have that, now can we.” There’s a crackle, and the voice spoke. “Confirm that McClain’s here- I’ve got- what’s your name?”

“It’s-”

The loud ringing of a shot interrupted Keith. The person behind stumbled, and the gun fell to the gravel. Keith, in the heat of the moment, felt his stomach, back, checking for the wound- there was none.

He looked at his hands- clean.

There was screaming from inside, and someone came at him and grabbed his wrist. He reacted, and threw a punch. The person let out an “Ow, Jesus!” but held on. It wasn’t until Keith had pulled back his fist that he realized he’d just punched...Lance.

“I-”

“No time for talking. Just run!” Lance threw the words behind him, and moved his hand so that it was holding Keith’s.

Keith didn’t bother responding. He let his legs do the talking.

Before they knew it, they were well in the garden behind the event. There was the murmur of guests, but it kept dying and dying until Keith decided far enough was far enough. He stopped, and disentangled his fingers from Lance’s. “It’s- we can stop now.”

Lance stopped a few feet away, and took quick breaths. “Okay.”

Keith blinked, letting the events beforehand play out again in his head. “Did you shoot the-”

“Did I save your life?” Lance produced his gun, and shook it a little. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Jesus, put that- put that away.”

“No thank you?”

“Can you wait a second?” Keith turned his body away, and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Uh, not really. Not after you blew our cover.”

Keith stiffened at that. 

Lance, wait.

“I mean, that’s academy stuff, Keith-”

“Shut up.”

“You almost died, okay-” Lance’s voice raised, unmistakably. 

Ignoring that, Keith spun around, and looked dead on at Lance. “That’s not fair. It’s not my-” He gritted his teeth. “Okay, sure. I said your name. But we had the- the rule, and you broke it.”

Lance hooked his gun to his side and groaned. “Look, they would’ve gotten both of us, and then we’d really be in trouble. I mean, we probably already are, but...we’re in less trouble- for now.”

Keith felt his blood go hot. “Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“You-” Keith pointed a finger, jabbing the air. “You’re-”

Lance held out his hands. “Say it.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“I’m not a mind reader, okay?” 

“I’m in love with you!” Keith slapped both of his hands over his mouth right after, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He cursed himself out in his head, and he sank into a squat. 

Fuck.

The odd quiet of night filled the space between them. There was a gentle wind that skimmed the tops of the hedges, and the sort of sound of crickets. 

Perfect, Keith thought. Just perfect.

The sound of footsteps across the grass stopped right before him. There was a rustling, and a slight gust of wind. “Keith.”

“...You really don’t have to say anything.” He felt like he was burning, and twitched when he felt a hand on each of his wrists.

“Look. Gonna need you to look at me for this.”

Keith sighed a little, and raised his head. He fell back onto the ground when he saw Lance sitting cross-legged in front of him. “Why-”

Lance laughed a little. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you right here?”

Lance gently brought Keith’s hands closer, and brought them to his left cheek. He pressed Keith’s right knuckles to it. “Ah, perfect fit- these are the knuckles that hit me a little while ago.” 

Keith flushed, and as he danced between the decision to move them away, he was too late.

Lance drew Keith’s hands close, and pressed a gentle kiss to Keith’s knuckles.

That’s when Keith moved, and brought his hands to his chest, holding them close. “What was that for?”

“For thinking I wasn’t in love with you when I am.”

Keith froze.

Lance put his hands on his legs. “You want to know something? I’m the one who requested to work this case with you. Maybe even joked about the husbands thing, but Pidge must’ve known more than I thought.” He laughed a little. “But...I think it really clicked when you were held at gunpoint back there.”

And you punching me kind of...just felt like a sign from the universe. Granted, not the best.”

Keith did his best to breathe evenly, and to not blink, as if that would wash away the moment too soon. He felt a swell of warmth in his chest. “It might bruise.”

“Calling yourself strong?” Lance cracked a smile, and looked down.

“It might bruise,” Keith repeated, “so, I should kiss it better.” He smiled, a little. “Right?”

Lance looked back up, almost startled. “I-”

“Why do you look so flustered?” Keith couldn’t help himself- he moved so that he was mirroring Lance’s position.

“Didn’t expect that so...fast. From you.”

Keith laughed a small laugh. “I literally just blurted the worst confession ever known. You know, about being in love with you?”

“Ah- right.” Lance took a shaky breath. “Just...taking it all in.”

Keith cupped Lance’s cheek, and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on his face. He drew back. “There. Should hold for a bit.”

Lance blinked. “I think I’ve loved you ever since our second stakeout.”

Keith blinked in surprise, then felt a smile spread slowly across his face. “You said that night was anything but a bonding moment.”

Lance turned his head to the side, looking off into the night. “Couldn’t let on. Sorry.”

“You’ve apologized to me several times tonight.” Keith slid his hand under Lance’s chin, and pulled him back. “You could start making it up to me.” He spared a glance at Lance’s lips, and then looked back at him. “What do you say?”

Lance said nothing.

He simply leaned forward, the smallest smile gracing his lips.

Keith couldn’t stop thinking about it as he, Keith (not Andrew), kissed Lance (not David). He smiled at the thought of husbands- something not true at the moment, but tonight was only tonight.

Tomorrow might be something else entirely.