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sashaisready · 3 months ago

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Starting Over: Chapter 5 - Better

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Hi! I'm sorry this took so long, work has been kicking my bum lately and I haven't had much writing time. But it's here - the final part! I hope you like it. Thanks to everyone who has reblogged/commented/engaged with this story - it means so much. Thank-you!!

💔

One week later…

You were cleaning tables when you glanced at the diner’s clock and realised it was almost 9am. Friday was here once again…

…Would he be in as usual?

It was raining heavily outside, throughout the early shift your regulars had rushed in and shaken the sogginess off their coats and umbrellas once they were safely over the threshold of the diner. You’d chatted with them, commiserating with them about ‘this damn weather’ and promising to warm them up with coffee and breakfast.

You’d spent your time off this last week popping into the hospital to see Lou. He was doing well, making progress, but the road to recovery was long. He needed to make major adjustments to his lifestyle and potentially engage in physical therapy as they think he’d also had a small stroke. He got his personal mail delivered to the diner and asked you to open it and keep him updated with anything pressing. The medical bills you’d seen were already dizzying and his insurance only covered part of it, but you couldn’t bother him what that just yet – he didn’t need the stress on top of everything else. You’d figure it out. You always did.

Lou had made you acting manager to pick up the slack while he was gone. You were pulling extra hours, working overtime to ensure the ship remained afloat while the captain remained on the shore. It was tough, but you couldn’t deny you loved the buzz of being in charge – of keeping everything moving.

You hadn’t seen Bucky since that night at the hospital. He’d insisted on driving you home after you’d said goodbye to Lou, ignoring your protests that the subway was perfectly fine…

“The subway, doll? Fuck no. Not on my watch”.

You’d rolled your eyes, knowing you didn’t have the energy to fight him after the evening you’d had. He knew it too. You’d merely sighed and hopped into the back of his SUV as you gave him your new address, giving a little wave to Clint who was driving.

The two of you sat in the back in silence for the entire journey, you watched the city flying past you from the window and it felt strange that the outside world was just continuing around you like normal while yours had almost collapsed.

The car rolled to a stop in front of your building, and you turned to Bucky. He seemed to be studying you carefully, concern drawn across his features. Even after all this time and distance, the beauty of his face still took your breath away at times.

“Thank-you…for the ride. For dinner. For showing up…all of it,” you said softly.

He nodded stoically, “always. Look…no matter what happens between us, I’ll always show up for you if you need me. Any time, any place. And Lou is going to be just fine, alright?”

Almost instinctively you found your hand sliding across the leather of the seat towards him. He looked down as your hand moved to find his. You clasped your fingers around his metal digits, the cool sensation against your skin was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. They in turn wrapped around yours and the two of you sat holding hands for a short while. You didn’t speak or look at each other, just both existing in the moment and concentrating on the feeling of your hands entwined. You paused, wanting to say more – but unable to quite find the words.

Eventually you couldn’t bear the strange tension in the air. You gently withdrew your hand and cleared your throat as you shuffled across the seat towards the door.

“Well, thanks again. And for the ride, too”.

“Anytime. Nice building…” he peered out of the window at your apartment block.

“Ah yeah, thanks,” you said proudly.

“You doing okay, living there?” he asked quizzically in his Brooklyn-lilt, his brows furrowed.

“Mm…I mean, it’s not as fancy as your place,” you chuckled, “it’s kinda cramped and small, but it’s cosy and warm. And it’s mine,” you told him with fondness.

He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “My place was yours too, you know”.

You chewed on your lip, you hadn’t intended it as a slight against him. “I-I know Buck…but…you know what I meant”.

He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah…that’s good. I’m pleased for you, really”. His nose crinkled as he looked at you fondly. It was a little mannerism of his that you’d missed.

You shared a small smile before getting out of the car and heading inside. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look back at the car, a storm of emotions fighting to escape you. Your fatigue mixed with your anxieties about Lou, confusion about this sudden shift with Bucky now swelling. You could tell from the quiet behind you that the car hadn’t pulled away yet, no doubt waiting until you were safely off the street. You put your key in the door and quickly moved inside.

That was last week. You hadn’t spoken to him since, although you’d wondered if you should reach out. You thought he might’ve been in touch – a text, a call, but nothing. It was nice, he was leaving the ball in your court and not crowding you, respecting the boundaries you’d established. But part of you couldn’t shake the small sense of disappointment that lingered, too.

The fact was you couldn’t deny that something was stirring. Bucky, who you’d long written off and blacklisted for his betrayal, had started to be on your mind more and more. He had crept back into your brain.

You didn’t believe the old adage that time healed all wounds, but it had certainly helped. The space you’d had from him a year on from the incident had allowed you to find yourself again, the parts that you hadn’t realised you’d lost after diving headfirst into your relationship with Bucky. You still felt immense pain when you thought about what happened…but you also thought about how he had been true to his word. He hadn’t tried to force you back, not aggressively pursuing you or trying to talk you round. His weekly mornings at the diner had never felt pointed or manipulative. You believed that he was just happy to have you in his life, like he’d said. You’d since found your own place, started therapy and looked at your own issues, thrown yourself into work. Remembered who you were before you were ‘mob boss girlfriend’. You knew that what had happened with Bucky was not your fault, it wasn’t your job to reflect and change accordingly – that was all his. But still, having the space and time to work on yourself…it was refreshing. One small silver lining on this ugly, black cloud.

You’d also been on a few dates over the last few months. Nothing to write home about. A few nice guys, a few less than nice guys. Nothing had truly sparked for you; nobody had piqued your interest enough to want to really explore more than a few dinners or coffees. Maybe it was because of how things ended with Bucky, or you just hadn’t met someone right for you, or maybe you were just off dating altogether…But it wasn’t something you felt real enthusiasm for at this point. But that was okay. It had been fun to dip your toe back in the dating pool, and you weren’t averse to trying again when the moment was right, or you met the right person.

Unless of course, it was because someone else was on your mind.

Your slow burn friendship with Bucky had crept on you, taken you by surprise. The man who had once broken your heart now had a new place in your life. It was strange, but in some ways, you knew him better than you had when you were together. Despite your previous connection - your conversations had opened territory up you’d never covered together before, previously too caught up in passion and heat to dive as deeply as you had now.

And most importantly, he had shown up for you that night at the hospital, been there for you without you needing to ask. He had brought you dinner and stayed by your side without a word, because he knew you needed not to be alone – needed support. You were touched by his care for you, his willingness to clear his schedule for you at the drop of a hat. It meant a lot. It meant everything. He had intuited how you felt and acted immediately. He was there.

You didn’t know what it meant, if anything. Something had changed, the safe barrier of diner breakfast chats had been crossed. Part of you was panicking – no! Don’t let him get close, not again! Remember what he did! But another part of you had missed him deeply, longed to hold him again and wake up to him each morning. Your thoughts were a spiralling mass of contradictions and conflict, nothing made sense.

You weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what happened.

But could you try?

Roscoe snapped you out of your thoughts as he passed you the latest batch mail on his way by. You thanked him, flicking through the junk mail until your attention was caught by the hospital logo on one of the envelopes. You winced, tentatively ripping open the paper as you braced yourself for the latest bill.

You cursed under your breath as you unveiled the total figure, a stupid amount of money. You spiralled as it sank in, wondering if Lou would have to sell the diner in order to settle his debt. You knew he didn’t have anywhere near enough in his savings. You thought about all the jobs that could be at stake, including yours, and your heart ached most of all knowing that the restaurant was Lou’s baby. It would break him to give it up.

Maybe you could call them, sort out a payment plan…something?

You tried to calm yourself down, thinking about what your therapist would say about your immediate jump to the worst-case scenario. Relax. You can fix this. Remember your mindfulness exercises. Life would find a way.

The opening of the front door pulled you from your catastrophising. You glanced over, making eye contact with a rather damp Bucky as he entered the diner. He sighed, shaking the rain from his coat as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“A lovely morning…” he muttered, deadpan.

You smiled, stuffing the hospital bill into your apron pocket and going to grab the coffee jug, “Morning, Buck. Get a little wet?”

“A little,” he gruffed, slotting himself into his usual booth.

You chuckled as you filled up his mug.

“How’s Lou?” he asked, shaking the rain from his hair.

“He’s doing better, thanks for asking. They’ve got a whole treatment plan worked out for him - so that’s positive”.

“Good. Glad to hear. You over here running the show while he’s out?”

“Something like that,” you smiled, then shuffled on your feet as you realised you needed to talk to him. “Bucky, I-”

A loud clatter and exclamation from the kitchen cut you off, causing you both to look over at the disturbance. You sighed with exasperation.

“Ah. Duty calls…I’ll put your order in while I’m in there”.

You rushed off to sort out whatever mess waited for you in the kitchen as Bucky smiled playfully at your annoyance.

He noticed something had fallen out of your apron as you dashed off. A piece of paper. He leaned over to pick it off the floor for you in case you needed it. Before he realised it was private and had a chance to look away, his eyes were immediately drawn to the monstrous sum at the bottom of the page. Ah. He grimaced as he quickly put two and two together, folding the paper neatly and leaving it on the table. He took a sip of his coffee.

You appeared a little while later with his order, sighing heavily as you placed the plate in front of him.

“Sorry about that…Roscoe and Ron were fighting about if the bacon was too crispy, and some trays got caught up in the carnage. Never a dull moment around here…”

You suddenly noticed the paper on the table, your words trailing off as your eyes locked onto it. You snatched it away quickly, shoving it into your apron.

“That’s not…that’s-” you floundered, embarrassed for him to have seen it.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop. You dropped it, so I picked it up and then realised what it was,” he explained softly.

“It’s fine. I’m dealing with it,” you shrugged, desperate to appear nonchalant.

“Sit down, doll”, he said sternly.

You scoffed, “Bucky…I’m busy running a restaurant here…”

He paused, looked up and bellowed across the diner, “Roscoe! Ron! Handle things while your boss takes a break!”

You rolled your eyes, turning to see Roscoe and Ron nodding furiously as they scattered and suddenly started working harder than you’d ever seen them. They had always been afraid of Bucky. You stifled a laugh.

“Problem solved, now sit,” he gestured.

You reluctantly sat down opposite him, “Bucky…”

“We’re gonna talk”.

“I don’t need-”

“No. Let’s do this”, he said sternly.

You folded your arms in front of you, fully aware that you resembled a petulant teenager but not caring enough to stop.

Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of his coffee before picking up the letter. “Now, I don’t want to overstep…but I can take care of this you know…”

You shook your head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but no,” you told him firmly.

“Alright. That’s fine. So, Lou has enough to cover it?” he asked, “all of it?”

You nodded a bit too quickly, “mmhmm”.

Bucky caught it immediately, your lie. You noticed the quirk of his brow and the subtle rubbing of his lips together. Damn him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sipped his coffee again and ate a few forkfuls of his meal, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and tilted his head quizzically. “Guess it’s all wrapped up, then”.

You nodded again in agreement, but knew he wasn’t done.

He took his time, casually taking a few more bites of his breakfast and sipping his coffee. You knew his relaxed demeanour was a careful façade…you had somehow found yourself at the centre of a famed Bucky Barnes interrogation.

You tried to appear relaxed, as if you had nothing more to add.

“Because…” he started.

Ugh.

“…because, if he didn’t have enough. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”

“Mmm. It would. But it’s not…so…”

“Right”, he cut you off. “But if he didn’t – great eggs today by the way – if he didn’t, that would be putting this place at risk, right? All the staff here and their jobs. Your job?”

“Right,” you replied, your voice a little strained.

“And of course Lou himself…he loves this place. It’s his baby. I’m sure he’d be devastated if he had to give it up to pay his medical bills. Especially as the last thing he needs right now is more stress and financial worries on top of his ill health”. He paused again to eat, not even looking up.

You nodded; your eyes now slightly cloudy now.

“Yep…” you said meekly.

He looked up at you, his eyes intensely locked onto yours, gesturing towards you with the fork. He was in full swing now. The diner suddenly felt much hotter, you could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on your forehead and the back of your neck.

“And I hope it would be known, if that was the case of course, that my offer would have no strings attached. Because I could imagine someone might decline it out of pride, or concern that it would have conditions and that person would then be in some sort of debt to me…either financially or emotionally. And if that was the case, I’d want to reassure them that it would only be a friend looking out for a friend, helping because I want to, and I can, and God knows I should do something nice once in a while to even out my moral scales…”

The barrier broke and your tears finally escaped, the stress about Lou and this intimidating bill, and your confusion about how you felt for Bucky, all finally coming to the surface. You cupped your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed.

“I’m sorry, I just…I…”

Bucky moved like lightning, whipping around to your side of the booth as he swung in next to you.

“Hey…hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to be clear what my offer entailed; but I understand why you’d be reluctant to accept my help”.

He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and tenderly wiped away your tears.

“It wouldn’t be a loan, doll, and you wouldn’t need to make nice with me to say thanks. You could call me an asshole and dump these eggs on my head, and I’d still pay in full with a smile. There’s no expectation here, no contract – legal or implied”.

You sniffed, looking up at him blearily, “you’d really do all that for me…but…why?”

He paused, then very delicately used his thumb to collect the tears forming at the side of your eye.

“You know why,” he said plainly.

Your heart panged, and you looked down at your hands in your lap, clutching at one of the now-soggy napkins he’d given you. You sniffed again as you regained your composure, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments and you were so desperate to tell him everything, but you couldn’t form the words. You hoped he would elaborate and fill in that gap for you, but he didn’t.

He quietly got up, putting on his coat and placing some bills down on the table to cover his check. He leaned over and kissed you on the crown of your head, then used a finger to tilt your chin up to look at him.

“You don’t have to decide anything now,” he told you as he looked into your eyes, “Think it over. I’ll be back here next week like always”.

He smiled at you, then disappeared out into the street. You heard the roaring of the rain outside as the diner door opened, the little bell above the frame chiming to announce his departure.

You missed him already.

You looked down at the hospital bill in your hands, the total at the bottom practically screaming from the page.

He’d hurt you so badly, you weren’t sure if you could ever fully forgive him for that fateful night. You understood it had been his insecurities, you understood he had lashed out after he thought his worst fears were realised – but that had only even explained his actions, not justified them.

Although…he’d always been there over the last year. Slow and steady, but he’d taken the time to rebuild his relationship with you platonically. He’d let you manage the pace, never tried to force anything more than you were willing to give him.

…and he’d been there for you.

He continued to be there for you.

It wasn’t about the money. He wasn’t trying to pay you off to win favour. He was just trying to be there for you, and this was something he had the power and resources to help you with.

He was your friend.

He loved you. He’d continued to love you…

“Are you back off break, boss?” Roscoe rudely interrupted your train of thought, “Ron said that the fryer-”

You were pulling off your apron before your brain could even catch up with your body.

“Nope,” you shot back, firing out of the booth at full speed as you tossed the apron at him on your way out, “a little longer…”

You left Roscoe gawping in your wake as you sailed through the front door. You yelped in shock as you stepped out into the downpour, you’d forgotten about the mini storm happening beyond the restaurant doors. It was so dark outside it looked more like early evening than the morning hours. You looked down at your immediately soaked uniform, your work shoes flooding as you traipsed through the puddles…

Focus!

You surveyed the street, your eyes catching a brief glimpse of the SUV turning the corner. The instantly recognisable JBB107 plates drawing your focus in the split second before they vanished.

And so you ran.

You sprinted after the SUV waving your arms, shouting for it to stop. A concerned elderly lady asked if you were okay but you sailed on by. You must’ve looked utterly insane.

You rounded the corner and rushed up behind the SUV as it slowed. The back door flew open, and Bucky suddenly appeared out of it, a look of horror on his face as the vehicle pulled over.

“Doll! Jesus Christ, what the- are you okay??” he shouted to you as you approached.

You didn’t answer, just flung yourself inside the car as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid across the seat to give you room. The divider screen was up so you couldn’t see the driver. One less person to witness your mortifying display, at least.

“Fuck…you must be freezing,” he muttered as he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and leaning over to close the car door behind you.

You were, your teeth chattered. Your hair was wet and matted, your uniform soaked through.

“Bucky…” you said hoarsely as you dripped all over his plush car interior.

“What is it, doll?” he asked, his eyes wide and alarmed, “what’s going on??”

You couldn’t find the words so you acted purely on instinct, you cupped his face and kissed him. Kissed him hard. Kissed him longingly. He caught up quickly and kissed you back, his fingers tangled in your soaking hair. It was desperate, messy. Your teeth clashed and your cheeks bumped. It had been so long that you’d lost each other’s rhythm with this. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You couldn’t have waited any longer.

He pulled away, gawping at you incredulously as he held your face in his hands.

“Doll…does this mean?”

“Let’s go slow,” you whispered, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. The effort you’ve put into rebuilding us from the ground up…for being my friend…for never pushing me…for Lou…but I’m not sure I’m ready to jump into this headfirst…whatever this is…”

He nodded, “of course, anything you want”.

“I’m not sure if I can…fully forgive. But I want to try,” you told him softly as you pressed your forehead to his.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as he sighed. A sigh of long held tension, of relief.

“Thank-you for giving me a chance…I didn’t think you ever would again,” he admitted.

“Yeah…well neither did I,” you laughed,

“What changed your mind?”

“Well…. how you showed up for me with Lou has made me rethink a lot of things. Plus…the money”.

He laughed, “the money? Really? This whole time I just needed to pay you off?”

“No…”, You rolled your eyes, “it was more that you offered, but you didn’t force anything, and you made it clear it was no strings attached. It’s like…you want to help me, but you trust me to make my own decisions and don’t just try and fix it all for me, like you used to. I just…it made me realise how much I’ve missed you. But it’s gotta be different this time…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…like…I want to stay in my apartment. And I want to keep my job,” you said firmly.

He nodded, “yeah. Of course”.

“Maybe I’d move back in with you one day…but I want my space”.

“Okay. You got it,”.

You smiled, “yeah?”

He smiled back at you, the smile that still made you weak at the knees. “Doll? If it means you’re by my side…Of course ‘yeah’. Anything you want. And I have some conditions too…”

“What?” you frowned. “This isn’t exactly a two-way negotiation, Buck…”

“Just…listen. They’re conditions for me. I promise I’m going to trust you entirely, and to communicate you with you properly – not let my emotions get the best of me. I’m a different man to who I was the last time we were together. I know how lucky I am to get this second chance with you. I’m not fucking it up. I'm gonna be...better”.

He spoke earnestly with such conviction that it was almost aggressive. You nodded gently, squeezing his hand. You believed him.

“Alright…well, let’s give it a shot, shall we?”

He grinned, “I can’t believe you’re here…”

“Me neither. But…I’m sorry I’m dripping rainwater all over your car”.

He shrugged. “Fuck the car”.

And then he kissed you again.

Maybe you did believe in happy endings.

THE END

There we have it! I hope you liked where it went. I know some of you didn't think she should ever forgive him and I understand, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed! But in my eyes he had shown her he was willing to change...and she wasn't trying to rush back into anything heavy. Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story, please consider supporting me with my Ko-Fi link 💐

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic #sebastian stan

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sheepispink · 3 months ago

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The Perfect Pair

Masterlist AO3

WC: 7.6k Tags: fluff, marriage of convenience, leon kennedy/ reader

Summary: Leon can barely hold himself upright most days and you've finally decided to ditch the DSO life in pursuit of happiness. However, that'd mean leaving all those beautiful tax benefits and medical insurance behind. Turns out Leon and Chris are pretty persuasive, landing you as Leon's 'wife' but you cant help but start to feel something more, unaware that Leon's already set his eyes on you for life.

It’d been a long day at work, the usual really— Chris had roped him into dealing with another bioweapon appearance, thus leading him to take a helicopter to some trashy place, locating the bioweapon, and promptly knocking its freaky nature out of action. Now he lugged his weary feet home to the apartment you shared, his stomach craving a taste of something only your skilled hands would prepare for him. After a short elevator trip that thankfully alleviated the ache of his feet for a moment, he reached the front door and, with a quick fumble with the keys he had inserted the right one inside, opening the door.

“I’m home.” He calls out, his raspy voice filling the silent yet serene space before him. He somehow grew used to this; the sight of two sets of keys on the hook, the vast difference in style as he places his shoes on the rack, and the two coats on the bannister, one far smaller than the other. “Smells good..” He mumbles beneath his breath, making his way towards the kitchen where you stand, back facing him as you work your hands through a ball of minced meat.

“Welcome home.” You turn to meet his hungry gaze with your typical warm smile, heart warming at the exhausted look on his face and even more so that he’d soon find relief in the food you had made.

“You’re lucky, we had just enough mince meat in the freezer for your favourite beef burgers.” That was a lie. You had woken up early this morning and decided he had looked far too tired recently, and it’d been far too long since he’d had his favourite meal. So, as any good wife does, you wanted to make him feel better and took to the nearest supermarket, picking up all the ingredients you needed and some for a tasty dessert too. He always denied that he enjoyed sweet treats, but he would always be the first to finish them, whether it was a sweet chocolate mousse or a tasty doughnut you picked up on the way home.

He chuckles, his hand disappearing into his work jacket as he slips off the leather and lays it on the back of a wooden chair. It then migrates to his collar, tugging on it to alleviate the heat through his body, which is proven by the thin layer of sweat covering his limbs.

“Oh? Thanks, I was sure you finished it last week when you gave Kitty a gourmet meal for once.”

This home wouldn’t be complete without its resident cat, a Siamese fur ball that Leon graciously named ‘Kitty’ though he has no doubt referred to it with a million different names anyway.

“I guess I must've missed a bit. I really treated her for nothing.” While he was smirking, your mind was far from the lightheartedness of this conversation, currently panicking over his words. He had seriously caught you out there; of course you finished the mince, last week but was he actually accusing you of lying or worse—did he know? As you let out an awkward chuckle, he speaks up again, undoing his belt with one hand as his other grabs a glass from the shelf to fill with water. “I’m not complaining though; they really are my favourites for a reason.” He drinks down the glass of water in one swig, letting out a satisfied breath before rolling his shoulders back. “I’m gonna take a quick shower—I don't want to drown your nose with my sweat.” He chuckles again, finally leaving you alone in the kitchen again as he takes his path up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

To say your relationship with him was complicated was a massive understatement; it was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, feelings that felt illicit, and signals that were impossible to decipher. Well, for you it felt like this—you’re not so sure about him. In fact, for someone who sleeps beside him nearly everyday, cooks him meals, eats dinner with him, and even drops off his lunch, you barely knew anything about the man.

This all began when you decided to quit the DSO, finally having enough money to move to a more peaceful job with flexible hours and still end up supporting yourself. You had only worked in communications at the DSO, but that was still a pain in itself. Before you left, they had an informal work dinner. A bunch of agents and other workers came along to a diner for some food before heading to mess around at a karaoke place before the weekend hit. With so many people around, it grew far too hot too quickly, and you soon wandered the halls seeking a breath of fresh air before you heard your name called by an agent. The voice belonged to Chris Redfield–your superior—who was beckoning you to come over, cigarette in hand, to where he stood with Leon right beside him. They were both your superiors in the work field but were perceived as far more important due to the missions they accomplished and lives they saved.

“Yes..?”

You were more confused than scared or anything of the like—why did they even want to talk to you? It’s not like you often saw them. Even so, you walked over to them, trying to reduce the awkwardness when you slipped your hands into the pockets of your jacket, tilting your head slightly.

“You’re gonna leave soon, right?” Leon asks, taking a swig of the golden whisky in his glass whilst Chris blows another puff of smoke off to the side.

“Yeah, I wanted to move onto a different job, a quieter one that isn't so taxing.” You shrug, having only thought out a bit of it so far.

Chris and Leon shared a glance at each other before Leon spoke once more, rolling back his shoulders a little. “You see, I have a bit of a predicament, and Chris thought you could help.”

Before you know it, he’s explaining how busy his work is and that he barely gets home in time for a sip of water before he knocks out, and you’re not really sure how this is your problem until Chris butts in.

“So basically, he needs a wife. You, on the other hand, won't have any of the perks of the DSO since you’re leaving, which includes medical insurance, tax benefits..” He trailed off as you started to ponder it, you really would lose a lot of the things you had grown to exist around. It would be very difficult to manage, and you can't say you’d miss a lot of those perks greatly. The two men give each other a glance as you speak up, nodding along. “You’re right, I will miss out a lot, but I really don't want to stay here longer..” Before Leon can even try and slide it in, Chris has already blurted it out.

“Well, you won't lose anything if you marry him.”

So, after a bunch of awkward talks and surviving interrogations from your coworkers, you ended up with a small wedding, which was mainly done to please your own parents rather than yourselves. Now you’re here, almost a year into this non formal contractual marriage, and your feelings are muddled. Very muddled. It’s hard to not catch feelings when you’re somewhat of a hopeless romantic yourself, or maybe the teenage girl mentality came back full force now you have a lot more free time. You owed him a fair amount to be fair—he didn’t realise how stress-free your life was these days. Wake up, eat a healthy breakfast, maybe watch some television too, head down to the small little bakery you own and teach the part time teenager there before wrapping up at four o'clock and heading home again. Your skin had cleared up, you were actually able to sleep in on the weekends and actually do whatever you want— pick up new hobbies, eat proper meals, and read books to your heart's content.

What you’ve concluded is that your life has drastically improved and you are more relaxed than you’ve ever been. The problem with that is that with the new addition of all this free time and air to breathe in, you’re able to actually think about the man you’ve married. In simpler terms that you tried to deny for a year now, you’ve caught feelings—a lot of feelings for him. That’s why you’re currently stuck in a conundrum; you’re technically allowed to pursue said feelings, as you’re married and no longer ‘colleagues’ needing to act professionally, but does he want the same?

The pan starts to sizzle, snapping you out of your daydreaming as you place the flattened patty into the oil, lightly frying each side. Being his wife meant looking after him as much as he did to you, so cooking was often your chore to handle. Even though you were more than happy to do most of the chores, he’d still help with the dishes after dinner and often cooked when he could—when he was exhausted from another mission. Plus, he did his own laundry. He would’ve done yours too, though after the first time he tried, your cheeks had flushed immediately when he handed you a pile of your freshly washed underwear and t-shirts, and you quickly told him you’d do your own.

The staircase groans as he steps down the stairs, his movements a lot slower now that he had let the tension ease from his muscles in the shower. So far, you’ve managed to cook four patties, which was more than enough to satisfy his stomach and yours. But you had an extra two for his lunch tomorrow and because he tended to have a third burger “just because it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.That’s when you hear him curse softly under his breath, turning back to glance at him in confusion. “What’s wrong?” His hair is damp, still dripping with water onto the white tee he wears. It’s loose and the one you bought him last month when you went on a shopping spree. You try to ignore the way your eyes naturally drift towards his chest; a small sliver of his pale skin peeks out where his hand disappears under his shirt, rubbing his abdomen in a strange way. “Did you get hurt?” You continue, turning down the heat on the hob so you can turn to face him better.

“Oh? This?”

He lifts the shirt a little, revealing the bruise on his right side of his stomach, and also gives you a perfect view of his toned abs. Damn. “It’s not as bad as it looks..” He mumbles, but his eyebrows are still knitted in a frowning gesture. “I’m annoyed because I missed an opportunity..”

That makes you blink, wondering what he could’ve missed in the time he went for his shower and came back here. Did he get a phone call? Or perhaps something happened this week you hadn't picked up on?

“An opportunity?”

“Yeah. I completely missed the chance to ask you, ‘What's cookin, Good Lookin?’. Damnit..”

Did the corniest line to ever exist really just make your chest tighten for a second?

You can’t deny the fact that the line itself had made your lips part as you stood there dumbfounded. Leon had a history with corny one-liners; in fact, whenever his colleagues happened to see you, they’d always mention whatever stupid thing he said during a mission. He’d say it to you occasionally too, usually random puns that he’d quietly snicker about, but he’d never quite openly flirt with you like that. Was it supposed to be a joke? Was it real? You couldn't tell, and so you quickly turned back around before your patties ended up burnt.

“O-of course only you would worry more about that than your own injuries.” His snickering is obvious behind you as you place the cooked patties onto a small plate. “Stop pestering me and go sit down at the table.” You feign annoyance, grumbling as you hide the furious flush of pink upon your cheeks. Unfortunately for you, he didn’t intend to give up that easily, walking up behind you and peering over your shoulder with his hands planted on the counter on either side of your waist.

“That was a good one, c’mon.” He argues, the most exaggerated pout on his face quickly disappearing when he watches the burgers sizzle in the pan. He loves your food so damn much.

“That was not a good one, shoo.”

Thankfully, he ends up leaving you alone in favour of Kitty, who had just woken up from her nap— eager to play with him even if it just means chasing after a wrapper he had thrown across the room. You place down two plates at the table, as per usual, along with a plate full of salad, a bowl of fresh chips you fried, and the small plate of patties— six to be exact. Then, you place down the two fancy glasses you bought last week and grab your usual favourite canned drink while grabbing a Coke Zero for him. Finally, you place Kitty’s dinner on the floor which she runs over for, immediately gobbling up the food. “She’s just like you.” You giggle, watching as she hungrily wolfs down the food, thus making him groan in return. “I do not eat like that.”

Dinner is the same. You’ll ask about his day in which he usually retorts in grunts and moans about the government, incompetent workers, and that woman.. Ada. Just the mention of her name used to make him go quiet back when you worked at the DSO, and even in the first few months of your “marriage”, he would shrug off the subject quickly. Now he talks about it here and there, mentioning how she suddenly appears and always seems to know his location. For some reason, it puts a sick feeling in your stomach, like someone is dragging their nails across the flesh of your insides.

“Ada.. was there. Ever since I saved the president’s daughter, it’s like she’s followed me everywhere. She helps me.. but then she claims to not care..?”

His words stopped registering in your mind after a while as your teeth grit against each other and you absentmindedly dipped your chip into ketchup over and over again. You can’t believe he could be so naive. She had played him once in Raccoon City, faking her identity and using him to her advantage. The same played out in Spain even if she ‘saved’ him. You didn't care about her damn motives; she worked for the enemy, and it irked you—she just used whatever she could to gain her benefit, and it seemed like no one could stop her.

“Earth to my beautiful wife, hello?” He waved his hand in front of your furrowed eyebrows and the obvious scowl upon your face. “You look like you just ate something you find disgusting. I thought you liked this too.”

You immediately realise you had zoned out, your face shifting to something sheepish before you finally stick the ketchup-soaked chip into your mouth. You didn't even get a chance to process what he just called you.

“No, it’s not the food; I was just thinking. Sorry, it’s nothing.”

That only serves to make him all the more curious, though he doesn't push it, instead continuing his story. “Where was I? Oh, right, then Ada shot—” He cuts himself off as your eyes immediately narrow, and you lower your head, picking with your food again subconsciously. It doesn’t take much to piece the clues together, his lips twitching upwards as a smile threatens to spread. Though he wants to test his suspicions one more time.

“Wanna hear something crazy? Ada tried to kiss me again.”

“What?!” You immediately sit up straight, the scowl returning just as fast and teeth grit, but it quickly softens when you see the smirk on his face.

“I knew it. You hate her, don’t you?” Leon always saw right through you, thankfully not with your growing feelings yet, and it made it all the harder to keep his marriage… Well, just as a contract.

“Fine, maybe I don’t like her. So what? She’s not exactly the most moral person.” You say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as you take a bite out of your burger and chew it down. “She helps Umbrella, can you really blame me?” That only makes his lips twitch again, and he leans his elbows on the table, eyes trained on every feature of your face.

“Are you jealous of her?” That almost makes you choke on the burger, and you have to take a large gulp of your drink to swallow down the rest of the food, your face immediately pinkening. It can’t be possible—there’s no way you’re jealous of that cunning, manipulative, hot, extremely hot woman. How did she even look that good?

“Ha— she should be jealous of me.” You scoff boldly, finishing the last of your burger soon after.

“Oh, and why’s that? Because you’re the one wedded to me?

A moment earlier, your heart would’ve described his face as a perfectly carved sculpture, the ones that people bid thousands to place in their homes because not showing off such a perfect creation would be a crime. Right now, he wore a sly grin with his eyebrows raised as he eyed you suggestively.

And that look was very punchable.

“Because I'm living the dream. I’ve got a bakery, a ton of free time, and I guess you’re there too, I suppose.”

With a roll of your eyes, you dismiss his words quickly, even though the faintest blush on your cheeks betrays your true thoughts. What if you said yes? What happens then?

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t give me that satisfaction.” He feigns a pout before his grin returns as he takes a massive bite into his second burger of the night. Of course, he just has to make an exaggerated moan, one elbow leaning on the table as the other covers his face dramatically.

“This is heavenly, you know? One day I swear I'll start dreaming about these burgers.”

There he goes again, babbling on about Lord knows what and his corny lines again. You can't help but flash a small cheeky smile, winking as you pour yourself a glass of water from the pitcher.

“Another reason for her to be jealous of me.”

Once the dinner has been packed away by his speedy hands, he’s returned to make the couch his home again, stretching his whole body against the length of it like a cat would. You’re placing the dishes into your dishwasher before inserting a tablet and putting it on for three hours. As you walk over to wipe down the table, you notice his eyes have fluttered close as he groans and gets comfortable on the cushions. You can't say you didn't feel a tinge of affection—well, much more than that, like a heap almost—every time he crashed out like this, completely exhausted from a mission. “Weekend tomorrow..” You remind him with a gentle hum, swiftly removing any stray stains off the table. “Don’t you want to have a good sleep, y'know, in bed?”

He lets out a muffled grumble in response, burying his face into the cushions before he reluctantly sits up, making you smile a little more—you’d scold him regularly about lying down after eating. “What movie d’ya wanna watch?” He says even if he would usually wander his way to the bedroom after you said that. It’s been at least a month since you had been together like this to watch a movie. A lot had changed in that month, specifically your growing feelings for him. Perhaps distance really does bring fondness, you think.

“I don’t mind; you like action, no?” You finish wiping down the dirt from dinner to glance over whatever he’s doing on the television, only to find him flicking through your favourite genre of movies. Shoving down the warmth on your cheeks is near impossible as you speed walk back to the kitchen. Were these signs? Were you reading too much into it? Your teeth graze against each other nervously as you look up to see him waiting expectantly on the couch for you to join him. What the hell is happening right now? He had always gone to bed immediately or scrolled through his phone for a while— so what’s with the sudden change?

Moments later you’re sitting beside him on the couch, knees tucked to your chest as he presses play on the movie he picked—the one you had mentioned you wanted to watch when it first got announced that it was in production. Despite your excitement, you could hardly concentrate on the movie when he was practically centimetres from you. He was leaning back against the cushions, one arm resting around the back of the couch where you sat and the other comfortably against the armrest. If you had just moved your head back slightly, you would brush against his arm. If you did that, would he wrap it around your shoulders? Just the thought makes you shudder a little, your chin moving forward to sit comfortably on your knees. It was like you were a teenage girl again, sitting in the movies with your crush while you wondered if he thought of you as a friend or something more. You couldn't even believe you were acting like this—hell the two of you were married legally, not to mention you were both grown adults! Who cares if he had just stretched out his arms, his shirt riding up, and you could see the scars on his stomach? Your breath hitching when he had shuffled up to you was completely unnecessary; the warmth radiating off of him was irrelevant, no matter if the characters were kissing on the screen right now. You practically jump when he pokes your shoulder with his hand, your head snapping to him instantly, and you can barely even form a noise when you see how close his face is to yours. His eyes had to be one of your favourite things about him, or was it the messy mop of dirty blond hair on his head? It could even be the sharpness of his jawline, the lines of wear beneath his eyes, how perfectly his nose seemed to be carved, or perhaps, crazily enough, the way his voice rang out in your ears in the mornings.

“Do we have any dessert? I’m craving something sweet.”

Every step back into the kitchen is like torture from how hot your cheeks are, the cold fridge air doing nothing to soothe the embarrassment as you grab the microwave puddings you had bought today. You can't believe you had been so flustered by the proximity that all that had escaped you was a strangled noise before you just hurriedly nodded and escaped to the kitchen. Those five seconds between the poke and his words felt like a millennia— an incredibly romantically tense millennia— where for those whole five seconds, you stupidly thought he’d kiss you right then and there. You fan yourself as if that’ll soothe the metaphoric rush of warmth in your face right now, incredibly embarrassed by your own thoughts and desires. When you sit back down again, you quickly hand him the hot pudding and sit further away from him this time. If you even felt that again, you felt like you’d simply explode altogether.

Unbeknownst to you, he was now wondering if you were annoyed that he had interrupted, and he frowned as he glanced down at the plate with just a singular spoon. Weren’t you going to eat too? Not to mention, you were all stiff and sitting further from him than before—now you’re really twisting the knife in his heart. First he had agitated you by teasing you about Ada, then he laid on the couch right after dinner like you always told him not to do, and now you even refused to eat dessert! Maybe he isn't putting enough effort into all of this as he originally thought. After all, you did a lot to run a bakery in town and still cook, clean, and look after his cat. So, he decides to take a shot and scoops up a particularly chocolatey part of the pudding, the part he always eats first, and holds the spoon up to your lips.

“I know you’re mad, but you can't deny this.” He plasters his typical boyish grin, nudging your lips with the metal of the spoon. But he’s caught off guard when you pull back in surprise, waving your hands around frantically in denial. “H-huh? I ate a lot of sweet things today already—”

“Shut up. Don’t you dare even say you’re on a diet either; you’re perfect already.”

He pushes the spoon against your lips which you accidentally part in surprise at his words, the warm chocolate filling your mouth immediately like an instant boost of serotonin.

“See, it's good, told ya.” He says smugly as you swallow down the tasty pudding and sauce. That’s only for a moment before he notices the smudge of chocolate around your lips from his struggle, casually wiping away the crumbs with his thumb before licking it.

He had just wiped the crumbs.

He wiped it from your lips.

He wiped it and then licked it off his hand.

He didn't even think twice.

“I-its not bad-” That was all you could mutter out before he committed the crime, and now you were left dumbstruck as you watched him casually lick his thumb and then take another spoon of the dessert—the same spoon you just ate from. He leans back against the couch again, about to shove another in your mouth once he gets comfortable enough, though he quickly realises that you still haven’t spoken since. “You can’t still be mad; I’ll shove another one in your mouth, you know—” At that, you know you’re sure to blurt out the truth, and you scramble up, about to make an excuse about needing a glass of water, before your wrist is caught in his hand, and you’re promptly pulled back against the couch again.

��Hm? Where are you going, pink cheeks?”

He says it teasingly, instantly making you flush all the more. You couldn’t understand how anyone could even be so casual about these things, not that you had little experience in the area, but seriously— he had literally just licked the chocolate on your face. That was an indirect kiss!

“Do you do this with all your friends?” The frown on your face is suddenly a little harsher, accusing, and suddenly there's a hint of betrayal. That only serves to confuse him more, you’ve been acting off for a while now, had he cheated in his sleep or something? “What? You’re not my friend, though? That's not comparable.”

He doesn't even see you as a friend? You can't help the way your heart drops in a way you’ve never felt before in your life; it almost hurts the way he can just so easily dismiss you after all the time you’ve spent together—contractual or not. “I- I see how it is..”

“See how what is? You’re not making much sense.” His eyes narrow as you suddenly turn your head away from him, arms crossing firmly on your chest, but what doesn’t escape him is the sudden daze in your eyes. Gently, his hand grabs your chin, squashing your cheeks as he forces you to face him, and his mind instantly clicks all the pieces together.

“.. (Name).” He says firmly, making you let out a small hum in acknowledgement, unaware of the way your eyes are suddenly a lot wetter than they had been before.

“What did you drink earlier?”

“What? All I drank was water, mostly.”

“What about when I told you about Ada, was that water?” Your eyebrows furrow as you hear him repeat her name again, immediately growing more frustrated. “What about her now?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, wrapping a firm arm around your shoulders before he forces you to settle against the couch against him. “You drank some of my drink, didn't you? You were way too annoyed to even notice the whiskey I mixed in.”

The thought immediately clicks into your head; everything is suddenly a lot clearer now, even though you still weren't quite sober yet. Plus, you were pretty much a lightweight when it came to his strong stuff. It perfectly explained the warmth spreading through your chest, the uncoordinated actions, and the way nothing seemed to follow the way your head wanted it to. “S-still, you said I’m not even your friend.” Gently, his thumb rubs the tears that have formed in your eyes and tucks you close into him with his arm snugly around you. Just in case you decide to face plant off the couch as you seemed to want to do before. “You’re not my friend; you’re my wife. Who else would I treat like that?”

“I’m not your real wife though.” You slowly look up at him, turning your head, so your glossy eyes can stare up into his, searching for the right answer— the truth.

“Those papers seem pretty real to me. The way I feel is also pretty real to me.”

He grins at you like he hadn't doubted that fact for a second, and he hadn't, not since you both had signed and received the certificate, one he sometimes sneaks a small fond peek at whilst you’re sleeping. Not that he’d tell you, at least not yet.

“But— I’m not your wife; that’s my title, but I don't act like that.”

“So? I still love you as anyone would with their wife; do you really think I wouldn't fall for you? You’re even more perfect than I imagined.”

You’re momentarily stunned into silence, not quite expecting that but still not believing it quickly, your tipsy mind making you say things that you never would before.

“That's because I do everything for you— not that I mind b-but, I just act like a good partner. You don't feel romantically for me.” You huff, your teeth gritting together as you pettily narrow your eyes at him. What you hadn't considered is that he’d tuck your hair behind your ears, carefully pull you into his lap, and take one of your hands in his. He fondles your hand beneath his, his thumb rubbing gently over the skin before he brings it up to rest on his cheek, smiling fondly at you.

“I’ve been busy, I know. It’s quite hard having an agent as a partner, no? I already regret all the love I've lacked to give you.” This time, you’re positive that your cheeks are reacting to him, breath hiccuping when he turns his face in your grasp. His lips press a kiss to the palm of your hand before intertwining that hand with his and holding it against his heart.

“You just had to go get tipsy, didn't you?” The warmth of his hand on yours as he squeezes it gently is like a drug, one that squeezes your heart at the same rhythm whilst his teasing voice dances in the air around the two of you.

“Not my fault you always have to have a glass with dinner..” You grumble, not happy with how fast he had proven you wrong even if he had just confessed to his deepest feelings. He finds it quite endearing how stubborn a little bit of alcohol can make you. ”Alright, we can blame me for this one. How about you finish this pudding with me, and we can get you settled in bed, how does that sound?”

Before you know it, he’s wiping chocolate stains from your lips again as you sniffle in his lap, mumbling some nonsense about your so-called lack of lovelife while the movie plays in the background. He enjoys all your little comments about the movie, even when you subconsciously glance back at him when the couple starring do something romantic. Taking you up to bed is easy enough considering you’re only just bordering tipsy at the moment and you hardly weigh anything compared to the things he usually deals with. Your head just lolls lazily as he helps you upstairs, your eyes slowly blinking up at him when he sits you on the edge of the bed. “What pajamas do you want, pretty girl? How about your favourite?” The water he helped you drink before had sobered you up a little so you’re starting to feel better already. However, your mind is still a little hazy so you just nod along, not minding if this is the first time he undresses you.

Making sure to be gentle with you, he strips you down to your underwear before helping you pull on your warm sweatshirt and plaid pants. His lips twitched upwards when your own fingers tried to beat him with dressing yourself, finding it adorable how you still insisted on doing everything yourself. He could just put you to bed, but after watching for countless nights how you slave away at your skincare routine and keeping your teeth brushed well— he’d feel awful if he broke that. Before you know it, you’re sitting on the sink as he gently holds your jaw, his other hand using the electric toothbrush to clean your teeth. You’re a little uncooperative, swerving your head away at first until you just settle into a sleepy calm and he handles you with no problems. In no time he has you back on his lap, sitting at your small vanity as he carefully attempts to remember the order of your night time routine. What even is this? He thinks as he picks up a suspicious looking serum, labelled as snail mucin and gives it an experimental sniff. He thought it’d smell worse to be fair.

“No, you have to put the toner first and then the serum.” You mumble at him, gently tugging at his hands with your fingers and before he knows it, you have a toner pad all up in his face, wiping over his nose and cheeks before you cover the rest of his face.

“Hey- i’m meant to be doing your skincare. I don't need this stuff.”

He almost feels a pang of hurt in his chest as you raise an eyebrow at him, as if accusing him of having bad skin. With a huff, he removes the toner pad from your hands and throws it in the bin before gently pulling at your cheeks. “I have great skin, thank you. Dont give me that look.”

You immediately frown and attempt to puff your cheeks, causing him to have mercy and let go before he grabs a new toner pad and repeats your actions to yourself.

When you come back to your senses, your head is smushed against a pillow whilst he changes by the closet behind you. Your thoughts don't feel as hazy as they used to be, and you’re even starting to contemplate everything that happened earlier. Did he really mean what he meant? Did he actually like you.. romantically? You physically cringe at your own thoughts and hide your face behind your hands, groaning just quiet enough that he doesn't quite hear it. Sleeping next to him had always felt odd to you, but you always slept at different times so it never really felt romantic in any sort of way. You liked to stay up late and he liked to get a decent rest before the next morning. It was only recently that you started glancing at his sleeping face beside you, admiring the peace in his expression when he lost himself to his dreams and no other worries. Otherwise, it just felt like a roommate, nothing more nothing less.

But now his trousers were falling to the floor behind you, and you were laying in bed not quite falling asleep nor attempting to stay up. Suddenly, he wanted to sleep with you, not only beside you. It suddenly felt all too real that you two were actually married, actually partners and actually slept beside each other each night. What next, were the notes you left in his lunch romantic too? In truth, you were slightly freaking out but that might’ve been the alcohol making things a hundred times worse than they should’ve been, especially since you had started crying unannounced earlier. That’ll play in the back of your mind forever but for now you’re focused on his soft footsteps as he approaches the bed, dressed in a much looser shirt and pants. He always slept like this but this time he looks down at you, one finger gently poking your cheek as he sits on the other end of the bed.

“I actually prefer to sleep with my shirt off. But we always fell asleep at different times so I never got to ask your permission.”

He hums quietly, the finger now gently rubbing along the soft curve of your cheek instead.

“You can.. I don't mind.” You say quietly, eyes trailing over his form as he settles himself against the headboard right beside you. Touching you.

“Are you sure your cheeks won't get too red?”

He teases, hand moving towards the top of your head to gently card his fingers through your locks. You push yourself up to a sitting position, letting out a soft yawn as you do so before you blink at him hazily again. This time, you press forward and place your hand on his abdomen, absentmindedly rubbing your finger there back and forth. “I want to see your injuries.”

Not even he can stop the way his face softens at that and he tucks you into his side again, his other hand pulling the shirt up and over his head to discard onto the carpet beneath the bed. This view is only for you: his paled skin, the fresh scars, the old scars, fading bruises and fresh bruises, stitches that fall out and others that are pulled tight but most of all, his body. All for your eyes only, only for you. Your hand runs gently over the outline of his newest bruise, a deep purple that covers the entire expanse of his hip. It’s blooming into something worse and you’re sure it’ll hurt more tomorrow, not that he’d ever complain about that anyway. “You always come home with injuries, and you just play them off. Don't they hurt? Don't you want me to care for you?”

You say quietly, voice even softer now that you’ve sobered up, and he just lets out a breath, his face turning to watch the way your brows furrow and your lips press together. To have someone fuss over him like this is something he never thought about much, but it didn't mean he hadn’t craved the idea before. Yours was genuine worry, and you always held that genuine care for him. But it felt different now, more natural, more intimate. Like he was the only one you would worry about like this— he loved that feeling.

“I don't ever want you to worry about a thing, even if I do like the way your eyebrows crease when you do.” He chuckles softly, leaning down to press his lips affectionately against your hair before sitting back up properly again. “I suppose if you really want to.. I couldn't deny I'd be flattered to have you care for me.” The curve of your lips is what makes him smile as well, finding it all too endearing how easily a grin can form on your face.

“You’re such a flirt..” You mutter, trying to play it off and wiggle out of his hold on you, only serving for him to raise an amusing brow at you. “I’m only making up for what I can’t do to a tipsy girl.”

“I’m not tipsy..” You argue, sitting up a little straighter which makes his arm gently rest on your lower back instead.

“Oh? Really now? Let me test you then, since I used to be a policeman.”

“Fine, give me what you’ve got.”

“Sing the alphabet backwards if you’re sober.”

You instantly splutter, shaking your head quickly.

“Hey! Not even a normal person can do that. I knew you didn't actually like me.” He has to stop himself from rolling his eyes up at your grumbling, squashing your cheeks to make you shush.

“Is it really a crime that I don't want you to forget our first kiss because of some stupid whiskey?”

“Your stupid whiskey.” He finally rolls his eyes at your retort, gently pushing you back into bed and pulling the covers up and over you. “Alright fine, my stupid whiskey. Now, be honest with me, are you sober?”

The little frown on your face has disappeared with the hope his question brings, and you nod quietly, wide eyes looking into his.

“Are you very sure?” You were definitely sober now, his voice immediately lowering to a rasp as his hands travel up to cup the soft curves of your cheeks as they begin to turn pink. Just like that, he’s the man you’ve fallen for all over again, soft strands of fair hair framing his chiselled face as if they’re perfectly placed to put you under his spell. His index tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, gently rubbing the skin of your cheek with his calloused thumbs. His skin is so rough and yet you can't help but feel he is so soft at this moment; his eyes are like gentle waves, looking at you so fondly that you finally remember to reply.

“I-i'm sure.”

He doesn't hesitate, leaning in closer until his nose just touches the tip of yours, eyes locked onto every small movement you can even think about doing. “Can I?” The nod you give is the green light he’s always dreamed of; this day is all he has ever thought about since you joined his life. You let your eyes flutter closed, feel the warmth of his breath that tickles your skin as he draws closer and closer until his lips meet yours so gently. You have to physically stop yourself from giggling, probably the alcohol still trying to make a fool of you, but you just can't believe he’s the one wrapping you in his touch. Likewise, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he lets out a small gasp when you suddenly gain the strength to meet him upright, almost as if you’re threatening to pin him instead. Of course, he couldn't just let that slide easily. So, as anyone would, he pushes you back down into the mound of pillows, causing you to squeal as he leaves his touch all over your face, fleeting kisses painting your skin a rosy red. “You better not forget this in the morning.” He scoffs playfully as your eyes squeeze shut, giggles that spill out your mouth while he gives the affection he’s craved to gift to someone for years.

His job is hard, his life has been hard, and even this marriage initially felt the same. It wasn't so much the fact that he had essentially tied himself down to someone he barely knew, it was the realisation that he would never find his one person. That's why he did this after all, it seemed like it’d benefit the both of you and the day where he’d actually have a woman by his side slipped away with each mission. You, you were different though. You may have been an agent before, but outside of work you were the sweetest thing. Always subconsciously fussing over him, delaying sleep to prepare his lunch no matter how much he insisted you didn't need to, taking a personal duty to look after his cat, and still not being afraid to ask him when he seemed low or uncomfortable. You were everything he never had, even the annoying nagging of trying to get him to not lay on the couch after he ate or the fact that's his third whiskey yet.

Corny lines, the occasional flirty remark, dragging you to watch a movie— he wanted to do all of that before so you’d become actually his, actually the one he could say he loves and loves him back. But things got in the way, life got in the way, and he was starting to see his opportunities dissolve with each tired return from the mission. Despite his grumpy attitudes some days, his exhausted look as he collapsed into bed at eight, you still managed to fuss over him all the same— never once did you treat him differently, if not for the fact you’d cook him a slightly nicer meal after missions.

He was still busy, yes of course, but somehow he had managed to win you over. Maybe it was his silly jokes, though he’d seen you stare at his hair many times before so maybe that caught your eye. In any case, he’s happy to give any part of him to you, if not all of him. So when he’s pressed the last kiss on your nose and pulls the covers high over you, he tucks you into his chest, a final kiss to your temple as he looks down at your angelic expression. The way your smile curves at literally nothing but his touch is enough to make him fold right there, but he doesn't right now, squeezing you against him.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.”

He whispers out, and you can't ignore it, eyes snapping up to look at him just from those three words. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the way they question the truth and if this really is real. Then you nod slowly, tuck your head into his chest, nestled against the beat of his heart.

“I love you too.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #flufftober #resident evil fluff #resident evil fandom #resident evil 4 #re4make #re4 leon #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #re fanfic #!pinksheepfics #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #resident evil fic

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coffeeman777 · 5 months ago

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This is for all of my follwers/mutuals who are Christians:

I want to preface this by saying that what I'm about to share with you is only to ask you for prayer. I don't want favors, and I'm not looking for a handout. We need God to open a door for us, and so I beg you, please pray for us.

We moved to Florida coming on three years ago. We came here primarily because we believed God was leading us here. In various ways, we believed God confirmed His will for us, and so I left a great job and we sold a great house to move here. We have been opposed in every way imaginable since.

Days after moving down, Lisa and I were in a terrible car accident that we only walked away from by God's grace. We were rear-ended by an Edible Arrangements delivery truck on the highway, and Lisa sustained significant injuries that are still causing us major problems. The franchise owner was operating their delivery vehicle without insurance, and I've learned since that they shut down their Edible Arrangements franchise and took off, leaving us holding the bag.

I've been in armed security since I got out of the Marines, and in New Hampshire, that was enough to take care of myself and my family. But it isn't in Florida. The pay for most armed security gigs here is super low, and I haven't been able to find work comparable to what I had in New Hampshire. So I tried to change courses.

I earned my personal trainer certification through the National Academy of Sports Medicine, but couldn't make it as a trainer. I made the attempt to go back to college and get a degree and certification as a paramedic, but after months of jumping through hoops, that fell through. I went back to New Hampshire by myself and spent six months away from my family to try to earn enough money working both my old job and a second job, but that plan didn't work because hours were limited with both gigs, and each job wanted me to work overlapping hours; I couldn't make the schedules line up.

My incredibly generous parents-in-law offered to pay our bills so that I could come back to Florida and try a new plan. I went to a CDL training course to get into trucking. After the very long and very expensive process, I finally got my CDL-A. While I was working on that, a random disagreement between my health insurance company and the medical supplier that issued me my cpap (I have sleep apnea) resulted in the supplier demanding that I give them the machine back. It took from middle February to early June for me to get another cpap. The end result is that, as of today, I have just under two months of cpap usage data. I discovered only after getting my CDL that no trucking company will hire me with less than 90 days of cpap usage data.

I've been pre-hired and subsequently turned away from three different trucking companies since I got my CDL over the cpap nonsense (one of which told me that what I had for cpap usage was fine, only to tell me on the first day of orientation that it actually wasn't fine, and they had to let me go). It's going to be another month before I can get started with any trucking company, and I'm concerned that I'll have to go to refresher training, which will only increase the months of time I'll have to spend as a trainee with whatever company hires me, which means it will be a long time before I make enough money to survive.

My in-laws can't continue paying our bills, and although I've had a half dozen low paying jobs in this time just to be bringing in something, now I'm struggling to get anything. I've applied to more jobs than I can remember, and I can't get any traction. Not even Domino's will call me back. Our backs are up against a wall.

My first payment for the money I borrowed to pay for CDL school was due almost a month ago, and I haven't been able to pay it (I had to get financing because my GI Bill expired and the VA ignored my request for an extension). Rent is almost 2k a month. We can't afford groceries (we've been living off of food pantries).

I don't know what to do. I've been crying out to God for an open door, but so far nothing has happened. My in-laws are just about tapped out, and in my mind, the only thing worse than wrecking my own family financially is dragging them down with me.

Please pray for us. Please pray for God to give us an open door, or some understanding of what to do next. I know God didn't bring us here to let us die. God is good, and God keeps His promises. God is perfect, and righteous, and just in all His ways. God has promised that He will turn about all things for the good of them that love Him. I know God has not abandoned us, and that when the time is right, God will make a way.

I say again, I am not looking for favors or begging for money. I know all of us are really going through it right now. All I want from you is prayer. Please pray intensely for us.

Thanks, I love you all.

#prayer request

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zaineviu · 25 days ago

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❛𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦, 𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦, 𝘊𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦❜ - L.F (SKZ)

Synopsis. It's funny how a cup of coffee turns into cupid.

pairings. felix x reader.

content. sfw!, fem!reader, reader is a little clumsy, felix is too cute.

wc. 1,229

a/n. Very soft for our soft hearts.

You didn't think you were involved in a problem.

Not today.

No tomorrow.

No today in the morning.

You were always involved in some problem, whether at work, at home, with your friends, family, even in everyday places like a coffee shop.

The hazel eyes of the man who looked at you as if you owed him something made you feel uncomfortable and pressured to act on something that was really your fault.

You didn't know how to fix the situation you found yourself in due to your involuntary carelessness of dropping your coffee so close to him that the poor man, to prevent it from falling to the floor, got in the way, burning one of his hands with the boiling coffee.

But once again, you really didn’t think you were in any trouble.

But you were kind, too kind for the taste of your loved ones, so you didn’t hesitate to offer him help right away.

Although technically it was your fault.

Bad way to want to help.

“Oh! I’m sorry, damn, things like this always happen to me. I’m so sorry!”

You approached without asking permission, taking a large portion of the nearby napkin holder to dry the man's hand, who only looked at you expectantly.

Making a fool of yourself only took you three seconds before the boy let out a laugh so loud that you shuddered because of how noisy it was.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” he confessed, taking your hand with his other hand to stop your movements.

“No, it’s not okay, did you get burned?” you asked quickly, looking at him with moist eyes without being able to avoid it, you didn’t expect your morning to move forward in this humiliating way.

You had decided to leave your house early to go get a coffee before leaving for work, since your boss had practically threatened you with overtime the day before, this being your excuse to squeeze coffee all day.

You didn't think you would bump into this man who just smiled at you while holding your hand, you couldn't notice how cute he was..

Too many freckles.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Don’t worry, it’s just coffee.”

You couldn't accept it, that thing was hot.

You couldn't even take a sip because it was so hot.

"Could you please have my number if any burns arise? I can cover any injuries with my insurance," you pleaded once again, not letting go despite the mocking look.

Felix let out a soft laugh, that kind of laugh that seemed to fill the air with warmth, as if the coffee incident had no importance at all. “Are you sure you’re not exaggerating a little?” he asked in a serene voice, tilting his head slightly to look at you better. His eyes, dark and bright, reflected a hint of fun while his lips still held a smile.

It looked like a sun if you looked at it from afar.

“I’m not,” you insisted, without being intimidated by the charm that this stranger who smiled at you gave off, as if that was the only thing he knew how to do. “If I let you go like this and you end up with a red hand like a tomato, I won’t forgive myself.” You crossed your arms in an attempt to show firmness, although your heart, racing for no apparent reason, did you no favour.

It was a strange way of hiding your nervousness.

Would it seem ridiculous to confess that you were already in love?

Probably yes.

Felix looked at you for one more second, he seemed to evaluate your stubbornness, before letting out a sigh. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I give up,” he said with that carefree smile, taking his phone out of his pocket. “If that makes you calm, give me your number. But I promise that if my hand explodes in flames, I will write to you first.”

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, surprised by how lightly he said it. “You shouldn’t joke about that,” you replied as he held his phone out to you. The device felt warm in your hand, and the screen reflected your nervous face more than you were willing to admit.

You wrote your number carefully, trying not to make mistakes, although the pressure of his curious eyes on you did not make it easier. When you returned his phone, you couldn’t help the little smile that escaped your lips. “If I write to you, it’s just to make sure your hand is okay,” you said, trying to hide how silly you felt.

It didn’t seem serious, his hand was red but he didn’t think there was anything further, otherwise he would be crying.

Felix put his cell phone in his pocket with a quick gesture, looking sideways at his hand as if he were examining it again. “Well, it seems that I’m whole... for now,” he commented, stretching his fingers as if he wanted to convince you that everything was fine.

The silence that followed was comfortable, surprisingly pleasant after the chaos of the last minutes. It was he who broke it, leaning a little towards you. “By the way, I’m Felix,” he said suddenly, his voice soft and genuine. “I think we’ve already skipped the formalities between so much flying coffee.”

“It’s true,” you replied, suddenly feeling aware of how ridiculous everything had been. “I’m Y/N.”

Felix approached with a smile that seemed to illuminate everything around him. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Even if it was with a cup of coffee like cupid.” His joke made you laugh, a more genuine laugh than you had released in weeks.

Add yourself with a touch of confidence. “Next time I’ll invite... and I’ll try not to spill anything.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise. "Next time? Are you already planning another meeting? Well, I guess you should be more careful if I see you again, or I'll end up with a ruined shirt this time."

“It wasn’t on purpose!” You exclaimed, frowning still worried about the previous event, but Felix only laughed louder.

"I know, I know," he finally said, with a gentle gesture that made you blush softly. "Though, to be honest, it wasn't that bad. Thanks to this disaster, I met someone interesting."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but you manage to hide it with a smile.

You looked over your shoulder at the wall clock, mentally cursing the time.

Your boss was going to kill you if you didn’t arrive in twenty minutes.

“I should go, my boss will get very angry with me if I don’t arrive on time, and I already have many delays behind me,” you blurted out, as if only at that moment you remembered the reality.

You ignored the fact that you didn’t have your cup of coffee in your hand.

You’d have to come back later for a new one.

Felix looked at you with a funny expression, as if he was amused by your urgency. “I don’t want to be the cause of your dismissal, so run before it’s too late,” he joked, but his eyes were still fixed on yours.

They were too beautiful to ignore.

“See you, Y/N,” he said with a farewell gesture that, for some reason, you felt would not be the last.

You nodded quickly, trying to recompose your posture.

“See you later, Felix.”

He gave you one last look, as warm as his whole being, and began to move away slowly just like you.

Without wasting any more time, you turned around and began to walk hastily towards the exit, feeling your heartbeat even stronger than they should be.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself.

Even though you didn't have coffee, you got something more unexpected: a conversation, a smile... and a name that, unintentionally, was already starting to repeat itself in your mind.

Felix.

#skz imagine #felix x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #skz stay #skz felix #imagine #drabble

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bloodyinkandquill · 2 months ago

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Illumina x Reader NSFW

asked my friend for ideas on this one (we talk about all the sfoth a lot) and they gave me two because it was very late for them which is reasonable, let’s do this then i’ll play something on roblox maybe more phighting we’ll see, im letting bread thaw on the counter so i can make a grilled cheese because it was frozen and i just took it out

- D/V/S: This man is a hard dom, he will not be a sub, he will spite you for even suggesting he subs

- T/S/B: Technically a switch but he bottoms once a millennium, he tops every other time

- Kinks: This man is so rough, he’s already incredibly large and strong meaning he’s naturally pretty rough but this man cranks it up to 11, he also has brain control/hypnotization powers that he really enjoys using on you during intercourse, he still has a way for you to safe word don’t worry, part of that is he’s just into being in full control of you, with that he is into tying you up, specifically to the point you can’t move and or are suspended in the air, he is VERY into the size difference between you and him, goes with how he wants to be in total control, and with that size difference if you steal and wear his clothes he wants to do it on the spot

- More kinks: Likes gagging you, which goes hand in hand with general sensory deprivation, he’s a slight sadist especially if it’s biting you to the point it draws blood, sort of connected also is into dacryphilia, seeing you so small under him and wrecked with sobs gets him so turned on, into both praise and degradation, more so on degradation big if the situation calls for it he also enjoys praising you, or doing both at the same time, especially because it can almost overwhelm your brain with the conflicting words

- Aftercare: While he does take care of your physical needs he focuses far more on your mental needs, he can be rather intense during it so he wants to insure that you return to your regular self and know it was all just dirty talk, if you end early by safe wording that’s tripled, he treats you incredibly gently to the point it’s almost creepy since it’s so unlike him, but he gets you water, cuts off any bindings you may have been in, and holds you closely and gently putting his robe on you to cover your body since robes are easier to put on then normal clothes

fell asleep before finishing and watching toh, it’s 6 am no clue why i woke up but im really hungry right now, i should probably also start laundry sooner than later, imma also send this to the friend i mentioned at the beginning hope they enjoy it since im worried its not accurate 😭

#x reader #phighting x reader #phighting #phighting!#freaky #phighting illumina x reader #illumina x reader phighting #illumina x reader

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adventuresasmrsfindley · 17 days ago

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Christmas recap:

My child woke up at 5:54 AM. We held him off til 6:20 AM 😂 This is the first year he has woken up so early and I'm not going to lie, it sucked!! But you cannot deny a child the magic of Christmas morning.

Husband took said child out to the shop for like 45 minutes around 8:30 and I grabbed a super essential nap. I felt great after!

Knox was SO sweet opening his gifts. He hugged us and said thank you after every single one. He is truly such a kind hearted boy and he makes me so dang proud.

My parents got here around lunch time and brought a BBQ feast!! It was nice that no one had to stress about cooking. The food was amazinggggg. My little brother and his wife (!!!!) also came and she was surprisingly pleasant. 😅

My parents went super sentimental with gifts! I already posted about mine. I am so in love with it. Need to get the diamond inspected and make sure the prongs are secure and have it added to our insurance. My mom also had a beautiful canvas print made of Jazzy to gift to Cole. He cried. It was so freakin sweet.

We had a wonderful day. Full of laughs and cuddles and family. I'm in denial about having to go back to work tomorrow so I'm having a glass of wine and watching Virgin River since my tired guys are already in bed. At least there's only 2 days til the weekend! I am 100% taking off the days leading up to Christmas every year going forward. This has been so nice.

Also, did anyone else watch Bey's halftime show?!? I am so obsessed with her.

Merry Christmas! 💚❤️

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angryschnauzer · 1 year ago

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January 11th 2024

Yeah its been a while since i updated. I haven't had the energy to if i'm honest, but here we go.

Hubby had his brain surgery end of November '23. The tumour they took out was a nasty one, somewhere between the size of a golf ball and a kiwi fruit. The wound has healed well with little to no side affects apart from some double vision, but he was checked out for that and it is a common after affect of brain trauma and was remedied with an eyepatch for a few weeks.

We met with the Neuro Oncology team at Royal Marsden Hospital in London. They are one of the best (if not the best) cancer treatment centres in the whole country, and we worked through a treatment plan.

Just before Christmas hubby was also cleared to have shoulder reconstructive surgery (he broke his shoulder bone in the original seizures back at the end of October '23). There was a really small window of time between it being enough time after the brain surgery that he could go back under general anaesthetic, but also enough time to mostly heal before he started Radiotherapy and Chemo, so just 5 days before Christmas hubby was in and out of our local hospital in a single day to have that surgery.

Christmas was a quiet and subdued affair. I also herniated a disk in my back the day Hubby had surgery (i was clearing the deep freeze out ready for grocery delivery), so it meant both he and I were dosed up to our eyeballs on strong painkillers for most of the holiday, and Little Dude spent the majority of the break either playing video games or building his new lego sets.

Two days before Christmas i also had to have emergency dental work (i had been grinding my teeth and had previously cracked a tooth) and whilst i was in the dentists office some utter idiot crashed into my car. That was the last thing i needed but i simply handed it all over to my insurance company (who are aware of my husbands situation) and they arranged a hire vehicle and sorted repairs.

Onto the start of 2024. This is the first week of Radiotherapy and Chemo for Hubby. He is getting very tired and fatigued already from the Radiotherapy, but thankfully no nausea from the chemo as yet, but that could change over time. He is scheduled for a full schedule of 6 weeks of this dual treatment, where we are having to visit Royal Marsden every day Mon - Fri for the six weeks, and then he also takes the chemo 7 days a week for the six weeks.

He'll then have 4 to 6 weeks 'off' treatment for his body to relax and recuperate, but will have scans and MRI's during that time to gauge what further treatment will be, but its likely to be just chemo but a stronger dose, but no radiotherapy. The chemo is to be 3 weeks off one week on, so a 4 weekly cycle.

The one thing we have discovered isn't done is prognosis's. When we first got to Royal Marsden we were shocked as they started talking about years, and explained that although it was a really nasty tumour, it was found very early and whilst it was still relatively small for its kind. They've discussed things like 'this years treatment plan then we'll look at next years', and also for a while Hubby was being considered for a clinical trial which candidates who have prognosis's of 12 months+ are only considered for. In the end he didn't meet the criteria (his cholesterol was too high). The Macmillian Nurses also have been talking to us about Mobility Car assistance schemes where you can get govt assistance financially and get an adapted vehicle on a 2 year rolling lease. All these timings are reassuring in one way, but worrying in another - we have no idea what the future holds and it really does cement in stone that our time is limited and could end any moment, and makes it very difficult to make any long term plans. You don't realise how much of your life is preplanned until you end up in this situation and aren't sure if you can book your kid onto the school residential trip in 5 months time.

Should anyone want the mundane daily day-to-day life updates you can follow me on my personal instagram @simone_with_an_e its generally a load of utter boring bollocks, but i try to keep it updated daily with updates when i can as its a lot easier to do 1 short paragraph than a big update.

For me my mental health is a little better now that i've had time to process Hubby's diagnosis and that he is getting treatment. There are still days or hours when i fall apart, and it could be something as simple as listening to a song on the radio as i drive back from dropping Little Dude at school and i realise the song would be lovely at his funeral. I end up having to pull over and have a cry whilst switching the radio off. I'm loosing weight and aging quickly, my hair is turning grey from stress and i realised i've aged about 15 years in the last 3 from stress. My appetite comes and goes, and things like red meat now turn my stomach and i can't digest it. But i also haven't drunk alcohol since the day before Hubby had his seizure back in October. I feel like i need to stay 'alert' in case i need to rush him to the hospital for something. I don't miss it as such, but I miss the ability to fully relax. Its hard to describe but i feel like at the moment i've lost myself and am just functioning to care for those around me, going through the motions as such.

Anyway, this has been a long update. I do still lurk here, you may see me pop up in notifications liking something, but at the moment i don't feel its right to start putting fandom stuff back on here yet. I do hope to get back to writing at some point. I miss it and the unfinished stories plague my mind as i have such lovely plans for story arc's and really want to finish them.

Take care all,

Schnauz

xxx

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 3 months ago

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The Internet Is Forever: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Summary: A man is going around killing women in their homes and filming it for all to see. It's heartbreaking to watch but you're determined to catch him before he can hurt anyone else.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

"The single biggest problem with communication is the illusion that it has taken place." - George Bernard Shaw

You're not required by your work to attend any more therapy sessions. Melissa signed off on your progress even though you were a bit sad to leave. She had created such a safe space for you to vent about your life and feelings. She gave you the option of attending sessions either through insurance or out of pocket which you might do. You don't need to be going multiple times a week or even once a week. Maybe you might do a bi-monthly thing.

You and Spencer are getting ready to go to work when you notice him staring at himself in the mirror by the front door. He got a haircut since his hair was getting too long but you think he looks sexy. You cap the thermos full of coffee and slide it into your bag before walking over to Spencer. He runs his fingers through his hair and tries to style it in a way that makes it look normal.

"Spencer, would you stop? You look handsome."

"What if they don't like it?"

You turn him to face you and reach up to touch it. He closes his eyes when he feels your fingers glide through his hair. You scrape your nails against his scalp lightly, and you grin when you see goosebumps on his arms.

"It doesn't matter if they do or not. I think you look sexy."

"My hair was getting too long."

"I know. I don't mind this at all. As long as your hair isn't longer than mine."

'It wasn't that long," he chuckles.

"Again, you look very handsome." You tighten your grip on his hair and lightly tug it. "Plus, it's still pullable."

"Don't start something you can't finish," he growls.

"Come on, we're going to be late," you laugh.

Everyone is already in the briefing room when you get to work. He nervously plays with his fingers so you take his wrist and run your hand over his pulse point. He slides his hand into yours and squeezes it tenderly. You let go of his hand when you walk into the briefing room.

"Well, hello," JJ says.

Everyone looks at Spencer in confusion.

"What, did you join a boy band?" Hotch asks.

"No?"

"Isn't he handsome?" you grin and kiss his head.

"Alright, this is Dorris Archer who is the third woman to go missing in Boise, Idaho this year. With her are Paula Renmar and Samantha Rush. They went missing roughly two months apart," JJ says.

"Okay, so what are we looking at here? Late twenties to early thirties and all living on their own, but two of them were in committed relationships. It looks like they lived in normal suburban houses that can give the unsub privacy."

"The differences are more striking than the similarities," Spencer says about the looks of each woman. "There are different hair colors and different body shapes."

"What do you know about his MO?" Hotch asks JJ.

"That's why we were invited in. The abduction sites are pristine. There is no DNA besides the victims, and there are no signs of forced entry or a struggle. The victims aren't reported missing until two or three days after they're abducted."

"Two or three days? Women like this don't just vanish without someone noticing."

"Yes, which is why I asked Garcia to dig into their lives."

Speaking of, Penelope walks into the briefing room at the right time. She gives Spencer a confused look but doesn't comment on his hair.

"When I took a look at their online activity, I could easily see how the unsub is doing it. It's through their social networking sites. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and just about everything else. If it's a social media network, they were on it. If you look at each of their last posts, they all say the same thing. They were all going out of town, on a business trip, or on a vacation. However, when you look at the time and date stamp on each of the photos, they were posted the morning after they went missing."

"The unsub posted them," Hotch says.

"Social network apps are an easy way for an unsub to target his victims. These women were especially open. They posted everything from what they were having for dinner to where they were going on dates."

"So, this unsub friends his victims and then uses that as a cover once he takes them? That means he can hack into their accounts. He's excellent with computers, then."

"That definitely profiles as patient and organized," Spencer says. "He's obsessive enough to remove all forensic details but also patient enough to wait two months before abductions."

"He can afford to be. He gets three days to do whatever he wants to these women. That means we need to assume these women are already dead. The question is what he does do while he has them?"

You continue the conversation on the plane.

"So, if this unsub is using social networking apps to find his victims, can't we use that to find him? If these women each had a hundred friends following them, then the unsub would pop up on each of their lists, right?"

"The detective in charge, John Fordham, looked into their groups. Everyone checked out."

"Social networking sites are surprisingly insecure. Facebook recently tried to update all their privacy settings, and in doing so, they made everybody's profiles viewable."

"Can somebody explain to me the appeal of these sites? 'Eating sushi tonight. Yum.' 'Boss is keeping me late at work. Grr.' Whose life is so important that we'd be interested in this kind of detail?" Rossi asks.

What a boomer. You have to hold your laugh in but you lock eyes with JJ who only smiles.

"I don't know. I guess that's the running joke, right? Nobody is, but we'd all like to believe there's actually an audience out there that wants to follow our every move. some sites even have a GPS feature built in. You can tell exactly where someone is every time they post a new comment."

"This is telling us how he's finding them, but it's not telling us how he's getting into their houses," Hotch says.

"At the very least, I believe that he has copies of their keys. Dorris had a home security system installed, but the disable code was entered at 1:56 AM. He knew that, too. He also found a way to deal with her dog. A German Shepherd she adopted from the pound last year went missing the night that she did," JJ explains.

"So, this guy's gotta be in and out of the house well before the night of the disappearance. He comes up with some ruse and talks his way inside. Once he's familiar enough with the house, he knows he can come back and kidnap them without disturbing anything."

"What about the people who come into your house that you don't consider a threat? Home repair guys? Dog walkers?"

"Detective Fordham looked into that, too," JJ says. "No one even came close to being a killer."

"Okay, Morgan and Prentiss, start with the last abduction sites and see if anything points to his MO. Dave, you, Reid, and Y/N go back over the women's lives. Start with their friends on the social networking sites. If this is how the unsub is finding them, maybe they're connected to him without even realizing it."

Once you land in Boise, you meet with Detective Fordham at the police station.

"Thank you for coming," he says after the introductions. "We can really use your help."

"Did you find anyone willing to talk to us about the victims?"

"The problem wasn't who to bring in. It was who not to."

Looks like you're doing interviews. The man you're with is Dorris' boyfriend who is eager to give any information that might be important.

"Thank you for coming in, Nate. We just have a few more questions about your girlfriend's disappearance. Did Dorris ever mention letting someone in her home?"

"Like who?"

"We're just trying to figure out who would know the code to her home security. It must have been someone she trusted with the combination."

"No," he shakes his head. "She was smart. She took precautions. That's the whole reason she got Bruno, her dog. She trained him for like six weeks."

You sigh and take out her crime scene photos.

"I know these are going to be hard to look at, but do you see anything different?" You lay out the photos for him. "Maybe something he might have done to get himself inside?"

Nate has a hard time looking at the photos but he is confused rather than sad. He comes across a picture of a bookshelf that's only filled with photographs of her and Nate. There are three shelves with two pictures on each shelf.

"No, this isn't right." He points to a picture of them that's on the top shelf on the right. "This is when we first started dating. It should be on the left, not the right."

"She wouldn't have rearranged them?"

"No. She arranged them in a certain way to tell a story. It was how we fell in love."

You step off to the side and call Derek who is at her house with Emily. You explain to him about the misplacement of the photographs. If he rearranged them, he must have put something behind them.

"Do you see it?" you ask.

"Yeah. It looks like he tried hanging something on the wall behind it. There's even a little bit of residue left over."

"Morgan," Emily calls out.

"Let me call you back." Derek hangs up the phone and walks over to Emily who is on the small landing on the stairs. "What is it?"

"I found something on here, too."

"What would he try to hang on this part of the wall?" he asks.

"Well, from here, I have an unobstructed view of the second floor and down the stairs."

"It's the same thing down here. You can see the entire entrance." A light bulb went off in his head. "Cameras. He put up cameras."

You, Spencer, and Hotch head over to her house once Derek and Emily request your presence. He quickly explains the discovery of the holes and the theory of the cameras.

"We think this is what he's using to spy on his victims. They're small, they're cheap, and they're easily hidden behind photos, books, and plants. The footage they record can then be transmitted anywhere to a website of your choice and even your cell phone. He can toggle between cameras to see everything that's happening in the house."

"How many did you find here?"

"Five. Upstairs, downstairs, bedroom, and even the bath."

"A ruse might get him in the door but it doesn't buy him enough time to put five of these up."

"Right. That's why we think he starts with one camera facing the front door. That tells him when it's safe to enter the house, when she comes and goes, when the dog-walker comes, and what the combination to the house is."

"It fits his MO. If he learned their every detail on social networks, he would be just as obsessive in his surveillance," Emily explains. "Once he learns their routine, all he has to do is pick the lock, put up the rest of the cameras, and he got their whole life at his fingertips."

You stand on the landing and look at the front door. The unsub's energy is all over the place. He's been here more than once like Emily theorizes.

"What does he do with the video? Does he keep them?" Spencer asks.

"If he's a voyeur, yes."

"Voyeurs are rarely violent, though. Their excitement comes from spying without the object knowing they're being watched. By abducting his victims, he's removing the outlet of his sexual release. He must have some other agenda with these cameras."

"He might be sharing the footage with other people. We need to have Garcia dig into surveillance and illegal video websites," Hotch says.

Spencer sees a picture on the fridge of Dorris and Nate which he takes down.

"I'm going to take this with us."

"Why?"

"We originally profiled that there wasn't any facial similarity between the victims, but I'm not so sure that's true. I want to compare Dorris' picture with the other victims."

You four head back to the police station where Rossi is talking to Penelope over video chat.

"With the videos the unsub took, it looks like he posted one of them online which I can use to nab him."

"If he puts it on the web, can't you track that back directly to his computer?"

"Normally, yes. Normally, I can get you the network he's using in seconds and get the physical address of his modem. This guy is different. "Do you guys know what a proxy server is?

"It's an internet relay," you say from behind Rossi who jumps slightly at your presence.

"Precisely. Kids use them to get around blocked sites. Now, usually, one proxy is plenty but this piece of work is using dozens of proxy servers. He's bounced his signal off of China, North Korea, Russia, and South Africa."

"Garcia, can you trace him back to Boise?" Hotch asks.

"Of course, I can. That's exactly what I'm doing but time is the unfortunate ingredient I need." Something comes across her computer that you can't see. "It looks like one of the proxy servers archived what he was streaming on the night of Dorris' disappearance."

"Can we see it?"

"Pulling it up now." Penelope's video chat moves to the left of the screen and another screen pops up on the right so you can still see her and watch the video at the same time. The unsub is wearing a ski mask to hide his identity as he enters her house. He immediately types the code into the alarm panel to disable the alarm before it goes off. He takes something out of his pocket just as Bruno walks up to him. "Oh, please don't hurt the doggie."

He doesn't. He feeds it a treat and lets it out of the house. Now that he's alone, he slowly treks up the stairs as if he is making a show for himself.

"Well, Prentiss and Morgan were right. He knows the house, and the dog knows him. How many trips inside the house would that take? A dozen?"

The camera changes the angle to show the entire upstairs floor and the stairs. He reaches the top of the stairs and heads to Dorris' bedroom. The camera switches the angle so that it looks like it's a POV camera.

"See that? The camera's attached to him. It's his point of view so he can relive it over and over again," you say.

The unsub grabs Dorris' throat and starts strangling her. She immediately wakes up and starts struggling but the unsub has a deathly grip on her. Penelope immediately looks away from the screen, not wanting to see that.

"Can someone tell me when it's over?"

"Not yet." When Dorris takes her last breath, the camera changes to one he stashed in her bedroom. "Okay, he's done." Penelope turns back around to watch the unsub fix her hair like he's caring for her. He wipes a stray tear from her cheek. "He's tender to her. She means more to him as a corpse than as a living person."

"Garcia, we need to find the unsub's network. Even if it's a rough area, it'll help narrow the geographic profile."

"Sir, that's what I'm trying to figure out. There is something else kind of huge you need to know about." She goes into the code of the video and shows a piece of the code outlined in red. "Do you see this line of code there?"

"Yeah."

"It allows the user admin, and in this case, the unsub, to set up a chat room. People were watching this on the night of the murder."

"We thought he was posting these after the fact. He's not. He wants people to experience it with him. He wants an audience. He has fans."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #criminal minds season 5

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lost-technology · 6 months ago

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Explaining Vash Outside the Fandom!

So, today on another forum I mentioned Vash the Stampede. I mentioned him by way of "I don't ask myself WWJD? so much anymore as WWVtSD?" and explained "Vash the Stampede." I said "If anyone is unfamiliar with this name, go ahead and ask and I can fangirl all over you, but be warned, you will be reading all day." I got a taker. And then another taker who is a person on the forum who is straight up not having a good time right now and needs some distraction I feel - to read someone's dumb fangirling over a fandom they aren't in yet. So... I wrote up an essay explaining Vash the Stampede in Word and pasted it in shifts on the blog: (uck, looks like I'm gonna have to post this in shifts, too. Dumb tumblr!

*Flashes my fangirl license* You asked about Vash the Stampede? *Raises eyebrows.* Big mistake. You shall be here all day! Vash is the protagonist of Trigun, an anime / manga by Yashiro Nightow. Well, the manga is by him and there are two different animes to date, one originally airing in 1998 before the completion of the manga (and it gained the idea enough popularity that Nightow was able to continue the manga and purposefully took a different track to keep the story fresh. Because he had to switch publishers the continuing story was titled Trigun Maximum). As of 2023 there has been a reboot of the anime, Trigun Stampede, done in a cell-shaded CGI style that takes more cues from the manga. It has done its own story elements, too, most notably having the City of July as a part of the story, making it almost a prequel, since the City of July is past tense in the other media. A second set / continuation / completion of it is set for a future release date and as of yesterday, the “final phase” of the new anime will be titled Trigun Stargaze. Additionally, there was a feature-movie made in 2011 based solely upon the first anime titled Badlands Rumble, which is kind of the black sheep of the fandom (personally I enjoy it, find it very funny). So, anyway, Vash is a tall blonde man with a Bart Simpson hairdo and a long red coat who lives on a desert planet with 10X the guns of ‘Murica. There are two suns and five moons. It’s a scavenger world where people barely eek out a living using a form of lost technology known as “Plants” – which are these energy and materials production entities housed in giant lightbulbs (or something more like tanks in Stampede). No one knows how to create Plants anymore and few know how to maintain them, so everything is slowly dying (except, of course, the native sandworms. Yep, there’s something Dune-like going on). People live a half sci-fi half Old West existence and things are, again, very violent. It’s a world where you have higher chances of making it out better as a bandit than a farmer. Vash is a pacifist. He is also an outlaw with Sixty-Billion-Double Dollars ($$) on his head because he has been shown to be capable of incredible destructive power. Now, most of this comes accidentally from trying to weasel out of tough situations and people after him getting themselves hurt, but somehow towns fall apart. Except for the City of July (or Jul-Ai in Stampede), which he did wipe out. Under circumstances not of his own making or will, but the normal citizens of the planet don’t know that. That was around 24 years ago in the first anime and in the manga. July exists as of the beginning of Stampede. Early on in the manga’s story, an insurance company that gets a lot of damage claims regarding damage he supposedly caused declares him a “Human Act of God” so as to avoid payouts. He is assigned a pair of insurance agents, Milly Thompson and Meryl Stryfe, to follow him around to attempt to mitigate the damage he might cause. In the anime, it is the same, except that his bounty is not removed for some reason. (In the manga, the government removes his bounty per his “Act of God” status). He is also known as the Humanoid Typhon, putting him in the same category as a destructive storm. Vash-damage is thereafter treated in the same like as hurricane damage! Honestly, this is one of the most creative things I have seen of any media – having the local superhero / super-cryptid followed by INSURANCE AGENTS. (I am fond of characterizing Trigun as “If Mayhem from the Allstate commercials was followed around by Flo from the Progressive commercials”). (To Be Continued in Reblog-posts)

#trigun #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #the why of vash #slacktivist #what I subjected the good people of fred clark's slacktivist blog to today

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bebsibby · 5 months ago

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The Top Surgery Log

Hello! I got top surgery yesterday! I want to catalogue my experience so I can remember it and provide some insight for people who want it but haven't gotten it yet. I will continue to update this post as my healing goes on. Everything under the read more!

Leading Up

My insurance is with Kaiser which has been an AWESOME experience so far. They do require a therapist letter, so no informed consent, but the process was very simple and there were a lot of people dedicated to getting me what I needed.

I had about 3 therapist meetings where she just asked me questions about my experience with gender and how my transition has gone so far, my support network, can I afford it, etc. Then she wrote my letter, sent it off to the surgical team, and I was approved within a few days!

After that I had my very first consult with the surgeon. He took pictures, did a breast exam, asked about general health and family health history, then gave me a little presentation of the process. It had post up photos of prior patients, a lot of explanations of the types of surgeries available that he does, and a lot of good information in general. He answered a lot of my questions and made me feel fully confident and prepared for the experience.

Also important to note: I told him the surgery I had been wanting ever since I started doing top surgery research was Inverted-T and I was curious of he knew of it/why that WASN'T an option they offered. He explained everything to me and showed me what he expected my results to look like if I DID want to go to a different surgeon outside of Kaiser. Said surgeon does NOT accept insurance, but would work with the insurance side of things to make sure they would reimburse for the expenses. I really appreciate that because it showed me they wanted to do get exactly what I wanted.

Based on all of that, I decided to just opt for Double Incision both to save me time and get a result that was aesthetically more pleasing to me. Loss of nipple sensation is unfortunate, but apparently IT only has the potential to bring a little sensation back, which wasn't worth all the extra hoop jumping for me.

After this consult, my surgeon told me to think about everything then email him a few days later with my decision. I did and then a few days later got my call to schedule. I got to pick my date but not the time of day, as I would later learn that's decided by the hospital and not me. Once my surgery was scheduled, another pre-op appointment was scheduled about a month before the surgery date. That appointment was very short, as it was just signing consent forms and confirming everything I wanted. He also gave me a packet of supplies I needed to get before the surgery.

After that, I'd occasionally receive emails with more pre-op instructions, like when to stop eating and drinking, showering instructions, when to stop certain medication, and how to care for my drains.

The Surgery

The day before surgery I had initially planned to do all of the last minute housework and leave for the surgery the next morning. HOWEVER, when I got my call to tell me the time, it turns I had to be there by 6 AM! The surgery center is over an hour away from me and the bus my wife and I were going to take didn't run that early, so we had to scramble to make other plans. Luckily the friend who was going to drive us back home was cool with us crashing on his floor for the night, so we were able to do the most important things at home then take the bus down the day before.

Once we were all set up for the night, I did the first cleaning routine that I was required to do, set my alarm, then tried to sleep. I didn't get much due to Hard Floor and also excited but that wasn't a biggie because I'd be sleeping again soon LOL.

Next morning I woke up, did my second skin cleansing, and we headed out! I checked in, waited a little in the waiting room, then got called back to start.

Everyone who was working with me was SUPER funny and kind. I got asked more questions, signed another form, took some pre-med tylenol, them stripped to switch into my gown, bonnet, and grippy socks (Got to keep those btw :>) My IV got put in my wrist which REALLY fucking hurt!!!!!! It never stopped aching. After that, the surgeon popped in to check on me and see if I had any questions, then they wheeled me in to the operating room.

I had gotten another premed via IV that was already making me tired, and I remember the last thing being the surgeon saying what to do with my removed tissue once he was done and I was gone!

The surgery itself lasted around four hours, but all I remember is waking up and seeing my wife and friend sitting at the foot of the bed. I said hi to them and that was apparently third time I had said it. I had been up and talking to them for awhile all loopy but also becoming suddenly very serious when talking with the nurses. I've had a few surgeries but I've NEVER been this way after so that was funny. The nurse had also been giving ME all of the postop discharge info and I don't remember it so thats unfortunate! I only remember her talking about the drains. I had to read it all again when I got home but it was all good.

Once I was awake enough, they wheel-chaired me down to my friends car, packed us all up and we headed back home. I napped about half the time but still kept my eyes closed when i was awake and talking bc my vision was still FUCKED and it was so bright out. We got home, I was lead inside, and that was that pretty much! I napped several more times, nibbled on some roast beef, emptied my drains (which made me very woozy, mostly due to the standing) and went to bed!

After Surgery

Day one! I woke up a few times in the night mainly to go to the bathroom, but slept REAL deep otherwise. It rained all night which was awesome. I woke up feeling very achy but not painful except for my throat. Those ET tubes are NOT easy on your body. Took all my meds, got out of bed eventually, and had cup ramen for breakfast. Now I'm just sitting on the couch with all my computer stuff moved from my desk to where I'm sitting. I got a long hdmi cable so I can just watch stuff on the big TV so I'm pretty set up!

My wife just brought me some cookies and overall I'm just feeling really good. Not really excited or emotional about it. Its just a very warm contented feeling.

I don't know what my chest looks like yet since my post-op binder got put on while i was still out, but everything gets removed next week! I'll probably update again after that appointment.

Feel free to ask specific questions! I'll be resting most of the time so I'll just be around!

#top surgery

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midnight-mourning · 3 months ago

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I'm back! (for the most part)

Hello, hope everyone is doing alright, needed a few more days than I expected. BUT, here now and slowly working on being more active. May take me a bit but plan to get caught up with everything and the likes. Going to release promptobers throughout the next couple of days, along with anything else I'm currently working on. Expect some updates on the oneshot, ch. 35 and so on as well ^-^ Thank you all for your paitence and hope to be back to regularly posting soon!

some medical/mental stuff below the cut if you're curious, I was going to save this for the ch. 35 note, but figured I might as well just say it now as it's part of the reason my return was delayed

SO, haven't really spoken on it but I've had a sinus infection for about two months now and gonna be so fr with you all, it's sucked. Like, i've never had one this bad before and it just totally knocked me on my ass. I've been tired, dazed/brain fog, some bad headaches/face pain, all the really fun stuff. I made the joke that I spent like two days of being 23 healthy and the rest of the time I've been sick lmao

But anyway, I kept waiting to see if it would clear up on it's own (and for like a week or so there my health insurance was messed up so there was that to deal with) and it just, didn't. And with everything going on with research (esp this past week) I just made myself tough through it hoping it would get better, and it didn't. So, finally went to the doctor and got on some meds and I'm feeling a LOT better.

The point to all this is to say, I've had no motivation to write beyond very small bursts and thus why I've been putting out promptobers but not the latest chapter of CS. My energy has just been super low, and I had a lot of brain fog for several weeks and I just, couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe it was a little bit of writer's block from stress too, not super sure

I took the break mainly bc things with research just got, really shitty for a few days there and I just needed time away from everything for bit esp with the sickness issues. Thankfully, things are working out a bit better this week people-wise and hopefully we'll continue to go up from here.

As for why I was gone the few extra days, the stuff they put me on made me feel physically great, but it also made me feel like doing absolutely nothing for a day or so. But, figured out the timing for those so now it's manageable to get through the next week and hopefully I'll be fully back to normal by then ^_^

TL;DR if you can go to the doctor when you're sick, go. It is NOT worth the discomfort, stress, etc to not. Also, take a break when you're stressed, does wonders for your mental health

well, since you took the time to read all of this, enjoy these pictures of a cat that showed up at my parents place a few days ago. She’s a bengal! Which makes her the second stray that's shown up that is incredibly rare/bred to look like that (the first is Nubs, my idiot who eats everything if any of you recall). Not to worry, she went home to (hopefully) her forever family early yesterday :)

#you don't realize how out of it you are until you're back in it man #like being on autopiliot and then all of the sudden BAM #feeling normal???#and good???#having coherent thoughts???#wild #not to mention if I can survive my exam tuesday I'll get a bit of my free time back #legit if i haven't been doing school or promptobers i've been aimless #it was the worst~#but now I'm good and i hope I stay good~#im gonna be really sad if I dont~#god the drafts are full rn fr fr #y'all are getting fed after I starved you for a week lmao #void shouting

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angel-fics · 1 year ago

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In The Room Where You Sleep

Summary: Dalton was just being curious and stumbles upon something he probably shouldn’t have. He then does something he shouldn’t have.

Warnings: Mentions of the Further, mentions of entities, Dalton being a creep, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation (f & m), sexual fantasies

All credit to @glodessa who wrote the imagine that inspired this, so much talent there and you’re feeding my Dalton addiction

Dalton was your friend. His primary art class was in the studio next to the orchestra rooms where you practiced in. He’d wandered in on you playing a section piece on the violin after he’d forgotten that his class was cancelled.

Since you two had obviously seen each other on multiple occasions when going to and leaving from class, he’d felt comfortable striking up a conversation. He usually wasn’t into initiating introductions, but Chris had started forcing him to interact with more people and make friends. You were the first person he had introduced himself to without her assistance.

In a way, he felt a sick sense of possession when it came to you because of that. It made him feel funny, like he was gross and he tried to stomp it down, but it would crawl it’s way up his throat whenever you talked to him. He’d met you all on his on, without a buffer or cleverly charming segue. You knew him for him from the get go, and still liked him. You liked him enough to start waiting for him before classes for a chat. You liked him enough to exchange contacts and let him take pictures of you to save for his own personal enjoyment put into his saved contacts.

You liked him enough to let him walk you back to your dorms every time he had the chance to. Which he did, considering he started walking a different path to insure that he would run into you more often.

He didn’t think he was odd, not really. Lots of friends took secret pictures of each other. For fun, it was funny, like a secret joke. And lots of friends walked together in between classes, it was normal. Even if they didn’t share certain classes. Or if one of the friends wasn’t completely aware that the other friend was nearby.

Dalton didn’t consider it strange that he didn’t like when you talked to Chris, or any of his other friends. Or anyone that might find you attractive. In his eyes, that should’ve meant everyone. You were gorgeous and people should be falling over themselves trying to be with you, in his opinion. But you were his. His friend, at least. And he hated not having your full attention.

Nighttime was the worst, in some ways. You two had met up on occasion to help each other study or wind down from an intense test. But most nights, you turned in early to spend time with your roommate. Dalton hated your roommate, she was so clingy and always convinced you to go back to the dorms, cutting off his time with you. He thought she was off, or at least very selfish, and that she used every opportunity to guilt you and take advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Dalton would never do that, he was lucky to get to be your friend. You were beautiful, talented, kind and accepting. You even accepted his ability of astral projection without hesitation. You were beyond perfect to him, and if he wasn’t with you, he was thinking about you. Constantly, and usually aloud, much to Chris’ annoyance.

“Dolphin! Please, for the love of fuck, ask that girl out already. You’re driving me nuts!” She threw herself back onto the spare bed in Dalton’s dorm in dramatic agony, groaning loudly in complaint.

“No, Chris. She’ll just think that I became friends with her because I wanted to get in her pants,” he dismissed, tossing a dirty t-shirt into his hamper a little too forcefully.

“Isn’t that what all guys do? What’s the big deal?” Chris sat up again to try to convince him. It wasn’t the first time either, but she was almost positive that you liked Dalton back and would rather you keep his mouth too occupied for him to verbally obsess over you. Like he was doing right now.

“I’m not going to do that, Chris. Just drop it.” His voice was unnervingly firm and Chris snapped her mouth shut before another incentive could fall out. Dalton was usually mild-mannered, at least when it came to anyone but his dad, not really the aggressive type. Anti-social and surly, but not aggressive. Unless it had something to do with you.

Chris thought there was something not quite right about Dalton’s crush on you but she figured his abnormal childhood and resulting trauma made it hard for him properly process his feelings. And she was reluctant to ask in case it set him off.

“I heard her roommate is going home to her parents’ for her dad’s birthday, maybe y’all can hang out more this weekend,” Chris suggested instead, unfettered by Dalton’s tone. “She left earlier this afternoon.”

Something seized in Dalton’s chest. You hadn’t mentioned that to him. You didn’t have a reason not to. Was there someone else? Were you going to spend the whole weekend with another guy? Did you have a boyfriend? Anger and hatred for this secret man clouded his mind and he felt like throwing something against the wall until it broke.

“I hadn’t heard about that,” he replied to Chris coolly. “I’ve got some homework to finish, do you mind?”

Chris nodded slowly, grabbing her bag and quickly making her way to the door, watching Dalton worriedly. She gave a half-hearted wave goodbye and left without a word.

As soon as the door shut, he quickly locked it, tearing his ball cap from his head and flinging thoughtlessly towards his desk, knocking over a small stack of his sketchbooks and a tin of water. Cursing under his breath, Dalton begrudgingly trudged to clean up the mess before the water could stain or damage any of his work.

After mopping up the water, he flipped through his drawings to check if any of it ruined the paper. One of the sketchbooks was relatively new, but nearly full of pencil and ink sketches. Of you.

Most of them took up an entire page of their own. They were innocent, somewhat, just candids that he’d done while or after hanging out with you. You smiling, laughing, playing the violin, biting your lip awkwardly. Gorgeous and sweet.

There were some other ones, smaller in comparison to the rest and done with a light hand. You changing through the window of your room. You bending over at work. You crying to your mom on the phone after you tore your favorite dress right before a date you ended up not going on. Done in a hurry by someone who was sketching without a still reference.

It was not stalking. No, he wasn’t like that. He didn’t threaten you or send you lewd messages. He didn’t get off on scaring you or making you feel unsafe. He wanted you to feel safe around him, did everything in his power to make sure you were always comfortable with him. Plus, he never invaded your privacy, he just looked. Watched. It was friendly, protective even.

Plus, those sketches were nothing compared to the rest. Small enough for three separate drawings to fit on a page, and darkly filled in with a heavy and rough hand.

It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He was a guy. You were his crush. He couldn’t control his own thoughts, let alone his dreams. It happened, and it was completely normal and natural. Not at all creepy or perverted.

He dreamt of you often. He couldn’t keep his mind off you even in his sleep. Of course, his unconscious mind was different than his conscious mind. Mostly, anyway. A lot more eager for you, hungry for you.

The pencil drawings were of you as you appeared to him in his dreams. Bent over his desk, wearing a string of pearls and a sultry smile. You, on his bed with your legs spread out invitingly, your fingers scissoring your slick folds. There was even one featuring him, his lower face dripping with drool and your arousal as his tongue delved into your wet heat from under you. That one was his favorite, even if the drawing itself wasn’t exactly his best work skill-wise. He had a hard time balancing the pad with only one hand, which he was also using to draw.

Dalton sighed and picked up all of the sketch pads, putting them back where they were and collapsing on his back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling, wondering if he should bring up your roommate leaving and confront you about not telling him. You must have had a good reason, right? It’s not like you were getting tired of him or anything. Right?

As he drifted further and further into his thoughts, the room became darker around him. Standing up to fix his lamp, he caught the sight of himself sleeping in his peripheral. He’d fallen asleep and accidentally projected.

He didn’t do so often anymore, the Further was a scary and dangerous place and he was cautious of bringing something back with him. But it had its advantages, for pranks or finding out things that others couldn’t. Surprisingly, he’d never used his ability to watch you. You were too pure and beautiful to see through the lenses of the Further, he liked seeing you surrounded by light and color, with no potential of evil spirits ruining the experience for him.

But just this once…

No! He couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

You trusted him, it would be so easy. And it’s not like he was trying to be a weirdo, he just wanted to see if you had plans that weekend without having to actually ask you. It would only be once, for a few minutes. He wouldn’t mess with you or your things. He would just listen in and leave.

He grabbed the lantern and walked out of his room. He could’ve found your dorm with his eyes closed, but since it was in a different building and he was traveling through the Further, it took him longer than he would’ve liked. But at least he didn’t encounter anyone. You lived on the second floor of your dorm house and yours was nicer and more expensive than his. You had your own bedroom and personal bathroom, not having to share with your roommate and the rest of your floor like Dalton did.

Your door was unlocked and after he entered your dorm, he locked it himself, knowing he’d have to unlock again it in order to leave. Your bedroom door was open and he could see you through it, sitting at your desk and typing on your phone. Silently and curiously, he peered over your shoulder to watch you text your roommate.

He rolled his eyes at seeing her contact but ignored it in favor of the messages being sent. Mostly average, just you being your considerate self and asking about her trip home. She, obviously, sent paragraph after paragraph detailing every insignificant second of her weekend away, not once asking anything about you. The entire conversation revolves around her and Dalton had to bite his tongue to avoid scoffing in your ear, which was inches from his mouth.

Finally she asked about you, specifically your plans for while she was gone. Luckily, she could serve a purpose for once, Dalton thought.

You mentioned work, homework and just relaxing and Dalton was tempted to leave and rid himself of his craving to kiss you. Then, he saw you type his name. You wanted to surprise him by inviting him over for a sleepover. Your roommate responded by teasing you about you and Dalton finally progressing to the next stage in your friendship; a relationship.

Huh, maybe your roommate wasn’t as bad as Dalton thought she was.

Dalton’s heart was racing as he continued to read all of your roommate’s suggestions for extremely sexual twists on common sleepover activities, all in order to seduce him. You didn’t have to try to seduce him, but trying any one of these wouldn’t hurt. He felt his cock hardening in his pants and knew that he probably should’ve left. Like, now.

But then you sighed loudly into the empty air. Your head dropped back, your lips parted and you shifted awkwardly in your seat, your thighs pressing together tightly. Dalton felt his mouth water just watching you and suddenly stopped in his tracks. He decided that he would wait until you either went to the bathroom or fell asleep. If he tried leaving before then, you might catch him.

So he stood off to the side and simply observed you from up close. You seemed more deflated when you weren’t around him, less animated and poise. Less…cheery. You continued to stay at your desk texting your roommate for a while before getting up for a glass of water. It seems like she was going to bed. You paced around the kitchen as you sipped your drink, looking slightly anxious about how the conversation ended. Dalton regretted not reading it along with you and now he couldn’t because your phone was off and locked.

Huffing out a tense laugh to yourself, you marched back into your room, passing Dalton to get to your phone. You continued pacing as you opened up your messages and scrolled until you found a particular contact, hesitating for a moment and then opening the chat thread. Dalton stood in front of you this time and read his own name from upside down. Why were you pausing when it came to texting him? Did this happen often? We’re you inviting him over?

He watched you type out a greeting and began pacing in your room. When the message delivered, Dalton panicked before remembering that his phone was next to his actual body. You wouldn’t catch him over his phone notifications sounding off in your otherwise silent room.

You turned off your phone and sat on your bed, your back straight and your eyes staring out into nothingness. Your leg bounced erratically and you started checking your phone every thirty seconds in case you missed his message. You were waiting for a response from him, Dalton realized. And he couldn’t do that while he was standing here with you.

Now was definitely the time to go and you gave him the perfect opportunity when you started collecting your things to take a shower, muttering to yourself about how desperate you were. It was clear that you were agitated from waiting on his message, and he supposed it was because he hardly ever took more than 20 seconds to start typing back. He only took long if he was busy, and he would always tell you beforehand if he was.

As much as he wanted to watch you undress yourself and shower, becoming aroused slightly once more at the idea, he wouldn’t cross that boundary when you were so vulnerable and unaware. It was completely different from the times he watched you change your shirt or remove your bra from outside your window. He was in your home and you were going to be completely naked. Dalton wanted go reserve that honor for when you would strip in front of him eagerly, at least for the first time he ever saw you naked.

*~*~*

Gasping, Dalton sat up in his own bed, his erection pressing against his sweats and his body feeling sweaty. He immediately opened his messages and read your message asking him what he was doing. Getting his own clothing, he walked to the common bathroom in his dorm house and stripped, sending you a picture of his shower stall with the reflection of his bare torso halfway in the frame.

He’d never been so forward with you before. You’d seen him shirtless on occasion, he wasn’t shy about his body, but never on purpose and he hardly ever sent you pictures instead of just telling you what he was doing. But now that he knew you felt the same way he did, he felt confident enough to give actual signals to tell you that.

He turned on the shower and waited for the ancient water settings to actually heat up the water. As he was about to step in, you messaged him back with a photo of your own.

You were wearing nothing but a robe, tied at the waist, but doing a very poor job at concealing your cleavage, and your hair was soaked. The mirror that you had taken the picture in was fogged and he could see streams of steam swirling in the air around your head. So you liked really hot showers, fuck, that was attractive to him. You smiled shyly into the camera with one of your hands clutching a towel in your hands.

You: “I just got out of the shower, how funny is that?”

God, you were adorable without even trying. He wondered if the placement of your robe was intentional or if you were just that sexy without trying to be. It could go either way, you were as effortlessly cunning as you were absurdly oblivious to your affect on others.

He quickly went through his shower routine quickly, not taking his time to enjoy the water and relax like he usually did. He didn’t want to keep you waiting again. He decided to toe the line of flirtation and idle conversation once more by sending you another photo. This time following your lead with a mirror pic. He was still shirtless and brushing his teeth with an overly wide and sud-filled smile. His shorts hung low on his hips and his entire frame was centered in the photo this time.

D: “What’s up?”

It was a lame line, but he wanted to keep the conversation going and see if you were going to invite him over. He spit out his toothpaste and gargled mouthwash, accidentally swallowing some as you replied back. Coughing at the strong taste burning his throat, his eyes widened as he memorized every pixel of the photo you sent, catching on to his little provocation.

The mirror in your bathroom was still slightly fogged but he could clearly see that all you were wearing was a t-shirt. It was big enough to cover your thighs, so Dalton didn’t know what you were wearing under it and he could see your nipples poking through the material ever so slightly. He dragged his lip into his mouth and bit down hard, hand clenching on the edge of the counter. He gathered his shower stuff and walked back to his room, keeping his towel gathered in a ball in front of his crotch in case he ran into anyone this late.

It didn’t occur to him to read the message you sent until he was about to send one himself. He was so distracted by your selfie that he completely forgot that he was in the middle of a conversation with you. He wondered if it was weird to be more turned on by you in your pajamas than you soaking wet and in a towel.

You: “Nothing much? What are you doing right now?”

He sat down on his art stool, and angled the camera at the mirror that sat in the corner between his spare bed and the wall. He hadn’t gotten the motivation to actually put it up so it laid on its side and only showed from his waist down at this angle. The picture showed his bare stomach, shorts and legs, with one of his feet braced up on the leg of his seat.

D: “Chilling in my room now, you?”

You responded a minute later in much the same fashion. This photo didn’t show your face either, but he could see your hair and the junction between your neck and shoulder at the top of the photo. You were stretched out on your bed, your legs propped up in front of you and you holding the weight of your upper body on your other arm as you snapped a photo of yourself. From the way your shirt rode up on your thighs, you weren’t wearing any shorts, but he couldn’t see your underwear.

You: “Same. My roommate left to her parents’ house so I have the place to myself.”

Was this your way of implying that you wanted him to come over? How does he respond to that information without sounding weird or letting on that he’d already known? Should he tell you that he already knew? He decided that now was the perfect time to reorganize his desk and actually put up the mirror in his room. It took fifteen minutes for him to respond and the guilt ate at him now that he knew how you reacted when he didn’t message back quickly.

D: “Oh, really? Yeah, I kinda always have my place to myself, haha :)Look what I finally did.”

The added “haha” looked so stupid that he wanted to jump out his window. He hoped the selfie he sent to you would make up for it. He was standing in front of his mirror, acting as if he was only trying to show you the mirror you’d been bugging him about putting up. He was still shirtless and a light sheen of sweat made his body glow slightly from the exertion of his impromptu redecorating. He angled his phone to show a grin, but the rest of his face was covered.

You took a few minutes to respond yourself and Dalton thought he understood your anxiety about having to wait for messages. He felt the anxiety was all the more potent now that you were sending each other photos of yourselves. But he couldn’t deny that he liked the tension, the anticipation ate him up and he was beyond keyed up.

You: “I got bored being here by myself so I’m doing my makeup :p”

You: “Oml, finally!”

You were kneeling in front of the camera with your legs slightly spread. The lighting in your room made it hard for him to see what your underwear looked like and he felt like a pervert for being disappointed. Probably not as bad as he would’ve felt before he knew that you reciprocated his feelings. Your hair was put up into an updo so it was out of your face and it reminded him of that Pamela Anderson hairdo that you complained about not being able to do. You looked beautiful, your makeup was darker than you normally had it, more like dark seduction than pretty fairy. Dalton wondered if that was on purpose.

He sent you a closeup selfie of half of his face, his eyes mostly angled down at the phone screen instead of the actual camera and a slight smirk on his lips. His neck, collarbones and one of his shoulders were on display for you as well

D: “Guess I got bored too. Your hair looks like Pamela Anderson’s, btw”

D: “I like your makeup, it looks good!”

You responded quickly and without a photo.

You: “Are you joking me?! The one time I’m not bending over backwards trying to do it right…”

Dalton had to take a minute to recover from the mental image of you bending over backwards, particularly the image of how your breasts would look at that angle when your next message came in with another photo.

You: “Come over?”

This time, your phone was placed close to the floor and angled up for Dalton to see your knees pulled up to your chest and you dramatically and exaggeratedly pouted at the camera, your dark red lips shining in the camera flash. The flash also, probably unintentionally, highlighted the junction between your legs and he could actually see your panties this time. White lace. Son of a bitch!

Instead of responding, he jumped around his room and tried to gather all of his shit to take to your place and was pulling up his jacket when he noticed some papers on his bed. His homework that he had told Chris about earlier and completely forgot about. It was due at midnight and his teacher was a hardass about homework.

“Fuck!” His curse echoed loudly in his empty and otherwise silent room and he slammed his things down on the bed in anger.

As desperate as he was to go to your room and potentially spend the night inside you, he was stuck inside his dorm unless he wanted his grade to tank. With a heavy heart and tense motions, he sat in his chair, a different one from his stool, and faced his mirror. He spread his legs so that he was man-spreading and propped a leg up on the edge of his bed. He held up his homework in one hand above his head and made a faux-angry face at the camera, his expression not even making at dent when it came to showing just how angry he actually was. He gave himself a minute of fantasizing about your lips kissing marks all over his body before snapping the picture and sending it to you.

D: “I was on my way when I remembered I had homework. Fucking sucks! Raincheck? I’ll bring you breakfast in the morning?”

He ordinarily didn’t curse over text, or in general. He wasn’t a prude about swearing, but he just didn’t feel the need to do it. However, he also needed you to understand that he wasn’t blowing you off, and then he genuinely was upset about not being able to spend the night with you. He felt it was probably too risky sending you a picture where he was very obviously at half-mast and worried that he was being too forward and would make you uncomfortable.

Two minutes of complete agony imagining all of the ways that you would dismiss him and tell him to forget about it, or get angry and misinterpret what he was telling you. Now that the conversation couldn’t go anywhere, the anticipation wasn’t alluring and fun, it felt like acid burning his skin.

You: “Oh, please do your homework! Grades are important. Breakfast sounds good! Goodnight x”

A kiss, you messaged him a kiss. And you were completely fine with it. For the first time in his life, Dalton felt the urge to do a chest bump with a bro. He was on top of the world right now. He was tempted to rush his homework and run over to you as soon as possible, but as soon as he sat down to do it, he knew that the assignment required all of his time and attention. Fortunately, the assignment itself was relatively simple, but it was incredibly time consuming, which is why he’d been putting it off.

Two hours later, he took some pictures of his completed homework and sent them to his professor’s email. It was fifteen minutes til midnight and he wondered if he should risk going over to you now. You weren’t expecting him, though, and for all he knew, you were asleep or something. He debated texting you that he was done and seeing if you’d extend the invitation to come over again, but you hadn’t even brought up his last picture and that made him a bit insecure. What if you were trying to just ignore it as a way to say you weren’t interested? Even back in your room, when your roommate was encouraging you to take advantage of having your dorm to yourself, you had only denied all of her sexual innuendos. He knew you liked him back, but maybe sending you a picture of like the one he sent was too much too fast?

Oh yeah, astral projector. He could always just pop in and check without actually having to check. It was fine the first time, right? No big deal anymore. He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He relaxed on his bed and before long, he was picking up that lantern once more and leaving his body behind, making sure that all of his lights were on to protect his body before he left the room.

You had been in your room with your door mostly closed when he came in again. You really should make sure your front door was locked, he thought. He heard little whimpers coming from your room and was immediately concerned, automatically assuming that you were crying. Your bedroom door was swaying on account of the industrial fan that you insisted was the only thing strong enough to keep you cool at night. He had no problem opening your door and putting it back in place, making it look completely natural in case you noticed.

From what he could see, you were looking at your phone and were mostly covered by your blanket. Only one of your hands was holding your phone, which Dalton found odd because you normally preferred using both hands. Finally seeing your face, Dalton noticed that you had no tears on your cheeks or in your eyes. You weren’t crying. What the hell were you looking at on your phone?

Him. You were looking at a picture of Dalton that he’d sent to you. More accurately, you were looking at the second photo he had sent you, the one where he was brushing his teeth. It took Dalton several moments to begin thinking again to put the dots together.

Oh. Oh.

Just as Dalton registered what you were actually doing, you threw your blanket aside in frustration and essentially showed him that he was correct. He watched in rapt fascination as you rubbed your clothed center over your panties with two fingers. You kept focused on your phone, swiping over to the photo of him after he hung up his mirror, as your index fingers slipped beneath your lacy white underwear and into your slick heat. Your breathing was loud and shallow, the occasional moan slipping through as you touched yourself.

Dalton should not be here. He knew that. He knew what was and what wasn’t appropriate, his mom made sure he knew how to respect women, so he knew what he was doing was the furthest thing from okay. He also knew that he would have to be dragged by his teeth to get him out of your room. His cock swelled and twitched from under his shorts as he stood over, watching you masturbate to a picture of him. In the low lighting of your mostly dark room, he could see the shine of your wetness on your fingers and over your folds. He wanted to drag his tongue over your labia and savor every drop you gave him. It was all for him, after all, he was entitled to it.

You groaned in annoyance through your teeth and yanked your panties down your legs. Dalton’s severely dilated gaze zeroed in on them and he made a mental note to grab them before he left when your shirt joined it in the floor. You were completely nude and sitting up on your bed, in a very similar position to the photo where you had shown him your makeup. He’d never look at it again without thinking of this. He wished he had a picture of this.

You looked like a goddess or some kind of celestial siren as you arched your back and groped at one of your breasts and toyed with your clit. The chill of your room and the sudden banishment of your blanket had your flesh covered in goosebumps and your nipples hard. Dalton wanted nothing more than to cover your body with his and discover new forms of pleasure using his tongue, hands and cock. You were everything, you surrounded him and took up so much everything. And yet, he wasn’t actually with you, no matter how much he wished he could be. He didn’t know why he couldn’t try, you were his now. You admitted to it. Maybe not to him directly, and maybe you didn’t know he was there, but it didn’t make it any less true.

Dalton approached your bed and was about to rest his weight on it when you grabbed a decorative throw pillow from the mountain of pillows you had on your bed. You shoved it between your legs and adjusted it so that the woven seams pressed between your folds. You rested your weight on it and rolled your hips experimentally to find a rhythm and angle that felt best. Soon, you were panting and gasping, and Dalton could barely hear you over the stupid fan.

As you rode the pillow, Dalton lost his restraint. He either had to take care of himself now and fully condemn himself as an actual peeping tom and a pervert, or take care of you and risk you freaking out and losing you before he could actually have you. He’d rather hate himself for a little while than you hate him forever. He reached into his shorts, cupping his erection and squeezing lightly. He bit his lips and tried to keep quiet. He didn’t think he would last long, and he didn’t really care to either. He’d worry about that once he was actually inside you.

Dalton started off with slow and trading strokes before working up to the rhythm you set for yourself. You were grinding down on the pillow with slow and long thrusts, lowering your body slightly so that the seam of the pillow rubbed your clit. Dalton imagined his face replacing the pillow and started speeding up the movements of his hand, spitting on himself to help his hand move more fluidly along his shaft. Coincidentally, you started to quicken as well, humping the pillow desperately instead of steadily rolling your hips.

“Dalton! Oh…fuck! Daltonnn…” you cried out softly into the seemingly empty room. As the waves of your orgasm crashed over you, you lost strength in your arms and fell to the mattress, your hips still moving rhythmically as you came. Your limbs felt electrocuted and twitchy, and you could do nothing but gasp and whimper as you came down from your high. Rolling over, you reached down and caressed your soaked folds, moaning softly as your fingers became coated in the stringy remnants of your wetness.

Dalton nearly fell to his knees in his desire to suck your fingers into his mouth and devour your cunt. Luckily, he managed to stay upright and went rigid as he came in his hands, making sure the pearly white spurts of semen didn’t make a mess anywhere in your room, if they could. He wasn’t actually entirely sure how it all worked when he was in this state, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

He waited until you fell asleep to grab your panties and leave your dorm, falling back into his own body and finding it a mess. His shorts were soaked at the crotch with his cum because his actual hands couldn’t stop his real orgasm from staining his clothes. He tore off his shorts and decided to sleep naked, hiding your panties in his pillow case.

*~*~*

You woke up refreshed and well-rested the next morning, still not used to the stillness and quiet in the absence of your roommate, Carla. Usually, she was up by now blaring metal music while she got ready for the day and you would make the two of you breakfast. You went to do just that when you heard a knock at your door and remembered that Dalton was supposed to come over with breakfast.

You told him to wait through a text message and grabbed a pair of athletic shorts, yanking them on as you made your way to let him in. Much to your surprise, the door was unlocked, though you don’t remember leaving it that way. In all fairness, you also don’t remember the last time you had locked it, so it was fair game.

Dalton greeted you with a large smile, showing off his extended canines, and a bag from your favorite pastry shop. It was hard not to blush after what you did when you saw the pictures he sent you, but the food was also distracting. You excitedly took the bag from him and started rifling through it as he guided the both of you to your room. Had he ever been inside your dorm before? How did he know which room was yours?

Before you could ask him, he plopped himself onto your bed and settled onto his stomach. He then used a pillow to prop up his chin. The same pillow you had used last night.

There was something about the way he was smiling at you. The way he was watching you.

“So, did you sleep well last night?”

********

Lemme know if you want a part two or maybe a “What if Dalton hadn’t had any homework?” situation.

This was super fun and sorry if it’s too long

#Spotify #romance #dalton lambert #insidious films #insidious: the red door #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert smut #smut #stalking #pervert!dalton

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mammalsofaction · 5 months ago

Note

Hi I wanted to ask you about a fanfic idea? You don’t have to answer this but I have a couple ideas and I’ve been to busy to really put it to use.

You know in the movie into the 2nd dimension where Perry’s able to hold up 2 kids, 1 teen, and a fully grown evil scientist. I thought of the idea of what would happen if his host family saw that or if he got a bit to rough with Dr d during a fight.

You might have already had this idea or have even already done it but i thought it would be a fun short fic or something.

Early Days

Rating: G

Relationships: Bg Lawrence Fletcher/Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Characters: Linda Flynn-Fletcher, Lawrence Fletcher, Perry the Platypus, Heinz Doofenshmirtz mentioned, Flynn Fletcher siblings mentioned

Add tags: Non graphic depiction of violence, non graphic depiction of injuries, family feels, light angst, PnF S1 Hail Doofania, human Perry the Platypus, mute Perry the Platypus

A/N: This takes place in the early days of Perry and Heinz's nemesis ship. In the episode Hail Doofania in S1, Perry spends almost the entire episode wearing a protective collar. His flashback shows us that Heinz pushed him down a sandpaper making factory that tore up the fur on his body, making Linda suspect he's scratching himself up due to some sort of rash.

In the human!Perry version, I take this further to mean that he's wearing some sort of neck brace, meaning that Heinz had--at some point early in their relationship--had hurt him quite bad. I thought it's fitting to fulfil the ask. Perry still calls Heinz 'Doofenshmirtz'.

This fic mainly centres around Perry's relationship with Linda and Lawrence, and how they worry for him. The boys are maybe 5 years old here, making Candace 10.

If you want to understand the reference to Ferb's mom, i recommend reading my human Perry lore post linked in my pinned post.

Im sorry this took so long @salty-frenchfry . Between life happening and my laptop going Ka-put, finding the time to properly address this ask took longer than I'd like. I never forgot it though! I hope this little short is ok 😭

---

In his line of work, injuries were unavoidable.

Often times, they were easy enough to hide. Bruises were most common. Perry's long since taken to keeping a spare set of make-up with a replenishable bottle of concealer on his person, whether that be the dash of his hovercar or the storage box beneath the seat of his scooter. And what the concealer couldn't hide, his sleeves and long trouser pants could.

He's good enough at what he does. That being said, sometimes Doofenshmirtz gets a lucky shot.

Linda stormed into his private ward like an avenging angel, and Lawrence trails behind her in a more sedate, nevertheless eager pace. The nurse, as well as a be-suited nameless OWCA insurance representative slips out silently to leave him to their harried concerns, though not before the former sends him a small smile for good luck. The married couple barely notices.

"What happened?" Linda demands. Lawrence makes himself at home in the bedside chair, letting his wife take charge of the mother henning for now. "The hospital told us you'd gotten involved in a car accident? Oh Perry, your handsome face." She cried, bottom lip wobbling, and if Perry didn't have his left hand in a cast and his body completely leaden with drugs, he would have reached out to reassure her. As it was, he could only attempt to do what he can with a strained smile.

He hadn't known, until this point, what excuse OWCA had given the Flynn Fletchers to obfuscate the circumstances surrounding the severity of his injuries, but he really should have guessed. OWCA loved car accidents. In truth, he'd lost his balance over the edge of a rooftop while fighting with Doofenshmirtz, and he'd somehow managed to push Perry over. Perry had fallen through a roof of a sandpaper making factory, down 20 feet onto some crates and toppling heavy machinery. He'd almost broken his neck, fractured his left wrist, dislocated his left knee joint (the side that had broken his fall) and his face looks like he'd gone 5 rounds with Mohammad Ali. Thankfully he'd found he'd managed to thwart Doofenshmirtz's scheme anyway (he'd thrown a shoe into the revealed gearwork of his Unpaved-Inator, a machine designed to revert paved walk lanes into unstable cobbled paths. As if Danville didn't suffer from enough sabotage in terms of accessible walkable infrastructure), so at the very least, it was not a complete failure. The paperwork would've been impossible, instead of just insufferable.

He'd been given a voice to text machine by his bedside by his functional hand, a small voice box in respect to his disability, and he uses it to lie in it's emotionless vaguely feminine robotic voice. "T-boned into a truck running a red light." He says. OWCA would take this lie and run with it later. "Thrown onto the road. Think it slipped."

Linda and Lawrence made appropriately sympathetic noises. When Perry lolled his head to the side, he realizes his brother-in-law looks far more haggard than he'd initially noticed; red rimmed eyes and a glassy smile. Stiff upper lip. Well. Ferb had gotten it from someone. "You'd scared the children out of their wits, Perry." He says quietly, likely to conceal the shaking in his voice. "They're waiting in the car as we speak. None of us had quite the appetite for dinner after we'd gotten the news."

The strained smile slips into a slightly more sincere, more painful smirk. "Just the kids?" Perry asked, and Lawrence barks in laughter that sounds far too similar to a sob.

He can't imagine what he sees, what it must've been for him to have gotten the news. OWCA had told him it was a car accident too, for Ferb's mother nearly 5 years ago to the dot, now.

He'd not even got to see the body, then.

His heart squeezes in guilt, an all too familiar ache. Lawrence had been through enough: the point of a stable nemesis ship was to avoid injuries of such a caliber. To provide stability, safety. Security. Perry didn't want Linda, didn't want the kids, to ever worry about whether he would come home, especially not with the line of work he tells them he's involved in.

A gentle knock on the door heralds a familiar face: a specialist Perry had seen once or twice walking down the corridors of OWCA's medical bay as an emergency field medic, sans the white fedora with a red band denoting his position within the organisation.

This time he was simply wearing a signature Doctor's lab coat, holding a clipboard and flanked by a pocky young adult in scrubs, buzzing with caffeine. "Flynn-Fletchers?" He requested gently. Linda makes an affirmative noise, and the duo welcomes themselves inside the ward with that familiar professional smile.

"He's got banged up pretty bad out there." The doctor offers in a vague, sympathetic manner. "Has he told you what happened?"

Perry thinks he sees Lawrence and Linda share an unreadable look. "A car accident." Lawrence echoes hesitantly. "With a truck?"

The unnamed doctor nods, writing something down on his clipboard, likely the cover story he would need to report back to Francis shortly. "The impact had broken his collar bones and given him a mild concussion." He reports. The pocky nurse at hands out a print of Perry's X-ray reports, and Perry watches the married couple analyse the given print like it was anything comprehensible. "He'd landed on his left side, fracturing his left wrist, up to the back of his ulna, so we're casting it for now. No surgery beyond the one we've done to his collarbones immediately upon his arrival to the AnE, which has already been covered by his work insurance."

This seems to surprise Linda. " As an accountant?"

The doctor doesn't even blink. "Seems like it. Good health insurance plan. We're assigning him to a couple more days in the hospital to watch over his condition, and about 2 months bedrest before he can go back to work. If everything goes smoothly, we can discharge him by the end of the week. Any questions?"

"Paid vacation?"

It's a question asked through the robotic monotone of Perry's given voicebox. The doctor gives Perry a secretive, sympathetic smile for the unspoken concerns he understands far too well. "I'm afraid you will have to ask your superiors. My influence remain within these walls, I'm afraid. But I'll put in a good word."

Perry sighs. It comes out weaselly and creaky, and Lawrence reaches forward to squeeze his uninjured shoulder in reassurance. "Thanks, doc." Perry says, because he wasn't an animal.

"My pleasure." He says, which must've been some sort of cue. The pocky nurse moves to exit, leaving them with the X-Ray prints, and holding the door open. "I'll let you get your rest, and you may refer to Consultation for any questions regarding visitation hours. We'll be able to greenlight him tomorrow."

Linda and Lawrence thank him, watching him leave before they redirect their attention back to Perry's prone form.

Linda has her lips pursed in displeasure. "Your boss doesn't really want you back so soon after your accident, would they?"

Perry sighs again. This time, the exhales brings his attention to his parched throat. "I can't say." He types into the voicebox. It's not the answer she was looking for, he can tell from the continued sour look of her face. Lawrence face becomes even more pained.

"Can you promise you won't be doing this again?" He requests, and while his throat and his guilt tears him from the inside out, Perry lets himself chuckle lightly.

"I can't help these things, Lawrence."

The silence that follows is heavy with things Perry feels they're both keeping from each other. Linda sits heavily in the chair next to her husband, and reaches out to squeeze his hand, hanging limply by the armrest. Lawrence looks him in the eye, pointedly silent, and he smiles something wane and unreadable.

"No," he says. "No, I don't suppose you can."

#Phineas and ferb #choice of fic #choice of ask #request fill #linda flynn fletcher #lawrence Fletcher #human perry #mute perry #light angst

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rockermybuddie · 4 months ago

Text

Insecurity

A/n: lets pretend that thats Tommys hand in the gif lol!

Tommy x Evan “Buck”

•This is a sequel to my previous story Misunderstanding

Summary: Tommy and Evan are still working on getting their relationship back on track after Kaleb kissed Tommy after a misunderstanding. Evan is still kind of hurt by it even though he knows Tommy wont hurt him hes become insecure about his body now that he saw how well fit Kaleb was. Evan hides it well but when hes on a call what hes been doing to his body comes out.

Tw: Eating disorder, self harm

———

~Tommys POV~

I open my eyes when i hear a ringing sound coming from the nightstand. I look at the time 6am, time to get ready for work. I turn off the alarm and reach over to wake up Evan but to my surprise his side of the bed is empty. I look towards the bathroom but it was empty.

Its been three months since the Kaleb incident, Evan and I’s relationship has hit a small bump but we are slowly working on it. I’ve been really trying to show Evan how much i truly care about him through everything and anything.

Saying i love you a lot, cooking homemade meals for us, surprising him with little gifts.

I let out a big streach as i get put of bed to go find Evan. When i walk down stairs i can smell sausage and eggs. I look on the stove and see a pan that has scrambled eggs, sausage, hasbrowns, and onions in it. I hear a steady thump coming from the garage.

When i open the door i see Evan running on the treadmill in a sweat suit. “Evan!” I say loud so he can hear me. Its 6am why is he running on the treadmill? When he doesn’t respond i walk over in front of the treadmill.

Evan comes to a stop when he sees me, sweat dripping down his face, he looks exhausted. “How long have you been down here?” I ask him. “Only an hour.” He answers. “I left you breakfast on the stove.” He tells me. “Wheres your breakfast?” I ask. “I already ate.” He says. I notice he broke eye contact with me when he said that which made me question if he actually ate or not.

“Oh, what did you eat?” I ask him. “You know, just my norm.” He says shrugging his shoulders. He moves over to the mat on the floor and starts doing pushups. As hot as he looks working out im a little concerned about him.

“Evan.” He looks up at me as he continues on. “Why are you working out so early?” I ask. “Just getting a quick work out before work.” He says as if this is something he does everyday.

“Why dont you come and eat with me and then we can take a shower together before we go to work since we wont see each other.” I suggest. Which i would like to spend sometime with him before we head to our shifts.

Evan gets up and walks into the kitchen with me. I grab the pan and i spilt my breakfast with him even though he tried to stop me. I told him that after that work out he needs to eat again. After we ate we went back upstairs and took a shower.

I wrap my arms around Evan as i bring him closer to me feeling myself against him. I give soft kisses on his neck as i move my hands down his body. As im about to take him into my hand he turns off the water. “Evan?” I question, he usually loves a quick one before a shift.

“Not right now.” Is all he says and gets out of the shower. “Is everything okay?” I ask him. He shakes his head yes as he drys off. I dont let it get to me its been awhile since we had intimacy so im craving it but i need to respect Evan and how he wants to handle us at the moment.

As we say our goodbyes in the drive way before heading our separate ways i tell him how much he means to me and that if theres anything he needs to talk to me about he can. Evan insures me that everything is okay, i smile at him giving him one more kiss before we both get into our cars.

I watch as Evan backs out of the driveway and drives off. I get my phone out of my pocket and pull up Eddies number. I type out a text to keep an eye on Evan but hesitate to hit the send button.

If i send it then it will cause a worry and Evan might be upset about it or it’ll be a good thing to have another person who is close to Evan checking on him.

I ended up sending the message anyways and immediately got a text back saying ok. That made me feel a little better but not a lot.

———

~Bucks POV~

I arrived at the station pretty early, i sat in my car for a few moments and thought about Tommy. Hes been really trying to make up for the Kaleb situation three months ago. I know now that it wasnt Tommy fault at all but part of me is still clinging on to the anger i felt.

I still love Tommy i know he was questioning me alot this morning because i think only insane people exercise at 5 in the morning. But when i saw how fit Kaleb looked i figured Tommy will like me more if i was smaller.

I open my door grabbing my bag and headed into the firehouse. I threw my bag in my locker and changed my clothes. I headed over to the work out area and got on the treadmill and started jogging making my way to speed.

“Hey Buck.” Eddie says walking up to me. “Hey.” I say focusing on my running. “Can you help me with something?” Eddie asks. “Sure.” I tell him. I slow down on tbe treadmill as it comes to a stop. When i go to step off i get real light headed all of a sudden and kind of stumble back.

“Woah, you okay Buck?” Eddies asks grabbing my shoulder to steady me as i grab the arm of the treadmill. “Um yeah. Yeah im fine.” I say waving a hand. My head stops spinning and i can focus now. Eddie looks at me making sure im actually okay before we go off and do whatever he needs.

We had some calls come in but they all went smooth. Eddie kept checking in on me though, i dont know why.

We are back at the station now and Bobby is cooking dinner while the others are upstairs playing a game. They asked me to join but i wanted to go down and get another work out in.

“Buck, Dinner!” Eddie yells from the balcony. “Okay, coming!” I yell back. I think about how i’m going to do this because if i dont eat they are going to start asking questions. Its not easy to lie about eating at work then it is at home.

I head upstairs and took my seat at the table. “You need to go shower Buck.” Hen says scrunching her nose. “Sorry.” I say, I think this is a good excuse, i can shower while they eat and just say im going to eat when i get done. “No sit down Buck. You can shower when we are done.” Bobbh says raising his fork at me when instood back up.

“Why are you working out so much? That was like your fith work out today.” Eddie asks. “Just trying to stay in shape.” I answer, which isnt a lie.

When we finished dinner i went to the bathroom to shower but first i went into a stall and squatted in front of the toilet. I took my two fingers and stuck them down my throat making myself gag in till i threw up.

When i finished i was about to get in the shower when the bell rang. I swished some water in my mouth and splashed some on face and headed to the trucks.

“Buck you okay?” Hen asks looking at me with a weird expression. “You’re awfully pale.” She reaches her hand out and feels my face. “Yeah im fine.” I tell her, even though i was fighting the urge to pass out. I needed to keep my focus, we were on a call.

When we got to the scene it was an apartment fire, me and Eddie were searching for a young boy on the 5th floor who got separated from his mother.

My head felt like it was going to fall off, i was so dizzy i dont think i was walking in a straight line. Walking up the stairs with my gear on almost took me out. “Buck, are you okay?!” Eddie asks me putting his hands on my shoulder staring at me through his mask. “Yeah.” I shout trying to focus. But there was too many things to focus on.

“Buck, Eddie. The little boys been found, get out of there.” Cap says on the radio. “Come on Buck.” Eddie says, he knows something is wrong and hes about to get it out of me as soon as were out of here.

We are walking back down the stairs, im in front all of a sudden the room starts spinning and my eyes roll back. The last thing i heard was “Buck!”

———-

~Tommys POV~

“Hello?” I say answering my phone. “What hospital?!” I leave the station telling Stevens i have an emergency. I get in my truck and drive to the hospital Evan is at.

My heart is racing, Eddie called me telling me that Evan blacked out on a call in an apartment building and fell down the stairs. Hes at the hospital now.

When i arrive i rush in and go straight to the nurses station. “Evan Buckley.” I tell her. “Tommy.” I hear a familiar voice my head snaps in the direction and i see Bobby.

“Where is he?” I ask him. Bobby leads me to Evans room. When i walk in i see him sitting up in the hospital bed. A big bruise on his shoulder, i guess from where he hit the wall and the oxygen tube in his nose.

“Im so glad you’re okay. You scared me.” I sat on the side of his bed and wrapped my arms around him. He winced a little at that but rested his head on my shoulder.

The doctor came in and informed me that Evan hasnt been eating and has been overworking himself. Eddie also told me that Evan was constantly running on tbe treadmill everytime they were back at the station.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” I ask him. “Please tell me the truth.” I held his hands in mine. “So i can look good.” Evan says, voice low. “You already look amazing Evan.” I tell him confused.

“No. Kaleb looked good. I need to look like him.” Evan snaps. My heart sunk and i felt for Evans pain. Im stunned and upset that i didnt catch this before.

“Evan, i love the way you look. I love you for who you are. Dont you ever compare yourself to someone else. Because i don’t want someone else, i want you.” I run my hand across his cheek cradling his face in my hand wipping away his tears.

“I’m sorry. I dont know why im still caught up with this.” Evan apologizes. “Dont apologize Evan. Its okay i promise. I understand, i would still be upset too if the roles were reversed, but its not. We’ll get there Evan just please talk to me.” I ask of him. He nods.

“Just please dont hurt yourself. I cant lose you.” I give him a kiss both of our lips shaking together.

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