#anyway this stupid chapter is 5k words already

[momosandlemonsoda]

Six Sentences Sunday

Shockingly, I managed to get some time to write this weekend, so have some sentences from the next chapter of the rock star au.

*

They all settle back down on what turns out to be a pale blue blanket, Fang Duobing pulling out his lunch, the girls going back to theirs. They manage a little bit of small talk about classes, enough that Kira starts to unfreeze and Fang Duobing allows himself to feel hopeful. 

“So,” Chenchen says, cocking her head, “what’s the emergency? Why do you need to up your nonexistent game?”

He mimes throwing a napkin at her. “Mean!” 

She just grins. “The truth hurts, Bing-ge."

[reignpage]

Basketball Captain!Toji

Toronto Raptors: home win

Word Count: 5k Warnings: fluff mostly, a little angst, cursing, mentions of darker themes but nothing too serious, not proofread, final pre-relationship chapter, thus concluding toji's story for now,

“Come on,” is all Toji says when you open the door to his solid knocks. 

He doesn’t say anything else as you follow him out to his car, where you strap in, confused and unsure. Still in his gym clothes, you can tell he came straight from training, and there’s tension in his shoulders that’s usually all worked out after a good session bullying his teammates relentlessly.

The man just showed up, unannounced, at your door after noon. He didn’t greet you with a kiss or a sneaky squeeze of your ass. He simply urged you to follow him and so you did. Silent, uncharacteristically so, he just led you down. 

With a sigh, you breach the silence when he starts the car up. “It’s pretty cold outside, Fushiguro. I don’t understand how you can stand to be in shorts every day.”

“It’s not that cold, ma.” He snorts. His veins are prominent, bulging from how tense he is, but he eases his grip on the steering wheel enough for you to lose that fear he’ll veer off a bridge or something.

“Where are we going?”

He throws you a side glance, hand falling on onto your thigh with a squeeze that you can’t be sure he means to be comforting but rather just to cop a feel. Though you appreciate it, you can’t help but feel even more anxious.

“You wanted me to prove that I’ve changed, that I’m willing to change. For you. So, that’s what I’m doing.”

There’s a conviction in his eyes, a fire you only ever see when he’s playing a game, when he’s facing all the opposing players dotted along the court but all he sees is the way through to get to glory. In your short time of knowing Fushiguro, you’ve learnt that he’s a pretty laidback guy. Rarely does he ever get riled up.

His ability to remain calm under any situation is one of the many things you admire about him -- he was reliable when he helped you with your ex, when he made dinner every night as your roommate, and when he picks you up and drops you off all over campus for this and that. 

Though the boundaries of your relationship had never been established, you can’t help but feel like dating him wouldn’t be so bad. After all, that’s practically what you’ve been doing this entire time when he brings you coffee after your class or when he just shows up at your door randomly with an overnight bag. 

You like him. 

You’ve never denied it. 

But you’re not stupid. 

Toji Fushiguro is a manwhore. It’s a term you dislike, and you know he’s so much more than his sexual history, but that history is extensive. And though you’ve daydreamed you could be more than a notch on the proverbial bedpost, you’ve never deluded yourself into thinking that he’ll propose to you after a night of great sex. 

It would be unfair of you to expect him to change anyways. 

However, this past week or two, something about him had shifted. He’s become more serious around you. You could tell when he scolds you for your unhealthy diet consisting of overly sugary cereal and fruit-flavoured candies. Or when he actually takes the time to read your work and sends even just a quick message expressing his thoughts. 

Nowadays, he walks around with an arm around you and introduces you not as a friend but by your name and his friends seem to understand exactly what he means. Now, people know who you are and they stop to greet you in the hallways, and all you can do is stutter out an awkward greeting. 

It’s all so very odd. 

Is it possible he really means it when he says he wants you to be his girlfriend?

“You’re doing a lot of thinking right now, aren’t ya?” He asks. 

You didn’t even realise he’s parked already. You’re in an unfamiliar place: a very nice, wealthy area in West Eden. Up ahead, you see a picturesque estate often visited by flocks of tourists day in and day out. What with its tall, golden gates and lush garden, even grander than Eden’s National Park. 

It’s a mansion belonging to an old money family. Even you know their name. The same kind of name often associated with the Gojos and the Ryomens.

“What are we doing at the Zenin Manor?”

He doesn’t answer, simply exits the car and opens your door. The arm strung over your shoulder does absolutely nothing to quell that anxiety inside, because written all over Toji’s face is that very same uncertainty and dread you’re feeling.  

His brows are furrowed, there’s no smile on his face, and when he frowns like that, his scar becomes even more prominent. He licks his lips, searching for the indentation on his skin as he eyes the towering fence lining the entire property as far as the eye can see. 

He doesn’t say a word. 

There’s no comment about how you should dress warmer, or how your ass looks in your jeans or how dead to the world he feels after training. Nothing. Except for a squeeze of your hand when it reaches his on your shoulder. 

You’ve never seen him look so…small. 

He doesn’t lead you to the gates but rather down the street, following the metal fencing. The manor is gorgeous and old. It carries the weight of centuries of wealth, power and integrity. Everything is calculated to perfection, from the symmetrically aligned shrubbery to the shiny windows. There isn’t a single leaf out of place, no blade of grass taller than the other, and even the cars parked down the road are all freshly washed and polished. 

There’s no doubt about it; the Zenin Manor is a work of architectural art. 

But there’s something off about the whole place, something detached or clinical. Perhaps it’s because there are no people — not in the streets, not in the huge lawn, and not in any of the windows. It’s like a ghost town. Or maybe it’s because everything is too perfect, too symmetrical and clean.

You’ve heard rumours about ghosts living in the Manor, stories of children’s screams echoing in the depth of the night, of blood splatters on walls, of monsters lurking behind huge trees. You know the stories the locals pass around about the Zenins – they dabbled in dark magic and colluded with the devil. Their descendants possess otherworldly powers and those that don’t are cast away, rejected by their kin. 

It’s the kind of folklore that attracts the tourists to begin with; they love the contrast of the pristine beauty of the home with idea of the horrors that fill it. 

As far as the building and the family is concerned, however, that’s as much as you know. Which doesn’t exactly fill you with confidence now that Toji is leading you into a maze of roads and alleyways of sorts. 

The fencing off the main street is weaker, the metal rusted and the shrubs sharper and sparser. You’ve lost your bearing now that Toji is leading you here and there, guiding you back and forth, left and right. And the houses across the street are smaller, older, and tightly packed. That sterile front is long gone. 

He stops.

When you look up at the Manor once more, you’re surprised to find it’s farther in the distance from the fence and you’re staring at what seems to be the back garden —though you’re certain no one would call it a ��garden’ when it more closely resembles a park. 

“Toji, I’m being serious. Why are we here?”

He sighs, arm leaving you and tucking itself in his hoodie pocket. Rocking on his feet, he jerks his head and replies, “There’s something I wanna show ya.”

You follow his gaze to a big cherry blossom tree, leaves rustling and petals flowing in the wind. It’s the only tree littering on the perfect grass and it’s pretty, as all cherry blossoms tend to be. But that isn’t what he’s looking at. 

No, Toji is looking at a little boy. 

He has black, spiky hair and wears a plain black shirt with shorts. He’s alone. Reading a book, he sits under the tree and is completely obvlivious to the two people watching him. 

If this was under any other circumstances, you wouldn’t think much more about the scene. Sure, you don’t know many little boys who read but reading a book isn’t a crime. It’s actually great for children, according to a study you read some time ago. 

But this boy is different. Not just because there’s a maturity to him that makes your heart ache, or the fact that a boy his age should be out with friends or at the very least should be watched by an adult, but because he bears a striking resemblance to the huge man beside you. 

“You have a son?” You screech. 

Toji snorts, hand flying to smush your face like you’re just too adorable not to squish. With an amused tone, he scolds, “Don’t jump to conclusions, ma. I’ve never not wrapped it before I tapped it.”

“Okay, so why are we staring at this kid? Tell me it’s not because this is a hobby of yours ‘cause I swear to god, if you need to be on a register, I’m gonna…well, I don’t actually know what I’d do but I’ll do something.”

He doesn’t look impressed with your little rant. In fact, he doesn’t even grace you with a response and instead puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly. 

You wince. 

The boy looks up, head jolting and gaze piercing right through you immediately. He sets his book down and runs over. Somehow, he looks even smaller when he reaches the fence, barely at your hip. He looks completely suspicious of you but says nothing. 

“Hey, kid,” Toji says, bending down to a squat. “How ya been?”

The little boy shrugs and holds the fence in his tiny hands. “Good. Who’s the pretty lady?”

There’s a look of pride that steals your breath when Toji looks up at you. He has that handsome smile on his face, the one that stretches his scar out and crinkles his eyes. The very same smile he gives you when he scores, and his eyes finds yours in the crowd. A smile that makes your heart beat a mile a minute and threatens to knock you on your feet. 

“This,” Toji announces with an exaggerated gesture to you, “is ma girl.” 

It isn’t the first time you’ve heard him say that, but it sure does feel like it. You release a shaky smile, bending down too to meet the little boy’s inquisitive gaze full on. Mustering a nurturing tone, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m y/n. What’s your name?”

“Megumi. He mentions you a lot when he visits. I thought you weren’t real, but I guess you are so, hi.”

“Oi, don’t be rude, ya little brat.” Nudging Toji and giving him a look, you urge him to explain further. “Oh, right. This is my little brother. Pain in my ass but he’s smart so I think I have to be nice to him when he becomes rich and shit.”

Aghast, you hiss, “Do you make it a habit of swearing in front of your brother?”

Something passes through his eyes, a spark of surprise and warmth, one that you can’t quite place. But you don’t have time to ponder it because shouting comes from the distance. 

“Shit, we gotta do. Come on, Megs,” Toji urges. 

With expert agility, the boy manoeuvres himself through the metal bars of the fence and reaches his arms up so he can be carried by his brother, who jerks his chin, signalling to run. 

You do. 

Ignoring the shouting behind you, you run through the maze of alleyways and roads, dodging trees and branches, and pumping your legs to keep up with the athlete in front of you. Despite holding up someone else’s weight, he runs incredibly fast. You’re not sure why you’re surprised and impressed considering he’s a basketball player but it’s all you can think about when you finally reach his car and strap in. 

Megumi sits in the back, fingers drumming on his bare knees as Toji drives off. 

You’re trying to catch your breath, panting embarrassingly whilst the other two seem unfazed, like the whole ordeal hadn’t happened, like Toji Fushiguro, captain of Eden University’s Varsity Basketball team, hasn’t just kidnapped a child from one of the country’s wealthiest families. 

“Gotta calm down, ma. Y’r gonna pop a blood vessel with how hard y’r grinding your teeth,” he advices, totally amused.

There’s no drop of sweat on his forehead, no flush on his cheeks, or a heave of his chest. He’s cool, calm and collected, and you hate him so much right now. 

“Fushiguro, tell me you didn’t just steal this boy away from his family.”

Toji’s jaw clenches. “I am his family.”

You groan, exasperated. What does any of this have to do with him begging to be your boyfriend? 

Does he think kidnapping impresses girls nowadays? Or maybe he thinks you’re the kind of girl who’s always wanted to be behind bars?

“Is this the right thing to do? Won’t we get into trouble?”

“We do this all the time,” the little boy remarks. He doesn’t look bothered at all, either. In fact, he smiles at you, teeth missing and gums showing, like he’s aware of the absurdity of the situation and is rubbing salt on the wound. 

You screech again, hands flailing as you heave for air. “I’m too young to go to prison, Toji. I can’t. I wouldn’t look very inspirational as a fugitive. And I don’t know how to fashion shanks out of forks!”

“She’s funny,” Megumi notes.

Toji laughs. He fucking laughs. 

“This isn’t funny, Fushiguro. Take him back. Take him back and explain that you found him wandering the streets or something.” 

Toji stops laughing. 

“No. I’m not taking him back. Not until I absolutely have to.”

He’s too casual about the whole thing, like he didn’t just make you an accessory to a crime. And it’s pissing you off in ways that’s making your brain malfunction. You’ve always known getting involved with him would bring you trouble but you assumed that trouble would manifest in a few jealous girls. 

That you could handle. 

Law enforcement? 

Your other hand reaches for the door handle, contemplating the possibility of jumping out and claiming he kidnapped you too. The door clicks. He locked you in. 

When you look up at him, he gives you a knowing smile, hand on the gearstick leaving to hold your thigh instead. You swat it away. Then, with a resigned sigh, he begins his explanation. 

“Listen. I know ya think this is crazy, and yeah, it kinda is. But he’s my brother. And I’m not doing anything to harm him. If anything, this is good for him.”

“Good? This is good for him? What are you talking about?” You stare in disbelief. 

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, it is good. ‘Cause you have no idea what those people do to him. They’re fucking insane. They never let him out. He never gets to play. He doesn’t even know any kids his age.”

“It’s the Zenin family. They’re all over the news. Would they actually abuse a child? Like, wouldn’t they want to avoid bad press?”

Both Megumi and Toji scoff. 

If they didn’t already resemble each other physically, that arrogant noise would have screamed their relation to each other. Guess being annoying runs in the family. 

“They control the media, babe. They decide what goes out on the papers. Trust me, I know.”

You gulp. He’s not suggesting he’s experienced it first hand, has he? 

His last name is Fushiguro, not Zenin. How could he be related to that family? 

He’s never been pictured with them, never mentioned his connection, and no one, not even in your Insider’s Line has that ever been whispered. But of course, he must be related somehow. His brother is a Zenin child, after all. 

“Y’r thinking that ‘cause my last name is Fushiguro, I’m not a Zenin, right?” Your silence is all the answer he needs. “I am a Zenin. Was raised as one. But I don’t want anything to do with them, so I changed my name as soon as I was eighteen. Emancipated myself and shit.”

Your voice is a little more than a whisper when you ask, “What did they do to you, Toji?”

He squeezes your thigh, thumb brushing before he answers, “They’re not good people. They don’t care about how far they push ya as long as they get results. They’ve started doing the same to Megs and I can’t get him outta there but I gotta, y’know? Even just for a little while. So he can get some fresh air, eat some fucking candy like a normal child or something.”

“They know it’s you, though, right?”

“Yeah. They bombard me with threats and shit, asking me to return him but it’s only when they show up at my door that I let him go. But I hate doing it every time. Hate having to say goodbye knowing he’s going back to that hellhole whilst I get to be free or whatever. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t pity us. We’re not a fucked-up charity case.”

You hold the hand on your lap, bringing it up to your mouth to lay a kiss along his knuckles. “I know.”

Neither of you mention the shake in your hand.

Toji pulls up to a drive through, ordering a bunch of junk food he’d always turned his nose up before but scarfs them down eagerly. He let Megumi order everything he wanted from the menu, even two milkshakes and a bunch of burgers no child could possibly finish. With no mention of the elephant in the car, you all feast on the mountain of greasy food from oiled up paper bags. 

Soon, the little boy is knocked out, crumbs all over his shorts and ketchup on his chin, a look of utter contentment on his face as he dozes off. 

You’re cleaning up the mess, crumpling up the papers and stuffing them into a big bag, busying yourself as Toji leans on a bent elbow through the window. You can tell he’s got a lot on his mind; he keeps looking at his brother through the rear-view mirror. 

Though you don’t think of them as a charity case, you do feel pity. It’s a situation you would never want to be in and it’s one they should never have to live through. But they do and you have no idea how to help. To think, that all this time, he’s been worrying for his brother, balancing his weird, messed up family history with his degree and games. You would have never figured it out. 

He’s always joking around, always working hard and living easy. How he has any time for taking care of a child, you would never know.

“He’s pretty cute, isn’t he?”

Toji is startled when you speak, almost as if he’s forgotten where he is. The tension in his face wears away though and his gaze softens when he takes in your adoring smile. Hand rising, he thumbs away a sauce in the corner of your lips before he leans forward, lips meeting yours.

It’s not rough and messy the way he kisses you before he’s ripping your clothes off as he pins you to the wall. It’s soft and gentle. A kiss just to feel and taste you. A kiss that shows his appreciation and you return it.

“Y’r a champ,” he says against your lips. 

You giggle. “I didn’t do anything.”

He playfully bites your bottom lip before he argues, “Ya did a lot. I’m always nervous doing this. The sneaking around and shit, but it helped that you were here.”

You kiss him again, hands cradling his face. 

The sun is setting and it’s growing colder outside but being in the warmth of your own little cocoon with Toji holding you close washes away any worries about what tomorrow will bring. 

“This is why I brought ya here,” he begins. “I wanted to show ya a different part of me. Wanted to explain some things.”

You shake your head. 

“You don’t need to explain anything you’re not ready to.”

He pecks your lips and with a laugh, he says, “You’re too sweet, ma. But I wanna. D’ya remember when you caught me with that girl in my place?”

You pull away. 

“Oh, come on, don’t get all mad again. I’m explaining that it was a misunderstanding. Well, kinda. I was sleeping with her, yeah. But not ‘cause I liked her or anything.”

Swatting his groping hands away, you scoff. “Are you seriously telling me you slept with her because you hate her?”

Toji laughs again. “Nah, ‘course not. Barely even knew her. She just works part time as a maid in that place. She takes care of him sometimes.”

“So?”

He grabs your thigh again. “So, I used her to keep tabs on him. Women tend to be more loose lipped after an orgasm or two.”

You’re blinking rapidly, trying to process the information. “You slept with her just to keep an eye on your brother?”

Shrugging like there’s absolutely nothing remotely crazy about that, he replies, “Yeah. Been doing it for a while. Not since then, actually. But since I ran away. Not just her, either. Anyone who can tell me what’s going on in that house. Sometimes, Megs can’t come out and he doesn’t leave for weeks and I just gotta know he’s safe, that they haven’t done something to him. I need to know that I’ll see him again.”

“Oh.”

It’s a pretty pathetic thing to say but it’s the only thing you can muster after an admission like that. Though it explains your relevance to the whole thing, you’re not sure exactly what he’s trying to say. Or maybe you are, and you just need to hear him say it. Maybe you need to hear it from his very lips, need to be sure that whatever’s going on between you isn’t just a fling, something to pass the time.

“Why are you telling me this, Toji? Spell it out for me.”

His piercing green eyes meet yours and there’s that warmth there again. It robs you of your breath and when his hand winds around your neck to bring you close, you don’t resist.

“I haven’t slept with anyone in over a month. Only you. Apart from my fuck ugly roommate, y’r the only one who knows about Megs, who knows about my past. Y’r the only one I trust enough to be around him. And I’ve never let anyone wear my jersey except for you. Y’r the only woman I’ve slept with more than like three times and I want to do it again and again and never stop. But that’s not the only reason I want to date you. Y’r fucking amazing. Y’r smart in ways I don’t really get, y’r funny and incredible and I fucking love ya. I think. I’ve never been in love before so I still gotta figure some shit out but I’m fairly certain.”

He kisses you again, hiding the heat in his cheeks and the nervous furrowing of his brows.

This time he kisses you with so much passion and fire you’re moaning into his mouth, and he swallows it with a bruising kiss. His possessive hands are everywhere, holding you close, feeling your body and you’re exploring his too, despite knowing it so well already. Neither of you can get enough of the warmth you’re generating. 

“I want to be with ya. And I know ya think I’m still sleeping around or something, but I’m not. I swear. I won’t sleep with anyone else. I’ll figure out how to keep tabs on Megs but don’t worry about it. We’ll be fine. I just want ya to know what y’r getting into if ya say yes to me.”

There’s an unsteadiness to his words as he mutters them against your lips, a quake and quiver you’ve never heard him have before. The way he holds you is lighter than usual too, like he’s expecting you to run away and never turn back, or he’s worried you’ll be swiped away. 

He looks so boyish in this very moment, so unsure of himself, so shy, you can’t help but smile. You brush over the bristles on his jaw and breathe in his musky scent, wholly enamoured with the strength you find in his body. 

“I do, Toji,” you breathe out. “I like you, too. I liked you a lot already and then you tell me you’re a really sweet guy who would do anything for his little brother? Fuck, I’d say yes if you asked me to elope.”

You’re joking. You think. It’s hard to tell when he’s kissing you again. 

“Let’s make it official, ma. Take me off the List.”

You gasp. “W-why? Don’t you like being on there? What about getting the best of Gojo?”

Toji skims his nose over the length of your neck, inhaling deeply before he mutters, “Don’t care about that freak. As long as ya like me, that’s good enough. Ya can still write about how hot I am and shit, won’t stop you there, but if I’m y’r boyfriend, people might accuse ya of favouritism.”

“You’re doing this to defend my journalistic integrity?” You jest, a low moan stuck in your throat as you rake your fingers through his hair.

He hums, lips dragging over your jaw to meet yours again. “Of course. Not gonna let anyone suggest ma girl is biased, even if she totally should be.”

Groaning in your mouth when you arch your chest into his hand, he tightens his hold and leans even closer. You’re losing yourself in the pleasure, that rush of something addictive as he lays it all out for you, and you greedily take everything.

You want more. You want all of him.

“Toji,” you whine.

Someone clears their throat. 

You part ways, panting.

“I’m still here,” is all Megumi says. 

Toji laughs and throws a balled-up tissue at the boy who slaps it away with a disgusted look on his face. “Had a good nap, kid?”

“I was until you started making kissing noises. Ew.”

You laugh and reach behind to give his knee an apologetic squeeze. Using a tissue, you wipe up that ketchup on his chin that’s been bothering you. Megumi doesn’t say a word, still eyeing you with suspicion, but he also doesn’t resist when you squeeze his teeny tiny hands. He’s just too cute. 

With a final look around at you and his brother, Toji starts up the car. “Alright, where to next?”

You don’t hesitate to announce, “My dorm.”

The car is lighter when he begins driving again. There’s a gleeful shine in his eyes as he throws you glances and clutches your hand. Your cheeks are hurting from how much you’re smiling but you don’t stop, you wouldn’t be able to even if you try. Something plays on the radio, and you hum under your breath, watching the scenery pass by. 

Megumi, lulled by the journey, falls back asleep and, after parking, Toji carries him in his arms as you lead the way to your room, making sure to keep quiet. Once inside, he lays him on the bed, tucking him in and brushing his hair back. 

For a little boy, he’s very well behaved. He sits quietly, listens and cleans up after himself. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t complain or get pouty. That just saddens you more. Sweeping his little figure, he looks a little lonely on a plain bed, hidden under feminine sheets.

There’s something wrong with the sight of a child alone at night and you know just how to fix it.

You ignore your boyfriend’s confused look when you venture over to your desk and pluck up the gift bag covered in dust. There’s no shame or embarrassment in the air as you finally address that looming object in your room, taking up space and reminding you of how quickly you opened your heart up. 

“I was gonna give this to you, but I think he’d appreciate it more,” you whisper. 

Toji takes offence to that and wrestles you into him, peppering attacks against your neck with his lips and tickling your sides. You fight him off with a barely restrained giggle. Fixing him a stern look, you distract him from touching you up by ripping the bag open and showing him what’s inside. 

“You made these?”

Shrugging, you explain, “There’s a crocheting society. I joined it so I could spy on the president because apparently, she’s been sleeping with a professor. I thought it would make for a good story.”

“Was she?”

You shake your head. “No. But she was sleeping with her cousin, so that was interesting.”

Toji snorts. 

“That happens way too damn often on this campus.”

“It really does!” You agree, with a look of disbelief. “Someone needs to do something.”

He comes up behind you, arms wrapping around your body and chin resting on your head as you both watch Megumi sleep soundly. It hurts your heart to think that the only fun the kid gets is when Toji finds the time and the opportunity to steal him away once in a while. And it hurts your heart even more to know that they have to say goodbye and wonder when the next time will come, if there’ll even be one.

Toji hums. “Kinda jealous he gets to have those all to himself.”

“You would have had them f you didn’t whore yourself out, Fushiguro.” 

He gropes your breast in apology. 

Placing the two handmade toys beside Megumi, you smile as he clutches them subconsciously, holding them close and inhaling deeply. Finally, the scene looks right. A child shouldn’t be without a toy, and from now on, he won’t be alone. 

Because, in his hands are two dogs, black and white, who’ll protect him from all that’s bad in the world now that they’ve been introduced to each other. Together, they’ll find a way to free him so that he can be with his real family. It might not be today or tomorrow, but eventually. It’s not good enough but it’ll have to. That’s what they both deserve. 

“Wanna fuck in the bathroom?” 

“Toji! Can you keep it your pants for one fucking second? Like seriously!”

[kamaluhkhan]

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[insomnya777]

I HAVE MORE WORDS:

want, hope, lemon, truck, tide, lost cause, last, dream, music, light

feel free to answer as many/few of these as u want, i just think they’re neat words

OMG YAYAYYAYAYAY i had so much fun looking for these ?????? ask game for anyone else who wants to send me more (please do?!!!) this is kind of long so. press the read more thing

want:

"I am taking care of you!" Joel protests. "I got you water!" "Wow," Etho deadpans. "So helpful, Joel. Really, do you want an award?"

literally from earlier this week. should probably be posted soon because i'm obsessed with it.

hope:

It's weird seeing Jimmy like this. In his old Captain America hoodie, that stupid  wedding ring still hanging from a chain on his neck, a hopeful glint in his eyes that is long gone by the time Limited Life comes around.

this one is so fun, its based off of this fic by apollothetransboy (if you see this. hi. that fic changed my brain chemistry) and i don't know if it'll ever be posted but it probably will be considering i have like a solid 5k already written for it

unfortunately i couldn't find any with lemon, truck, tide, or lost cause (that i hadn't already posted </3) but i did find one for last!!!

[REDACTED]: Name? Suspect 1: Grian. [REDACTED]: Last name? Suspect 1 remains silent.

this fic was so fun to write, i have about six chapters completely outlined. it was about the Murder Of Jimmy Solidarity TM and it was told entirely in transcripts of audio recordings. i really want to work on it now because i'm rereading it and some of this stuff is completely genius.

dream:

Scar dreams of the desert. Or, more accurately, he dreams of the past.

one of the first fics i ever wrote 🥹 it's actually making me sorta emotional rereading it because why is this actually good. have i lost some of my writing skills hello????

music:

Tango laughs. The sound is music to his ears. "Hi." He pauses, tilting his head to the side. It's adorable. "What are you doing here?"

little ranchers moment. i don't write as much for them anymore which kind of makes me sad i miss themmmmm!!!! this fic is actually extremely sad though you all should be very glad i havent posted it (yet)

finally!!!! light:

(For one, was Jimmy imagining things, or did Grian have a few new scars on his face?)  (Was it just an odd shadow, or were there wings behind his back? (And was it just the light, or did his eyes look purple this time around?)

i wrote this the day secret life premiered!!!! back when everyone was talking about grian being the secret keeper lololol that idea got in my head and wouldn't leave until i wrote something about it so this appeared. this fic was going to be titled The Perilous Misadventures of Jimmy Solidarity and it was going to be basically his entire secret life series except with Lore and Sadness™️

anyways the end unfortunately. this was very fun. too fun. i'm enjoying myself so much. what am i going to do with my life now that i have no words to search for. yes this is me super subtly guilt tripping everyone who's reading this to send me more words,

[callmemana]

Arms Wide Open, Catch Me If I Fall:

Chapter 4: Birdie’s Eye View

Word Count: 5k+

🚨Warnings: inaccurate Naval descriptions, angst and floof.

A/N: dividers by @sligheach-sidhe , cover by me ( @callmemana ). Thank you @bayisdying for proofreading!

A/N: There will be a change, each chapter will be at least 3k word count. Also, this will be my main focus on writing.

After the big blow up with Bo, Bird walked to the Garcia’s with Ozzy following close behind.

Tears stained her cheeks as she made her way to her bedroom and cuddled with her dog.

She would go in tomorrow and talk with Cyclone about redacting the offer to join the team, if it wasn’t too late.

If Robert didn’t want her here, then she’s not gonna stick around to take anymore of his awful behavior.

He’s acting like he did the last week he was in Lemoore right before he broke her heart.

Bird was a forgiving person, but she didn’t know if she could forgive him for this.

She got up and started to pack everything but the essentials back up into the boxes, she’d ask for tape and help loading her truck tomorrow.

Ozzy kept trying to nip at her legs, telling her to stop.

But Bird’s mind was already set, as soon as she could she’d talk to the Air Boss and ask to be stationed back in Lemoore.

She was just finishing up her last box when Baylie and Mickey came home.

“Why are you packed? What happened between you and Bob?”questioned Lucky.

“He was an asshole and pretty much told me he didn’t want me here. I’m going to talk to Cyclone tomorrow about being transferred back to Flordia. I’m not staying somewhere where the only person I really know doesn’t want me to be.”

“Maybe he was just surprised to see you is all,” offered Mickey.

Bird laughed humorlessly, “Trust me Mickey, what he said wasn’t because of that. I mean, seriously! How stupid am I to come here thinking that he’d be happy to see me? He was right, I ruin everything.”

Tears prickled at her eyes as she fixes her glasses.

“Birdie, what do you mean?” insisted Lucky, teeth slightly grinding together.

“Hey, you haven’t ruined anything.” reassured Mickey.

“He said that the whole week before he left, said I ruined his life and everything I touch. I can’t do that to you guys too.”

“Bird, you haven’t ruined anything for us, if anything you’ve made our lives better.”

“How? I’ve done nothing but cause trouble since I got here!” she cried, taking her glasses off to clean them of tears.

Baylie pulls her into a hug and Mickey joins soon afterwards.

“Because you have made our grey outlook on Bob turn to color. We only knew him as the shy man he is, and now, we might be able to see an outgoing, sarcastic, and whatever else he’s hidden from us, man.”

“You just don’t know him well enough yet. He was shy when we first met at bootcamp.”

“Oh, we need to know all of the stories about the young Robert Floyd.” declared Lucky.

Ozzy ran over and decided to also join the group hug, giving everyone sloppy puppy-kisses all over their faces.

“Oz, Ozzy, ok, ok, thank you bubs!” laughed Birdie as she lightly pushed him away, fixing her glasses on her nose.

She sniffled and wiped her eyes, standing up in the process to head to her room.

“I best be gettin’ to bed, I gotta be up early to see Cyclone anyhow. Thank you both for everything.”

The couple gave smiles and bids her goodnight.

The next morning Bird does her morning routine, walks Ozzy, and drives to base earlier than necessary.

She’s trying to navigate her way to the Air Boss’s office when she accidentally bumps into someone.

“Oh I’m so sorry! Here lemme help you,” blurted Bird as she immediately gets to the ground and starts to pick up the scattered papers and folders.

The woman was olived skinned and dark brown curly haired.

“It’s not a problem, I can pick them up myself, I wasn’t watching where I was going anyway.” the woman laughed, holding her hand out towards Amanda.

“I’m Alana Metcalf, most people here call me Cinco or Cin. Are you new? I saw that you were looking a little lost.”

She took the woman’s outstretched hand and shook.

“I’m Amanda Hallett, callsign Birdie, but I also go by Bird. I’m not gonna lie, I am incredibly lost.” Bird laughed, cheeks burning a bright pink.

“Well maybe I can help, who are you looking for?”

“The Air Boss, Beau Simpson. I need to talk with him about transferring back to my old base.”

“Oh, did something happen? Not enjoying San Diego?” she asked.

“You could say that. I just don’t think it’s a good fit for me.”

“Ah, I see. An ex is here huh?”

Birdie’s eyes widen and jaw slacked, “How did you know that?”

“I’m kinda friends with Bob and the dagger squad. Actually, my boyfriend is on the team too.”

“Oh…” said Bird before she put on a fake smile, “what’s his name?”

Cinco could see through the smile, but decided to table that for later when she could speak to Bob.

“Jake Seresin, but his callsign is Hangman.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“He is sometimes,” nodded Cin, “It’s because he always hangs his wingmen out to dry.”

“And he’s on a team? He sounds like he’s an ass. No offense!”

Cin laughs, “None taken, I know he can be one. He’s shown it many of times.”

The two women stopped infront of a wooden door with a name plate that read, ‘Simpson.’

“Anyway, here’s Cyclone’s office. I hope that you reconsider going back, I can tell that you will be a big part of our lives already.”

“And how can you tell, you just met me Cin.” Bird questioned jokingly.

“Because that man’s eyes still sparkle when you come up in conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Bob like this and I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

“So, you know?” she asked, eyes casted down.

“No, but I don’t think I need to know more than that he loves you.”

“He might’ve before, but he doesn’t now. Thanks for being my guide, I appreciate it.”

Bird gave the woman a little wave as she knocked on the thick door, waiting for the ‘Come in.’

Once the command was given, she entered and saluted the Air Boss.

“You are relieved, Leutenant,” he declared, looking up briefly to see who was there.

“Hello Vice Admiral Simpson, I was wondering if it was too late to ask if the contract could be void and I could be stationed back in Lemoore?”

“Not liking the company Hallett? I believe at one point in your first time here, you were very close to Leutenant Floyd.”

“Yes sir, we were, but recently ended our relationship.”

“How sad. Unfortunately, Hallett, it’s already been cleared and recorded. You’re stuck here until farther notice.”

“But Sir-”

“I didn’t ask for excuses, Leutenant. Just be glad it’s only for six months. Now if your done,” He shifted his eyes to the door.

That was not the news Bird thought she would be getting, Cyclone never liked her anyway.

So why does he have to be so determined to keep her here?

Unless he thinks this will be torture for her being near Robert, which it most likely will be.

She exited the room, leaving his door open just to piss him off more.

Bird went down the hallway a little and braced her back on the wall, groaning loud.

“Well who do we have here?” a woman with a British accent asked.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted you ma’am, I’m Leutenant Hallett.”

“No harm done here, I was just having breakfast at my desk with my friend. I’m Rachael Kazansky.”

Bird looked at her phone screen, checking the time. The meeting with Cyclone went on longer than she initially thought.

“I am so sorry but, I have to get to the hanger. It was nice meeting you though!”

Dragon smiled as the blonde woman scurried off.

She arrived late, the high ranks already in the room and stood off to the side.

“Nice of you to finally join us Leutenant Hallett,” announced Cyclone.

“I’m so sorry, Cyclone! Someone told me to go to Hell, I couldn’t find it at first, but guess what? I finally found it! And I just knew I’d see you here too!”

“Everyone, this is Leutentant Amanda ‘Birdie’ Hallett, graduated second at Top Gun in her class.” stated Maverick, a wide smirk on his features.

Robert muttered a displeased, “Birdie.”

Laughter poorly covered up could be heard around the hanger, mostly by the students. When Bird looked over at Warlock, he winked at her with an amused smirk on his face too.

“Back on the agenda, Maverick.”

“We will be doing an exercise to start training for an upcoming mission. The hard deck is at ten thousand feet and will not be broken this time. We’ll take Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, and Birdie first. Get suited up.”

With that, we all filed out of the door and headed to the locker room.

“You must have a big pair of balls on you if you can sass Cyclone without hesitation.” said a tall, blond haired man with sea green eyes.

“Cyclone’s had it out for me since my first time at Top Gun. Bob and I got yelled at all the time by him.” Birdie said as she rolled her eyes.

“Wrong, you and Thena got yelled at and Smiley and me tried to get you out of it.” smiled Bob.

“Yeah right, like I don’t remember the reason you got your callsign. You are just as much of a troublemaker Bo.”

She didn’t see the smirks and looks exchanged by the others.

“Since y’all know my name, I think it’s only fair I know your’s.” stated Bird.

A dark skinned man with a mustache spoke first, “I’m Reuben Fitch, Payback and Fanboy’s pilot.”

The next was another dark skinned man, a little lighter in shade, “Javy Machado, Coyote.”

“I’m pretty well known everywhere I go. Jake Seresin, callsign; Hangman.”

“Wow, maybe you should take the dick outta your personality. Your ego isn’t as big as you think.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you think-”

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll sack you so hard that your grandkids will feel your pain.”

“Damn, she doesn't play.” said a man with a 70’s porn-stache.

“Damn straight, and you are?”

“Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster.” he held out his hand, which she gladly took.

“It’s nice to meet you Rooster.”

They all came to the doors that separated the locker rooms.

The women went into the one on the left, the guys on the right.

Bird was halfway out of her civilian clothes when a small, shy woman came up to her.

“Hi, I’m Raven Mouse Fischer. I haven’t been on the team very long, but if you need any help with anything, I’d be more than glad to help!” chirped Mouse with a wide smile.

“Thank you Mouse, I might have to take you up on that offer,”

“I’m Bob’s pilot, Natasha Phoenix Trace. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Natasha. Thank you for keeping him safe when I couldn’t, I appreciate it more than you know.”

Phoenix was a little surprised when Bird brought her into a tight hug.

After the little meet and greet in the locker room, everyone was outside in the hanger getting ready to get in the jets.

Bird had her sky blue helmet on with the bird silhouette on the front with her callsign under and her squadron on the sides.

She wanted to have someone pat the top to ‘see if it works’ but didn’t want to ask anyone yet.

Bird saw Bo and looked away, there was no way she’d ask the man who had made a new crack in her heart not too long ago to do the preflight ritual with her.

“What’s wrong Bird?” asked Rooster as he stood by her plane.

“Nothin’, just missing old traditions we used to do before flying.”

“What did you do before?” he smiled, looking down at her.

“Used to smack the top of our helmets so we could ‘see if it was good’ and now I don’t have anyone to do that with.”

Without second thought, Rooster slapped his hand against the top of her helmet and whispered, “Good luck Bird. You don’t have to be scared to ask us to continue the traditions you did back in Lemoore, if they make you feel comfortable or a superstition you have we will help make you calm.”

Bird’s cheeks burned slightly, “Thank you Roos, I appreciate that.”

Bradley lightly pounds his fist on the top of her helmet again, “Anytime Bird. We’re all family now.”

She nods, looking away from him briefly before the other two men join them.

“Ready to fly Bird and Chicken?” asked Hangman, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, Bagman, let’s get in the sky.”

It took a while but soon all were in the air with the oxygen masks on and communication was silent.

Bird was flanked by the men, all looking around for Maverick and seeing nothing.

“So what’s your story Birdie?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t wanna, Bird.”

“It’s fine. Grew up in the midwest, went to bootcamp and then after I graduated I went to Top Gun.”

“What about when you met Baby On Board?”

Rooster’s voice cracked through the radios, “Leave her alone, Bagman.

“Woah man, we’re just trying to get to know our fellow aviator Rooster.”

Bird rolled her eyes at the men, typical.

“I’ll leave that to Robert when the time comes and HE wants to tell you.”

“Ooooh, she’s super mad if she’s using your name and not your callsign huh Baby On Board?”

“Why do you always have to be a dickhead, Bagman?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘always,’ I did save your life Chicken.”

“He did,” echoed Coyote.

Rooster was quiet after that and started to go a little farther ahead of them.

They flew for a little longer in silence before Coyote voiced everyone’s concern, “Where’s Mav?”

All four of us looked around, not seeing anything. “Oh fuck, he’s under our noses.”

After that was said, Maverick came up from out of nowhere. “Good Afternoon Aviators.”

Bird was the first to move out of the way, Rooster following her and Hangman and Coyote breaking off to the left.

The fight was on.

It took twenty six minutes for Maverick to shoot all of us down.

If we were supposed to be the best of the best, how come it took so little time for him to beat us in a dog fight?

Bird got out of her jet, took off her helmet and then gripped it in her fist angrily. She knew she could be better than she performed today, otherwise she wouldn’t be back at Top Gun.

“Don’t let this bring you down, we all got our asses handed to us and I bet you everyone will today too.” Rooster shook her shoulders lightly and a smile on his face.

Hangman and Coyote came over to her plane again and praised her flying as they all made their way to the rec room where everyone else is.

Once inside the room and out of the blazing sun, she saw that Bob was still sitting right infront of the radio with eyebrows furrowed and bitting him lip.

What was he so worried about, he had no right to be for me. He lost it the day he broke my heart.

It was later in the day when everyone had failed and walking back to the locker rooms that everyone was talking and laughing together again.

“So Bird, would you like to go to the Hard Deck later?” asked Mickey, a smile on his face.

“No thank you, Mickey. I should unpack, I’m going to be here for a while.”

“Oh that’s great to hear, how long?” chirped Mouse.

“I’m here for six months, then wherever they send me afterwards.”

Lucky glares at Bob, angry at that he almost made her go away.

“We can help if you need?”

Bird smiled, “Thanks for the offer, but it won’t take too long.”

“Well if you end up needing help, don’t be afraid to call any of us.”

“She wouldn’t need you Bagman, Birdie has Mickey and me to help. Also stay away from my house or I’ll kick your ass.”

Jake put his arms up in mock surrender, eyes wide and a smirk on his lips.

The three of them went back inside the Hard Deck and grabbed the others and went out back to talk on the deck.

Once all of the aviators had sat down, Bob took a deep breath.

“I think I might owe y’all an explanation on why I’ve been acting so short tempered lately.”

“I’d say.”

“Shut up, let him speak!”

“Yeah, I wanna hear why.”

“Well, before we left for the mission, I was engaged,” he took his dogtags out of his shirt and showed the ring.

A dainty little gold ring that looked as if it was sticks with small diamonds decorating it was on the chain.

“To an aviator named Birdie. I broke off the engagement and then moved to San Diego a week later.”

Bob ran his hands in his already messed up hair, “So when Lucky was giving hints as to who the new member was, she was just reminding me of her. I didn’t want to think about Bird, so instead I got angry and shut everyone out. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why break up with her, she’s a pilot too. She’d understand.”

Bob laughed sadly, “Because I’m in idiot. I don’t really want to get into it tonight.”

“Hate to break it to you Baby On Board, but I already kinda knew. Seriously, I mean, did you forget that I have access to personal and personnel records?” sassed Cinco.

“I’m so glad that you found your forever Bob and I can’t wait to meet her! What’s she like? Chirped Mouse.

Baylie took point in answering this, “She’s amazing, beautiful, fantastic, lovely, smart, funny, sweet…”

“Okay, we get it Bay, if we weren’t married you’d marry bird and make her one of your sister wives.”

“Damn right I would, too bad I’m stuck with your ugly ass.”

“Ouch.”

“Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

Bay shrugged while Mickey put his hands up in mock surrender.

“As you were saying Bob?”

“I messed up and broke up with her the harshed way possible so she wouldn’t think about me when I was on the mission. And with her back in my life I can’t help but have those feelings again.”

“So you never got over her?” questioned Phoenix, eyebrows furrowed.

Bob shook his head, “No. She’s my everything. I’ve known her since I was eighteen, we met on the first day of bootcamp. I knew by the end of our first date that I was gonna marry her.”

Dragon and Whiskey just screamed in happiness at the confession, they had never really heard Bob speak so passionately about love before and wanted nothing more than to hear everything he had to say.

Mouse was the first to speak, “That’s really sweet and I’m happy you found someone who makes you feel like that, but…” she took a deep breath, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t offend him, “If that’s true, why did you end things with her?”

Lucky stood behind Mouse, arms crossed and head nodding to the words that the shy woman had said and added. “You really are a dumb motherfucker aren’t you Robert?”

Tom and Ron exchanged glances before nodding in agreement with their pseudo daughters, only to get smacked by their wives in the back of the head.

The other guys had awkwardly chugged their drinks and avoided eye contact with Bob, not wanting to be caught and having to defend the man.

Rooster, that sap, was the one to speak first, “Do you still want to marry her? Just hearing what you have to say about Bird tells me that you aren’t over her yet.”

Bob answered immediately, “Of course I still want to be with her and marry Bird. I have no doubt in my mind that’s always been her in my heart and always will be.”

“Then we’ll do everything we can do to help you get her back. I don’t speak for everyone, just for me, but I want to see you happy and I get the feeling that the only person who can make you happy, is Birdie.”

Bob smiles, a sight the Dagger Squad hadn’t seen for a while, “She does, she really, really does make me happy.”

Hangman slaps a hand over Bob’s shoulders, “I’ll help you Baby On Board.”

One by one they come up and touch Bob’s shoulders or the top of his head, all agreeing with Jake.

He gave a half smile now that he knew his friends were going to help, he felt his chances of getting his Bird back rise.

Not too long after that the crowd became too much for his wandering mind, so he went home.

The next day on base was awkward to say the least. He knew she was in San Diego, but what he didn’t know was when she would show up at Top Gun.

Maverick had already started the lesson with all of the high ups behind him and to the side.

There was a door being abruptly opened and everyone looked back as Vice Admiral Simpson spoke, “Nice of you to finally join us Lieutenant Hallett.”

She walked her way down the middle of the desks in the many rows that the other aviators sat at before she opened her mouth to no doubt sass the man.

“Birdie.” he whispered breathlessly, head casted down.

She sat down and the lesson went on while the others giggled or laughed behind hands or coughs.

Maverick picked four of us to go into the air for the first flight test and after a weird interaction in the hall to the locker rooms, everyone else crossed the tarmac and made their way in the break room.

Bob kept his sights on Bird the whole way, she glanced at him as she walked to her jet. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head. The happy memories that the two shared while back in Lemoore.

He missed the preflight ritual that they did, along with smiley and Athena. Bob gave a half-assed smile, but that didn’t last too long when he saw Bradley pat her on the head while she wore her helmet.

He can still remember the day that she got her helmet and designed it. Bird was so proud of herself, she hadn’t painted in years and was worried that it wouldn’t come out how she wanted.

Another great memory that he had made with her. Bob wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation from the radio, more on watching the sky and his Birdie fly like she belonged there.

When the exercise was over and the four pilots entered the recreation room, Bob’s focus came back into the world.

He was worried for her, he knew how taxing mentally it was to be called the best of the best, only to be shot down so quickly.

He knew that he had no right to be anxious about her. First this wasn’t a real mission, just a practice.

Secondly, she wasn’t his fiancee anymore, he held no claim to her. Especially after the way he acted the last week in Flordia.

Mickey patted his back as both got up and headed to the tarmac, pilots following their WSO’s, today was just going to be hard for him it seems.

After everyone had gone twice and shot down, both times, the day was over and everyone went to the locker room to change into civvies.

“So Bird, would you like to go to the Hard Deck later?” asked Mickey with a smile on his face as the group walked down the halls and to the parking lot.

“No thank you Mickey. I should unpack, I’m going to be here for a while.”

“Oh, that’s great to hear, how long?” chirped Mouse.

Bob was happy that she’d be staying, he really wanted to take the time and win her heart and trust back.

He felt Lucky’s anger through the glare she was giving him as they walked. Bob knew he deserved it ten times over.

Robert knew that once they heard the whole story, they’d hate him, Hell he hates himself still.

“We can help if you need?”

Bird smiled, “Thanks for the offer, but it won’t take too long.”

“Well if you end up needing help, don’t be afraid to call any of us.”

“She wouldn’t need you Bagman, Birdie has Mickey and me to help. Also stay away from my house or I’ll kick your ass.”

Jake put his arms up in mock surrender, eyes wide and a smirk on his lips. Bob rolled his eyes, he hates when Hangman’s ego acts up.

They all go their separate ways and plan to meet up a little later at The Hard Deck for drinks.

When Bob got home he immediately collected clean clothes from his bedroom and then got into the shower to wash away the day.

He didn’t feel like wearing his Khakis today at the bar so he opted out for an old Carhartt shirt, jeans, and that trucker hat he loves so much but never really wears anymore.

Bob grabbed his keys to the old Chevy truck and drove to the local Navy bar. After he parked, he didn’t really want to go inside, he knew by the cars that everyone is here again.

With a large sigh, he turned off the truck and went through the doorway of the building.

Immediately Bob spotted his found family and threw himself on the cushioned booth seat, surrounded by the group and handed a cup of water that had already been on the table.

Silence wasn’t something that the Dagger Squad did often, but when it was, it's because they were thinking.

It brought warmth to his heart that they actually wanted to help him, but also worried him for when they realized just what type of man he was.

Even if he only did what he did to not break her heart more if he didn’t make it from the Uranium mission alive.

He knew it was only a matter of time before they either kicked his ass or never talked to him again.

Which he deserves, no doubt in his mind about that.

Lucky being the biggest threat if the story got out, she already saw Birdie as a little sister and is protective of her.

He’s seen Baylie’s rage and never wants to be on the receiving end of it, but that might just be what happens.

Dragon was the first to speak after the silence had stopped, “So, what are you thinking about doing to get her back?”

Bob shakes his head chuckling nervously, “Honestly Dragon, I don’t have a Goddamn clue, Amanda won’t even look at me for longer than a second and barely talked to me today.”

“Oh yeah ‘Bo,’ she barely talked to you.”

His head snaps to Lucky, anger in his eyes. “You can’t call me that.”

Bob knows that Baylie won’t back down and he wouldn’t be surprised if she probably already knows the story or at least a little bit of it.

“How bout Bam? Can I call you Bam?” she questions sarcastically, Bird obviously told Mickey and her something about his childhood.

“No and you never call me anything but Robert or Bobby so stop using Birdie to get under my skin.”

“Why when it clearly works so well.” she smirked, the others around him smirking too.

They were all very entertained by this and he didn’t like that just bringing up something about his past could get him so angry.

“Children.” demanded Cinco, done with the fighting.

“Anyway,” said Dragon, getting them back on topic, “we need to start small, so she doesn’t get suspicious of what we’re doing.”

They all nodded, agreeing with her. Now they just have to brain storm ideas until they find the best one for Bob to start gaining Bird’s trust and friendship again.

Some ideas that were thrown out didn’t sound like something that Bob would do, more of a Jake thing.

Big gestures and an exclamation of how sorry he is, Bob is more of the quiet type, small gestures and slowly gaining the relationship back the right way.

It took many hours and many rounds of beer and water (for himself) before the group decided on a plan and paid their tabs before going home.

Bob stopped Mickey as they exited the bar, his friend slowly turned around, a smile on his face.

“How is she doing? Is she settingly in nicely?”

The other wizzo lightly slaps his back,“She’s doing good Bob and I’m not gonna lie to you, because you're my friend, she seems sad. She’s putting on a happy act for us, but we can see it in her eyes. Bird keeps busy around the house when we get home from base. If she can’t find anything to clean, she’s either in her room or walking Ozzy.”

Bob smiles, “Birdie has two brothers so she was the only sibling to actually clean when asked and her room was her get away from her brothers who pestered her a lot. I’m worried about her, Mickey. I hate to see her like this, this girl has been nothing but smiles and rainbows and I don’t think I’ve seen her this way except the last night I was in Lemoore.”

“Hey man, like I said yesterday, we’re gonna help you get her back. This is the first time I’ve seen you smile since the wedding and if she can do that by just being in the same room as you or even just being mentioned, I think what you have is worth the it.”

Bob gave Mickey a little side hug before they went to their cars. Lucky was in the front seat of the Garcia’s Jeep, blasting music and headbanging to the lyrics, making the men laugh.

He took off towards his house, listening to her favorite song and smiling like a total idiot.

Birdie’s Basket🧺: @dragon-kazansky @mrsjaderogers @bayisdying @starlit-epiphany @gracespicybradshaw

🏷️ list: @luckyladycreator2 @interstellarloneliness

[psaiouma]

Cupid's Writing Diary - 2/8/25

Entry End of Day February 8th, 2025 (dear god it's 5:45 am on the 9th rn) (this one's a rambling one, sorry)

Took a break for a couple of days because, whew, my emotional state is hashtag bad. I get a lot of dumb, mean anon comments all the time [it's why my fic comment moderation is on registered users only, if you can't take it, you're not allowed to dish it xoxo] (like seriously I made this Tumblr what?? Two weeks ago? And I've already gotten 3. Not to mention the anon that was following me onto other people fics asking me to write rape fics.) And even though this most recent was was extreme nothingburger of an insult, it was still something that affected me personally due to my own projections onto Shuichi.

WHEW okayyyy I just typed out four VERY long paragraphs talking about this insult I got and y'know what? It's very stupid and I do not wish to give the completely ignorant and incorrect anon any sort of energy.

Anyway, though, due to my absolutely ass sleep schedule, the ever looming threat of needing to get a job again, and my personal disdain for certain aspects of my life... writing is juuust not fucking happening.

That is, however, until irls got inspired to write again and needed a party! So, I got to hang out with my besties from high school and I wrote over 2k words, which felt incredible. I'm so fucking speedy when I wanna be. 'Cause all that was over the course of an hour.

I'm fleshing out Chapter 2 of Snautism very well!!! And I finally have a direction I want to take things in. I keep changing my mind on everything but that's the price I pay for wanting to do a spontaneous fic about snakes. I do miss the days where I just wrote and didn't care about the end result as much. But I like that everything I make is at a quality that I respect. Writing should always be for yourself, but I am a perfectionist neurodivergent who would rather die than have two sentences in the same paragraph start with 'he', y'know?

On top of the anon, I just remembered tat I had sent my fic to my friends just for entertainment purposes but oops they both thought it was being sent over for a beta and so they beta'd it and aaaaa they have a lot of changes suggested sobs sobs sobs. Plus, I'm debating on switching POVs for certain parts, or making it third person omni, which might be the play here and I haven't done for a while. However that's not what I've got like over 5k words of oops. Very distinct POV switches.

Regardless, today was AWESOME and I wrote and I got to hang out with friends and god I'm so addicted to quizzes. Does anyone else's friend group have an OBSESSION with quizzes??? We take anything our grubby little hands can get on. It started with me doing anime op quizzes with my roommate/bestie and now we've got the whole squad doing vocaloid and pokemon and video game music quizzes and grrrrr I LOVE quizzes.

... this has been a very off topic writing diary but I promise it all connects. I'm just saying being around that company inspired me to write. Because EVERYONE was writing.

Okay. My roommate is about to wake up. It's almost 6am. Probably going to sleep until 2pm ugh. I was tired at like midnight why didn't I just go to bed??? Anyway, that's why this diary entree is so WEIRD but yeah Snautism happening. Very stoked about it. Moreso for it to be done so I can pick the next thing. Ooo! Maybe I can have people vote on the next fic since I'm doing this 'focus on it until it's done' thinig. When Snautism is over, I'll make a list and pin it for people who care to keep track of -nods nods-

Nighty fuckin' night don't be like me, kids. And also holy shit FUCK my 'i' key I REALLY need to fix it I've been editing so hard because it either skips or double presses pissing me OFF.

,,,, I type like Greg Heffley,,, save me.

[lavendertales]

Sweet lies: Chapter 5

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: the Millers invite everyone over at their place for Valentine’s day, and things have never felt lonelier for you. But the end of the night has a surprise twist for you.

word count: 5k

A/N: now we’re getting into the juicy part. huge thanks to @cheshire-noir​ for helping me with a good part of this!

Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕 

gif: @pascalsky

series masterlist | AO3 

As much as you tried to remain the professional and hardworking person you have always been, that Friday had your mind spinning relentlessly.

Last night’s dinner was still fresh on your mind, taunting you alongside Frankie and Andrea. Worst part was that you actually liked Andrea. It was virtually impossible to nest any negative feelings towards someone so incredible. 

But then you recalled Frankie’s hesitant side glares, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each nervous gulp he took, the sheer regretful expression on his face whenever the two of you locked eyes, and you wondered if somehow, maybe, he wasn’t so confident in his relationship. 

It couldn’t have been. It was just your jealousy talking deep in your subconscious, giving you false hope. You’ve been down that road before, being fed up lies by your own mind and tricked by your heart. You did not need that again, and certainly not when Frankie was engaged.

You had to be on your best behavior. The two of you were no longer friends, but merely old acquaintances, so you shouldn’t have had an issue with giving him the cold shoulder. The farther he was from you, the better. Even if you had foolishly agreed to go to the Valentine’s Day bash that Will and Benny were throwing, that didn’t mean you could act reckless. 

So you came up with a plan.

“Good news, your girl finished her presentation early, which means I am available for some weekend fun,” Rose’s confident voice giggles over the phone.

It’s a little over eleven p.m., and you’re already half asleep in your bed, but as luck would have it, Rose’s timing is impeccable. 

“Congratulations,” you say, genuinely impressed by her work ethic. “At least one of us was professional today.”

“Uh-oh. I take it dinner was awkward last night?”

“Frankie came with his fiancé.”

Silence. You can hear Rose’s jaw drop and her steady breaths. If you listen closely enough, you can hear her processing what you just told her.

“They both came?” she asks.

“Yeah. It was dinner with friends and their significant others, of course he would’ve brought his fiancé. It was stupid of me to think he wouldn’t.”

“Still, I can’t imagine it was pleasant to just have her in your face like that.”

“She’s actually pretty awesome.”

“What?!”

Rose’s indignation actually steals a chuckle out of you, for which you are thankful.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she continues.

You scoff. “I’m serious! She’s an incredible, accomplished woman.”

“I don’t care, that is the enemy!”

“She’s really not. If anything, Frankie is. He’s the one who fucked it all up.”

“Fair point. What’s so incredible about this woman, anyway?”

“Well, her name’s Andrea and she’s a dermatologist, she regularly volunteers for different charities, she’s hilarious and sweet… oh, and she’s unfairly gorgeous.”

“How gorgeous are we talking here?”

“Green eyes, light brown hair with cute bangs, caramel skin… and she smells great.”

“Shit, that does sound great.”

“So you see my problem.”

“I do. But I can hate her.”

“What—Rose, you don’t even know her.”

“When has that ever stopped us? We’ve hated people for no reason before.”

“Yes, but those were celebrities. And it was usually because they either had something we don’t have, or because we just didn’t like them.”

“Hello! How is this any different?”

You chuckle again, your chest growing heavier with concern regarding tomorrow’s plans.

“Hey, listen, since you’re free this weekend,” you start, “how do you feel about spending Valentine’s Day with me tomorrow?”

“Uh… okay, I really appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not sure what kind of message did I send to you before.”

You both laugh. “Will and Ben are throwing this little Valentine’s get-together between friends—and their girlfriends too, I guess—and I could really use a friendly shoulder there.”

“Hmm. So everyone’s gonna be happily nuzzling next to their significant others?”

“All, except me and Frankie. Andrea can’t come apparently.”

“Gotta say, I’m a little relieved, I thought I was going to have to show some PDA in order to be able to stay.”

You laugh some more, eagerly anticipating her response.

“Won’t it be awkward?” Rose asks.

“Possibly. Every interaction I’ve had so far has been more or less so. Please, you gotta come with me.”

“I will, I will. Just gotta stop by at my grandma’s first to check in on her.”

“How is she doing after the hip replacement surgery?”

“Pretty good. More mobile each day.”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“Yeah. But after that, I’m totally gonna be there for you.”

“Good. Cause I’m your best friend, and you have to help a friend in need.”

“True.”

“Also, Santi will be there.”

You can tell that has Rose’s attention. Hell, even you smile. You’ve been hoping for a long time that she and Santiago would act upon their feelings, but clearly they both had been shy to initiate.

“I was gonna come anyway, just to clarify,” Rose pushes, to which you smirk.

“Mhm.”

“This is just… an added bonus.”

“Of course it is. I’ll see you tomorrow then, at the Millers?”

“You got it. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Oh, and thank you, Rose. I love you.”

“You don’t have a thing to thank me for. I love you too.”

Knowing that Rose will be there makes it easier for you to fall asleep, and to navigate through next day’s tasks. You wake up pretty early in order to go your grocery shopping, your cleaning and your cooking, and when the clock strikes five p.m., you are in your bathroom, showering and putting a little makeup on.

It’s not a party, you keep reminding yourself of Will’s words. So you don’t overdress, and you don’t overdo it with makeup. Just something cute and casual for a night out with your friends.

And their girlfriends. And, with Rose there, probably making heart eyes at Santiago, that means it’ll be just you and Frankie.

Okay, so maybe your plan wasn’t so well thought. Maybe you could back out of going. Who would really care, on Valentine’s, no less?

Oh, but they would. You knew the guys, you knew your friends, and you knew how relentless they could be about group hangouts and such. You knew they would bother you consistently, bombard you with questions about why you were a no-show at the very last moment.

Honestly, the idea of free drinks kept you motivated enough. In the event of Rose disappearing somewhere to snuggle with Santi, you’d have your trusted companions, the beers.

But you refuse to show up empty handed, so you carry with you a big plate of sandwiches and a bottle of wine. You put in the location on the GPS and drive through the snowed streets.

You’ve been to Will’s and Benny’s plenty of times, but you felt safer having the address right there in front of you, especially on an icy evening like that. Even on a tender day such as Valentine’s Day, February knows how to remind you of its cold, cold wrath.

Standing on the doorstep of the Millers’ humble bungalow merely twenty minutes later, your warmest clothes prove nothing on that bitter evening. You rang the doorbell once and are now anxiously waiting for either Will or Benny to let you in.

Soon, waiting becomes a daunting task. But not only because of the bitter wind chills.

Will and Benny are hosting this party—scratch that. A get-together. Friendly faces, and yet all of them seem to belong to mere ghosts of your past. For them, Valentine’s Day didn’t need the frills and ties, but rather friends and stiff drinks. Plus, they had their wonderful girlfriends by their side, so even the most mundane tasks could be deemed as romantic and well-thought. Will reassured you it would be a smaller gathering, just the lonely ones and the dorks who actually managed to score someone. Still, the sight of the cramped cars in the driveway spiked your anxiety when the GPS told you “arrived at your destination”. But you prevailed, and marched to the front door nonetheless. You had made a promise, after all. 

Hurry up, guys, your mind begs, huffing into your hands to keep you warm. Finally, you see a familiar face grinning from the door window. Not Will, rather Benny. Your eyes soften, eagerly pushing your way in, even as Benny already starts fussing over how long you waited.

“It’s fine,” you tell him sincerely.

“I shouted at Will to open the door a dozen times,” he seemingly apologizes. “I had the glasses in my hand, but no, I gotta do all the work. So much for big bro duties. Here, let me take that.”

You chuckle as Benny takes the plate and bottle of wine from your hand, and you take a look around. You were swathed in warmth as soon as you crossed the threshold into the home. Something about being inside made you relax much more. It could be the coziness of the two-story living, where every room in the house bled into each other. Or it could be that the furniture choices were plump and rosy leather adorned in animal themed blankets, tapestries and cushions. In the living room, MTV is playing on the television, the soft drones of Robert Smith from The Cure filling you with the melancholy you had come to associate with the holiday.

From the couch, Will greets you, inviting you to sit as you hand your jacket off to Benny. Will and Mia are sitting over at one of the two olive couches that surround the fireplace. Benny has no problem plopping himself next to his brother and his girlfriend, the latter having his own significant other join in, but you decide to pick the couch across from them, the one closest to the kitchen. Not just because it might be useful should you require more drinks, but also because you think five’s a crowd, and couples need their intimacy.

The light in the kitchen is on and you can see two shadows bouncing across the walls. They are talking about something, but you can’t pick up on any of it, not when you have Will and Mia’s conversation ringing in the other ear. Although, you still can’t help but stare at the shapes.

One looks stocky, and seems to be the one making the most noise out of them. But the other. The other has a cap on, larger arms, a deeper voice, dripping with age like a fine wine. He and Benny are the youngest among the boys, but his voice is coarse and thick with plenty of emotions that still have a grip over you.

You shake your head briefly, forcing yourself to smile and even giggle at the excited voices in front of you. It’s a favorable situation rather than staring at Frankie the whole time, which you swore you wouldn’t do, no matter what.

You fleetingly check your watch, wondering when Rose will get there. You grow to hate this feeling of helplessness when it comes to being around Frankie. It’s not that you are not strong, quite the opposite: you are more than capable of being cold and distant, but gazing over at him, looking and longing at the same time? A whole other story.

You’re not quite sure what it is about Frankie that still has you in a chokehold. Actually, you do know, you just like denying it, especially now given the circumstances. In every way, Frankie is the embodiment of your dream partner. He’s kind, funny, sweet, smart, protective, and just overall a warm person that once made you feel like you were truly yourself, and not just playing a game.

After all this time, your feelings for him have not vanished as you had hoped. You foolishly thought distance would help you forget, but now that you have been thrust back into your old life, you see things are no different than when you left.

At least in that regard.

Looking at Will and Benny happily sharing with you stories of their adventures with the girls, you sport a sincere smile. You have never seen them so fulfilled, so blissful, and it makes your heart tremble with joy. Yet there is a permanent ache in your heart that you cannot deny, one you doubt anyone would fully understand.

“Hey, you’re here!” Santiago says, pulling you in to hug you tight.

You reciprocate, eyes landing on Frankie’s figure in the background. He seems apologetic, averting your gaze as much as he can, as if he’s guilty of something. Deep down, you do understand his reaction and, oddly enough, you are thankful that he’s not pushing the note in any way.

“I heard Emily made heart shaped cookies, and you know I’m a sucker for cookies,” you joke.

“You have to try them, they are out of this world,” Mia fortifies.

You all chuckle, and you do in fact stretch your arm towards the coffee table in the middle to grab one of the cookies on the plate and take a bite out of it, instantly melting.

“Oh my God,” you nearly shout, immediately taking another bite. “These are heavenly!”

“Thank you!” Emily smiles, her cheeks now flushed. “I don’t make them that often though.”

“I can see why! It’s tough to stay away from them, shit.”

You finish the cookie and grab another one, causing everyone to giggle.

“It’s also why I told her to never, under any circumstances, share the recipe,” Benny adds. “This is cause for fight.”

“It sure is,” Will says.

You don’t realize you’re still in Santiago’s arms; when you do realize that, you inch away in the slightest, right under Frankie’s studious eyes. Curiosity has him by the throat, yet he can’t bring himself to ask you or Santiago any questions. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“Hi,” you finally greet Frankie, voice small and anxious.

“Hi,” he replies.

You’re tired of this; you are so tired of walking around on eggshells, measuring your words and actions and trying to stay away while also wanting to be part of the group again. It’s absolutely exhausting.

“You want something to drink?” Santiago offers, and you nod.

Frankie’s eyes don’t leave the two of you, silently studying you from the corner of his eye. He watches you go into the kitchen, exchange some words as Santiago opens up a beer bottle and hands it to you, and then he sees you lightly touching his arm.

He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know. It’s none of his business. He has no right asking or even caring anymore.

Then why does his chest ache so? Why does it feel like there’s a beast trapped inside of him that roars and scratches violently at the simplest of sights?

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“Okay, so,” Will announces, standing up now that you and Santiago return to the living room. “Now that we are all here.”

“Actually, Rose should be here any minute,” Santiago intervene.

“Oh. That’s okay, we can wait then.”

“What’s going on, guys?” you ask.

Will and Benny exchange a glare, as well as Mia and Emily, and you instantly know both couples have news. The options are limited, although you can pretty much figure out what’s going on before it’s even said.

And before you know it, you’re halfway through the beer bottle, wishing you had called a cab instead of driving to the bungalow.

“Well, uh… Mia and I are engaged,” Will says, reaching to grab his now fiancé’s hand.

It’s then that you notice the ring on Mia’s finger, shining as brightly as her eyes when she looks at Will. Laudatory exclaims burst among you all, and you’re quick to finish your beer before hugging Mia and then Will. Your heart swells and trembles with even more happiness, admiring them as Santiago and Frankie congratulate their friend.

“Benny has some news too,” Will chuckles.

All eyes turn to Benny, who instead looks over at Emily. Her cheeks burn auburn still, indicating nervousness and flattery.

“We’re moving in together,” she says.

More congratulations are being shared, the entire group hugging the other happy couple. You don’t think you could be any happier than you are at this very moment.

Or lonelier.

What a fascinating mixture, that of delight for your friends and loneliness for yourself. Contradictory, opposing poles, yet equally true.

You don’t let it show, though. Tonight it’s cause for celebration, and you are too focused on your friends’ fulfilled lives to allow any negative emotion impact it.

Although you can’t help but think that your steps are guided by some sort of negative emotion when you find yourself into the kitchen, grabbing another beer to toast to your friends.

“To Will and Benny, finally committed and off of our hands,” Santiago toasts, and you all laugh. “Girls, best of luck.”

“Here, here!”

You feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, and you swiftly notice a text from Rose: “Be there soon, max one hour. Sorry for the delay!” You don’t know why, but your stomach drops. Rose will be there soon, why do you feel so disarmed and hopeless? It doesn’t make much sense, and you don’t try to dig deeper. Not tonight.

You’re feeling a bit of a mess, so the best you can do is smile and nod along, drinking cheerfully along your very joyful and gratified friends. You look at them all, admiring and holding out hope for all of them, so much so that you forget about yourself momentarily. Just for one moment, you forget about the confusing mixture of feelings and how it fucks you up in this very moment.

So Will is engaged, Benny’s getting his own place with his girlfriend, and Frankie is engaged. That leaves you and Santiago as the lonely bachelors in the group.

Except Santiago’s smitten with Rose, and vice versa, and you have a feeling those two will end up together. Which means, when that’ll inevitably happen, it will be just you. Stuck in the same cycle, no matter how hard you have tried to run away from it or tell yourself you changed.

Definitely should’ve taken a cab. Tonight requires a whole lot more drinking.

Music starts blasting in the speakers, with the two happy couples and Frankie settling for an excited talk regarding the upcoming nuptials and move-in. You settle in the kitchen, taking a seat and sipping from your beer while your eyes remain on the five people on the couch. There is an odd sense of melancholy washing over you, like you are an intruder in all of those people’s lives, and that they’d be much happier without you. Like their lives would also be easier without you.

“Hey,” Santiago’s voice brings you back to earth. “You okay?”

He takes the seat next to you, nudging you with his shoulder. “Yeah,” you reply flatly, voice a little shaky, too. “So many good news tonight already, it’s… a lot.”

“I’m pretty surprised myself. More by Benny, not Will. Will’s got this commitment thing covered. Benny, on the other hand…”

You chuckle, staring at the bottom of the beer that’s dangerously close now. “But look at him now. A grown man, our Benny.”

“They’re all moving on, building their lives.”

“Yep.”

“Guess it’s just you and me now. The last two bachelors of the group.”

You purse your lips together, staring at him in a haze. “Maybe you and I should’ve given this a proper go.”

Santiago smirks, eyeing you up and down.

“Is that so?” he smiles.

“We might’ve actually had a real shot a while back.”

“At the very least we could’ve followed through with that little moment in the car.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“One complete and good memory from back then.”

You nod, reminiscing of the time when you returned to town for a few weeks, a couple of years back, and decided to try something new. You thought it was the right thing to do, but the short-lived romance proved otherwise for you both.

“Or we might’ve screwed things up completely,” you say.

“Or that.”

“I mean, look at me and Frankie. One wrong move and it’s all fucked up.”

You sigh deeply, your head now resting in the crook of Santiago’s neck. He smells of cologne and forest, fresh and… uncomplicated. His arm wraps around you, pulling you in closer.

All under Frankie’s eyes.

He can’t stop staring at the two of you, so close and intimate in the kitchen, and his mind starts to wonder, to fabricate little scenarios that make the room spin around him. It all comes crashing down on him when he starts to acknowledge the fact that you and Santiago make perfect sense.

“You good there, Fish?” Benny asks, hand on his shoulder.

“Hm?”

He’s blatantly staring and he didn’t even realize it till then. Now, his gaze returns upon those in the living room.

“You good?” Benny repeats the question.

“I’m good, yeah,” he replies.

“Cause… you were staring.”

“I was just… curious.”

Mia and Emily look over to the kitchen as well, then back at Frankie. “Oh, those two?” Mia chuckles. “Yeah, we’re curious, too.”

Frankie, instead, frowns.

“They’ve gotten very close in the past few years,” Will admits. “Not sure to what extent, but they sure are close.”

“I for one think that if there is something going on, we should give them some space,” Emily says. “Friends dating… it can be tricky to navigate. Let’s leave them alone in the meantime.”

Frankie gulps, finishing his beer, eager for another one. He stands up, heads to the kitchen, where he locks eyes with you and Santiago. The two of you separate, staring at him, but Frankie doesn’t say a word. He just reaches in the fridge for another beer, opens it and walks away, right outside into the cold.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He definitely shouldn’t care.

“What’s with him?” you ask.

“I have no idea.  Maybe it’s the stress of planning a wedding.”

“Right.”

The doorbell is heard, turning towards Santiago with a smile. “That’s Rose.”

You see him take a deep breath, his mind clearly racing just as much as his heart, and you know he’s overthinking the moment. You have the same look on your face when you do it.

“Go,” you nearly push him off the chair. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m going, okay? I don’t wanna seem too eager.”

“You’re reeking of neediness already. Go.”

When you’re alone in the kitchen, you have the nerve to finish the beer, then raiding for another one. You’re probably going to regret this, but you need something to take the edge off.

You spy into the living room, noticing Santiago and Rose emerged into a conversation filled with shy smiles and flushed cheeks, and you smile. God, I hope this works between them. They’re too good for each other to not make this work.

But life sometimes has a funny and cruel way of pulling two perfect people apart from each other. You’ve experienced it firsthand, and you’d hate seeing this happen to two of the dearest people in your life.

You keep hearing music, and after a while, those in the living room start dancing with each other and you take that as your cue to leave. You feel like an extra there, just looking at the happy couples giggling and talking to each other.

Before you know it, you find yourself outside, slowly inhaling the cold air. You’re a bit tipsy, so this is just what you need to remain grounded in the present. A present where you’re basically left behind, alone, just you and the professional ladder you are desperately trying to climb in order to feel like you are achieving something.

By all means, you are happy. You have a great new job, great life, health… everything is good. So there is no reason for you to be feeling like this, is there?

“It’s freezing, you should get back inside,” a voice shouts.

You come to realize that it’s Frankie. He’s on the porch, few inches away, barely staring at you.

“Could tell you the same thing,” you say.

“I happen to be okay with the cold. I know you hate it.”

You tsk, hating how much he still knows about you. You stare into the far off distance, beer in hand. Luckily the alcohol keeps you a little warm, so you don’t really care about the freezing temperatures right now.

“Needed some air,” you say.

“Aka a break from all the happy inside.”

“I didn’t say—“

“You didn’t have to.”

“Would you just—knock it off?”

It is now that you turn to meet his gaze, fury radiating from your eyes. He can feel it, too; you see it in his body language, the way he’s trying to make himself seem smaller next to you. But he doesn’t avert his eyes. Instead, he seems to be staring right at you, with a certain darkness in his eyes that you fail to recognize.

“Look, I’m tired of this, Frankie,” you surrender. “I am sick and tired of trying my hardest to be distant and keep you at bay… and I’m sorry I’m acting like a bitch. I am not, I’m really not.”

“I know you’re not. You got every right to act this way, though.”

You chuckle. “Well, at least you understand what the situation is.”

“Of course I do. I’m not an idiot, okay? I know this is… fucked up and hurtful and messy… but I miss you.”

The moment he says that, your heart begins to race like crazy.

“As a—friend,” he clarifies, gulping.

“I want us to function normally too, like we used to, but I don’t know if it’s possible, Frankie. I gotta respect you and Andrea’s relationship, and… a single woman is not to be around a committed guy.”

Frankie scoffs, finishing his beer and putting the empty bottle on the porch, half in snow. “Single? Really?”

“Yes, really. Why?”

He falters, trips over his own thoughts, and he keeps quiet. It’s his best play at this very moment.

“I missed you too,” you confess shyly, in an almost non-existent voice.

But he hears it. He hears and sees you crystal clear, burning and aching with his whole body. He should not be feeling this way. He should not be surprised that you’d be interested in Santiago. He should not be upset by it, nor should he be feeling this way around you. It’s not okay. It’s not normal to burn this much for someone.

And yet here he is, secretly doing it anyway, and shoving it deep down with every ounce of strength imaginable.

You sneak a peek through the window, noticing Rose still talking to Santiago, seemingly laughing out loud, and your heart quickly swells and then deflates. When you finish your beer, you find Frankie to stand much closer to you, cutting out the air from your lungs. You barely feel the cold anymore, even if your fingers turn purple and your face is red with something you can’t quite discern.

“I’m really sorry that I let you go,” he mutters. “I was a dick. Pope reminds me once or twice a year.”

You actually chuckle. “Good.”

“He’s a great friend.”

“That he is.”

“And you guys seem to be very close. Kind of like…”

“We used to be?”

He nods. When your eyes meet and neither shies away, it’s electric. It’s a rush, a moment filled with unspoken emotion. You want to look away, you know this should not be happening, and yet you can’t look away. It’s years of deprivation, missing him and missing the two of you, but you just don’t want to look away from him.

You just want to look at him, admire him for the man that he’s turned into. Nothing more.

“I missed you,” he repeats, his voice almost like he’s begging. “So much.”

You don’t reply. You can’t really focus; your mind is foggy, clouded by all sorts of emotions tonight, and you know you should back off, act with respect. Because, at the end of the day, you do respect Frankie and his relationship with Andrea, and you respect Andrea just as much.

Every cell in your body screams at you to just back off, go back inside to your friends and celebrate alongside them. You swear you moved your feet in the desired direction. You start to feel warm again, warm all over, particularly your face.

Seconds later, you realize that is because there is warm breath all over your face, and your lips become swollen, reddened with a foreign, yet familiar and much needed touch.

Another few seconds later and you realize that Frankie’s lips are on yours, and his hand cups your cheek, pulling you in.

The worst of it is, you kiss him back. You kiss him back till you’re running out of air and Frankie’s breath is the sole source of air that you have. You kiss him back till you become fully aware of the implications, and then, before you can pull away, Frankie does it first.

He pulls away from you, his lips just as swollen and red as yours, and he stares at you in shock. Truthfully, you’re just as shocked, unable to utter a single word.

“I’m so sorry,” he coos, looking around in disbelief. “I am… so sorry. I shouldn’t have… I should go.”

You still don’t say anything. You simply stare at him, incapable to remove the feeling of his soft lips pressed hastily on yours.

He’s slowly backing away from you, eyes locked with yours, as he keeps muttering “I should go”. So he goes, leaving you half frozen on the porch, with a taste on your lips that nothing would ever wash away.

previous | next

[double-aa-batteries]

Fic Rec Fridays - Week 2 - AUs

If you want to check out any of the other 3 fic recs you can find the master post here

Andreil

the sound by jemwrites on AO3 here (17k, 5 chapters)

The cottage looked unassuming and quaint, with a wooden ramp up to the front porch and rose bushes beneath the windows. A little sign was nailed above the door, reading The Foxhole. It seemed peaceful. Quiet

Its patrons, however, were neither of those things. Neil could already hear the raucous lot from where he was stood outside the door. Having never spoken to anyone outside of rare, whispered words to his uncle, or his cat, or his mother's grave, Neil knew this would be interesting.

A blond woman opened the door with a smile and glittering eyes. Neil's stomach rolled over itself. He hoped this wasn't a dumb decision.

TW: mentions of neil’s past and kevin’s. some minorly graphic descriptions of past abuse

its always you series by justdk / @dkafterdark on AO3 here (5 parts)

andreil high school au in a series of short  fics where neil is still on the run, squatting in abandoned houses, when he meets andrew. he hadn’t planned on staying in town so long but things get more complicated when feelings become involved

read tags in each part for TWs

you kind of do though by Rory_writes on AO3 here (4k, 1 chapter)

Unspecified alternate universe where neil and andrew meet later in life.

Someone breaks into Andrew's house one night, drunkenly looking for his friend and instead finding a cat and, well, Andrew. (+trans andrew)

no trigger warnings, mostly fluff and crack

Kandreil

Listen, all these kandreil fics just absolutely wrecked me and in my opinion are absolutely worth the read

the shore we'd come to find by JayJFox on AO3 here (17k, 4 chapters)

Kevneil are hiding from Riko after running away and break into someone’s empty house for the night. only...it isn’t empty. They meet andrew and stay with him, getting comfortable, until Riko makes moves and kevneil become worried for their own safety as well as andrew’s.

This is just. Fucking pure angst (with a happy ending). it wrecked me.

TW: Riko and Nathan and riko and nathan adjacent trauma

a brick to the stomach; a bullet between the eyes by fluorescencx on AO3 here (5k, 1 chapter)

Roommates AU

A 5k roller coaster of pure angst and neil pining for the two people he loves but can never have.

But could? have them? no. of course not.

it’s stupid, but he dreams about it anyway.

no trigger warnings, only angst and pining.

Nicky/Erik

i knew you were trouble (when you broke in through my window) by neilwrites on AO3 here (1k one shot)

AU where Nicky didn’t meet Erik in Germany

Nicky’s drunk and goes to the wrong apartment. Lucky for him, the person who lives in said wrong apartment is German and extremely cute.

no trigger warnings

Jerejean

farmer's almanac by cloud talking on AO3 here (3k, 1 chapter)

Soulmates AU

soulmates know everything that their other knows, excluding who they are. jeremy knox knows his soulmate is in danger and the world will burn as he changes that.

TW: Riko. takes place in the nest. but less trauma and violence than canon. knives

Kevaaron

picture perfect by officialstarsandgutters on AO3 here (22k, 1 chapter)

photography aaron and model kevin au

Freelance photographer Aaron Minyard gets a gig doing fashion photography for a catalogue, where he meets Kevin Day, typical arrogant haughty model asshole. Or so Aaron thinks.

More fluff than enemies to lovers, but enemies to lovers adjacent. Listen, this is just romance. These boys love each other. (+non binary Kevin)

TW: riko and riko adjacent things. graphic torture scene involving knives that is easy to be skipped if needed. kidnapping and drugging, talk of past riko regarding trauma and abuse. scars and talk of kevin’s broken hand. it’s all the usual until the near end where you needa watch out a bit

r u mine? by alex_wh0 on AO3 here (2k, 1 chapter)

Tattoo parlor AU

After two years of unrelenting silence, Kevin comes back into Aaron's life. Andrew is PISSED, Neil is secretly thrilled. And Aaron — Aaron doesn't quite know what to do. (+genderqueer kevin day)

TW: Riko. Again. That rat bastard. recount of kevin’s broken hand and talk of Kevin’s time at the nest

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Fixed: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 4 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 3: Love So Soft

Main Masterlist

A/N: It’s shorter than my usual updates but I’m busy so sorry for the delay. My final exam dates have come and all I can do is pray right now lol. Please pray for me if you can, this sis is out here writing fanfics for yall instead of studying so, haha. ANyways, enjoy babies! Shit happens in this chapter.

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 5K

Chapter 4: Fixed

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next few. Your hands shook every time you got a flashback and even though you were numb to emotions that entire day, tears threatened to spill whenever your mind took to you to that overpriced kitchen again.

Now that he had gone to a dangerous and unnerved assaulter from a Dad trying to take care of his daughter, your mind wouldn’t put anything past him. You knew that in the back of your mind that he was a mobster and your ‘friendship’ was alarming to say the least, but now there was no denying his resources and power and the very obvious threat to your life lingering in the air.

At least before you had the luxury to be oblivious and ignorant, not anymore though. Steve felt even more unhinged and liberal now, even messaging you daily, greeting texts that you obviously ignored. He knew you both were aware that you never handed him your number and he felt no need to hide his pursuit.

You read most of the messages, not bothering with a single reply though. You tried to block him but somehow your phone would still receive messages from his number, even though his contact would always peek back at you from the otherwise empty blacklist.

As if his torment wasn’t ample, another message thread from a different number would forward you alarming images, photos of Grace in her daycare, on a class trip to the park and even her playing in your backyard. You had no doubt that this was another game of his to show you his resources.

You skipped daycare for a few days, your mental health worse than it was after the carnival attack, because now you had a personal tormentor and you cursed yourself for falling into this mess. At times, you believed it wasn’t your fault really, you just helped a kid and this situation spiraled itself but what would pointing fingers now get you? The harsh truth was you were in a calamitous situation now and every step from now on had to be thought out.

So, you let Grace attend her daycare and acted if nothing was amiss or altered, after the few initial breakdown days of course, kept going to your job and earning the bread. You considered your options, you really wanted to go to the cops or a higher fair power but those were few these days, almost non existent in your city. You also vaguely recalled meeting three of the Captains of the PD at Sarah’s birthday, all smiley and doe eyed for Steve. You knew they wouldn’t help, fucking kiss-asses.

Maybe you would have to move somewhere else, perhaps to your hometown, at least till things cooled down or better yet were forgotten? But that trail was very predictable and you didn’t want your parents in this mess.  

You also came to know that Steve had inserted himself in the other spheres of your life. You were sure your location was always being sent to him, the knowledge a courtesy of the black car following you while you travelled to home at some late day’s end.

Aiden told you whereabouts were easy to track, when you inquired ambiguously. Another instance was when you went to the bank to deposit cash for your debit card, you came face to face with an enormous amount already there. Somehow, the limit on your credit card was also extended. How, you knew. The clerk told you about an email you must have gotten in regards to it, you dismissed that justification away and told them to not accept the cash. To sum the discussion, they weren’t helpful and had no policy against anonymous donors.

Aiden, your trusted coworker cum pal, sensed the shift in your aura and fidgety form very easily, pestering you with questions and you decided to turn to him, stressed and tired and ready to do something. His questioning eyebrows made you confess vaguely but you refused to tell him the extent of it. Just that his prediction came true and you needed help. Let’s just say, Aiden was a good man.

With time, Steve’s ‘affectionate’ messages became deranged, and you found it harder to act nonchalant in your daily life. You were thankful he didn’t come to visit you, possibly occupied with the rumored war between the mobs. You just prayed for a few more days of ignorance, just enough time to think and do something.

“What do you mean someone collected her?!” You had a hard time controlling your voice, you were about to burst, in tears or with anger, you didn’t know.

“The man was verified in the emergency contacts and we got a letter signed and approved by you to skip the day an hour into the first activity.”

“A man? Emergen-, wait no! What fucking approved letter?”

You had three emergency contacts, your mom in another state, Aiden, and one of the other kid’s mom you had grown close to. Aiden was with you at work all day, so did someone disguise themselves as him? And what was the deal with the letter signed by you? You surely didn’t remember writing and authorizing one.

The boy, Pietro, who had been the receptionist for as long as you could remember, shuffled through the chaotic piles of paper and presented a letter to you, and your blood froze as your eyes skimmed the font.

Your beautiful cursive stared right back at you and you knew that no one would ever be able to distinguish between this penmanship and the one in the pocketbook in your clutch. No one but you. Even though you knew you had not written it, the slightly different ‘f’ and ‘g’ told you everything.

Your signature at the bottom though, was done quite perfectly and that made you even more scared.

“I did-, I didn’t write this! What the-” Your widened eyes met Pietro’s from above the paper but all he offered you was a meek smile. Your hands shook with rage and for the first time in your life, you had the urge to slap someone really bad.

“Maybe your family had an emergency to take he-”

“No, you don’t get it!” You stopped yourself from getting frantic, willing yourself to take deep breaths and think rationally. Today of all days, things had to mess up.

He didn’t know you had no family in this city, that you had a mobster after you or the subtle threats that his hired spy sent to you.

Was going to the police an option? Aiden already told you that the cops were as good as Steve’s men. But this was about your missing kid! You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to her. And you were giving Steve way too much credit, what if he wasn’t behind this all? Come to think of it, what if the other number wasn’t his?

Relax yourself! Thinking of disturbing theories wouldn’t help anyone. You thought you should go to the cops, just in case. No mentioning of Steve, just a woman with a ‘missing child’ report.

‘Missing Child’ left an acrid taste behind and you were too close to a breakdown, but your whole journey of single-parenthood taught you to kick vulnerability aside, well most of the times.

You turned and were about to leave, but Pietro stopped you. “If you are going to the cops Ma’am, they require 8 hours of inactivity or disappearance time for kids under 5.”

Well look who just read your mind.

You huffed and kept the tears at bay, your mind thinking of what to do then? Grace was obviously taken-

“How could you let a toddler leave without informing the parents?” You knew your anger was channeling out at the wrong man but didn’t he all but hand Grace to the stranger?

You beat him answering and inquired, “What did the man look like? Do you have any footage? Anything?” The wrinkles in your forehead and stress creases on your face paired with the eyebags betrayed your age surely. You were sure you had aged more this week than an entire decade, juggling your normal life with the hovering threat.

“You shouldn’t be this worried Ma’am.”

The fucking audacity.

“Your daughter recognized him, she all but ran to him and this other little girl he came with. You should maybe ask your parent-friends around? A blonde family perhaps?”

As all the emotions drained from your face and terror took over, the young lad in front of you looked smug. You wondered as if you imagined the faintest of smirks on his face.

You crumpled the letter in your hands, seething with rage as you stepped in your car. Oh, you were mad, more wrathful than ever. You could take any hits on you, any threat but not on Grace, never on her.

You were stupid, you had already decided you wouldn’t put anything past him but unknowingly, you did put this past him. You thought this man had a shred of decency to not use your kid in this adult war, being a parent himself and all but what a surprise! You were wrong.

You drove to your home, your thoughts a mix of trepidation, anxiety and fury. You were scared of him and his reach and resources but if he put Grace in any type of danger; whether to teach you a lesson or use her as bait or both, there’d be consequences.

Lord knows you killed a man a month ago Grace was threatened.

You had one thing to do before contacting Steve about Grace but you never got to do it because unexpectedly the bastard was in your home. In your home.

The black sports car outside was a huge giveaway but your suspicions were confirmed when you opened the door with your house key. The banter and giggles from inside alarmed yet calmed you; the dread of confrontation and the assurance of Grace’s safety reigned your mind.

As the door opened painfully slow like a horror movie, the sight that met your eyes made you sick with a feeling of failure. It wasn’t gore or blood or grunge, it was Steve bouncing Grace in the air and catching her while Sarah twirled around in the living room.  

This man was craftier than you thought, every action of his was calculated, each a refined step. You had been so preoccupied to avoid direct encounters with him in your little family’s life that you didn’t think he had other ways. He was always looming around with Sarah and as Grace began to trust Sarah, she consequently began to trust her blonde guardian too.

As you slammed the door behind you, Steve’s eyes snapped to yours and his smirk made you want to punch him so hard. The smugness on his face while he let Grace down without breaking eye contact told you he had no regret, no remorse. In fact, he was loving every second of this cat and mouse chase between you two.

You were a millimeter close to losing your shit, the only check being the kids in the room. But you were mad and he was going to know it.

“What the hell, Steve? Messing with my kid?” You threw your clutch onto the couch, Steve haughty by the reception of his sent message but still holding back because of the kids. He called Wanda and you didn’t really notice where she came from but you did register Steve asking to take the girls to the park for a ‘private discussion’.

As Grace passed by you, you grabbed her arm lightly, making her look at you with doe eyes resembling yours. You gave her a smile trying to ease her, but you knew she was smart enough to sense the change in the atmosphere.

Apparently, the whining Sarah wasn’t.

You looked back to Steve, your hold still on Grace and continued with a frown and raised eyebrows, “She isn’t going anywhere, not out of my sight and obviously not with you or your goons.”

Wanda had the audacity to look offended and you scoffed at her, eyes staring Steve’s down.

“Honey, I don’t think the kids should hear what I think you have to say right now.” He said nodding to Wanda to take Grace.

“You must be deranged to think I trust Grace near anyone even remotely related to you! Take your people and get out.” You held your hand up to stop Wanda and pointed towards the door with the most menacing glare you could form.

Grace looked incomprehensibly between you two, concern and confusion on her face. That might have been the first time such a tone was used in your household. The grumbling Sarah was close to throwing a tantrum, irritated by the change in the playful air or the lack of attention to her, you didn’t know. She was hanging on Wanda’s forearm, her feet slipping on your printed rug. Wanda was trying to not look hurt still by your previous statement, distracting herself by the blonde kid and you were baffled by her obliviousness to all this.

Steve, the beefy blonde Lucifer, was furious and seething. His white knuckles and ticking jaw were the most obvious giveaways, the fingers just itching to beat the shit out of someone no doubt.

Was he imagining striking you into compliance into his weird playhouse game complex? You wouldn’t be surprised given the extent of his attempt to ‘win’ you over.

The ‘get out’ tone and blatant disrespect was a bruise to his ego for sure, and by you, a middle-class woman nonetheless was a worse injury. Steve was the deadly boss to armored men in the vicinity, the kids’ father figure, according to him, and Wanda’s stern yet kind employer.

People had been killed for less and there you were, standing in all your glory, being the only person alive to reject Steve Rogers and now, the only to raise your voice at him.

You almost scoffed at his impudence to look offended, what did he expect? For you to submit to him after the stunt he pulled? His reach was scary he proved today and that any future with him in your life in any way, was a fearsome possibility to entertain but you’d be damned if you went down without a fight.  

“You can’t make me leave; we both know. You don’t have the physical edge nor the mental one. I have no problem drawing out G-U-N-S in front of the kids or to throw the warnings around, although I would prefer not to.”

Your free hand itched to slap him, like how his did minutes ago. It wasn’t a mankind problem about men thinking they were entitled to everything; it was a Steve Rogers’s problem. Of course, with him consent didn’t matter. If he had a ‘housewife, kids and fences’ fixation, he’d make it come true.

“Do you even listen to what I say? Or your own words even? Please, go ahead! Traumatise my kid and also yours in your wooing process! Why are you so obsessed? Leave us alone, you freak! I just ignored few messages!” You had a hard time maintaining your cool, if there was any left. You were sure you were scaring Grace and no matter what happened next, you knew she was already traumatized by this entire ordeal already. You were so sorry, so, so, so sorry to your poor baby caught in this mess.

You knew, no, you hoped, he wouldn’t pull out the gun, his actions at the carnival a proof, you remembered how he hid his gun on finding Sarah. That threat was empty but the next one wasn’t, his words making you freeze in your spot.

“I think you keep on misunderstanding me, sweetheart. I don’t make empty promises,”

Posh word for threats.

“For starters, maybe I should pay my future in-laws a visit in their blue duplex. They might need help with the vast garden they have, it is the season for ‘violets’, isn’t it?”

As you froze with your parents being brought up, he also cooled, albeit differently, smirking once again gaining the upper hand, not that he lost it if you were being honest.

“Isn’t threatening my kid enough for you, Steve?” You hated how your loud voice almost broke, your anger slowly subsiding into helplessness and you hated that. You hated his guts, his entitlement, his claim; everything about him.

“You still don’t see it, do you? Our family of four is the most important thing to me right now and I’m not above doing anything to save it.”

“There is no family of four Steve! I keep explaining and you keep coming back to square one with all this bullshit!” The curse word did tick Steve off but he would correct that later, when bigger things weren’t at ploy.

“Your ignorance makes me a little mad sometimes sweetheart and that is why I have to do all I do. You haven’t realized we need each other yet, but I’m staying until you do and even after that, I promise. You know how much it pissed me off to see your tickets and the packed suitcases after I’ve been nothing but nice? I was so generous to spoil you with my riches but instead I find that in your finances.”

This fucker knew. Of course, he did!

You were wondering in the back of your head what had prompted this visit with so many threats and warnings and anguish. He was pissed even before you ‘acted out’, he tracked the tickets and the plan and that meant he even tracked-

“You have so much to learn, but luckily you interact with quite a few people. I am most tempted to start out with this Aiden guy, trying to be the hero and giving you all the ideas. Maybe I should visit him?” Steve wondered out loud, and you flinched at his suggestion, hating how you were trapped by this man.

You couldn’t live with yourself if anyone got hurt because of you, be it your parents or Aiden or any other possibility Steve would come up with. Of course, Grace was your peak priority but you doubted he would hurt her as he threatened to harm them.

“Steve, please.” The fire was almost out, your hands trembling, Grace worried and Steve smug.

“Let the kids go and I think we can come to a conclusion.”

“Steve this needs to stop.” You said, your breaths heavy and helplessness clawing away at you.

“I won’t repeat myself.” He voiced out with a threatening edge, gesturing to Grace and Wanda, clearly telling you to first get the kids out.

For a deranged fucktard, he sure cared about the kids a lot.

You loosened your hold on Grace, patting her arm softly and nudged her to Wanda. Wanda received her little hand and enticed the kids with the promise of ice-cream. Sarah clapped her hands and as the trio left, Grace did look over her shoulders at you in concern and for permission, majorly in concern though. You nodded and waved, a tear dropping as soon as the door clicked shut.

You were still staring at the door, not wanting to meet Steve’s stormy blue orbs when he began, “Today was a slip up that I won’t tolerate again. Neither the cursing nor the dramatics.”

We aren’t in a fucking play, what the fuck is he labelling as dramatics?

Your eyes slowly flickered to his, and you had a hard time not letting the tears escape except the one traitorous one earlier. The fatigue, the worry of Grace’s disappearance, the threats to your friends and family were all catching up to you. It took all in you to stay strong and not fall down right now.

“Steve this isn’t funny anymore. It’s sick and you know it! I just said no! Was that so inexcusable that you had to follow up with this? You have violated me for that, broken into my home and now kidnapped my daughter! At what extent will you stop?” You broke down finally, arms a flailing mess as fat tears rolled down. Nothing scared more than the helplessness this moment. He won and he knew it. The carnival incident was nothing in comparison to this. The only good thing you could hope in all this was a safe Grace but that too only if you complied, which seemed like what you would do now given your attempts at fighting back and scampering have failed laughably.

“Gosh, I forgot how theatrical women are. You are smart darling; you know what I want from day one, just a happy family. Nothing that horrendous has happened and especially not as badly as put it. I’m just looking out for you and me in the long run.” Steve slowly treaded towards you, his hand extended to pat your arm comfortingly but you involuntarily flinched at contact and stepped back. Steve clearly didn’t like that as he caught your arm in a bruising grip and jerked you towards him. Manhandling you as your wet hands rushed to ease his grip was not a tough task for Steve, a surprise to none.

“Stop trembling like I’ve actually done something to harm you!”

Steve clearly didn’t know how to comfort women and it showed.

You stopped with the cowering away, even though it disgusted you to be this much in close proximity with your assaulter. He clearly had anger issues and no clue how to solve them. You needed to steer the conversation right and get him out. You could see your hands visibly shake as you put them on his chest, just to create some distance and in a way of surrendering to not fight. The tears slowed but you don’t think they stopped; it was hard to tell with a million other things on your mind.

As your eyes made contact, Steve loosened his grip, clearly a bit satisfied by your submission, as he began counting to help you breathe. As much as you hated to admit, it helped you and you got a flashback to the time when you freaked out on him about Grace at that extravagant dinner date. That was a sweet gesture then, not so sweet now. Funny how drastically things change with time.

It wasn’t so much Steve’s help as it was your own mind telling you to be fucking smart about the whole ordeal right now.

“Good. Better. Now let’s talk. Why were you planning to run away? I’ve been busy and coming home to find out that wasn’t joyful, you know.” His smile suggested a better mood than before but his voice, his husky voice always had this daring edge that almost challenged you to defy him but at the same time warned you of unpleasant consequences if you did.

“Steve, I’m scared.” You spoke with utmost honesty. “The part of the world you associate yourself with scares me. You can’t blame me for not wanting that life for Grace, I mean you have a kid of your own. Wasn’t the carnival attack specifically on Sarah?”

The reasoning was right but you knew you triggered him the moment his smile evaporated. He either felt insulted as a parent or disrespected in his profession or probably both.

He was fighting his inner demons already and you pointing it out was a slap to his face, a hit he didn’t want to take.

“That was a slip up, I admit. Never again. I’m only human, okay?” He convinced himself and you, his grip tightening a bit again.

Oh no, not the right direction to take.

You reckoned he still had nightmares about it like you, he really did love Sarah a lot, all things aside.

“Besides, I am looking out for you! Out for you and Grace and Sarah. I remember my promise of never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

You definitely didn’t trust his security or his people because what sort of a mobster let his daughter get targeted and possibly abducted? You definitely didn’t know the whole story or if it was just a bad day but he wasn’t a person that deserved some slack. Despite all this, you knew what all he held above you, above a common man. He might not be ‘Kingpin’ skilled but a threat to you nonetheless.

Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out, “Is that what you call following me around, huh?” which you immediately regretted.

“Trust the process, baby. Everything is just to protect you.”

Is that what he called stalking even Grace around and twistedly enough, sending you proof of that? The anonymous thread of photos was another nightmare of yours, thanks to him. The last being a candid photo inside Grace’s room, her sleeping in her bed this morning and that’s when you decided you needed to get out. Of course, that didn’t go as planned.

“How am I supposed to do that when you have cameras in my house?!” You scoffed and he reeled back at the accusation, having the nerve to look impressed at being uncovered and caught red-handed.

“Oh my fucking God, it was you! You sick pervert!” You jumped out of his grip, your eyes wide and horrified. “I wasn’t aware of what to make of it but of course, it was you! Who else would be sick enough to do that?” You let out a humorless chuckle. You always put things past him even when you keep telling yourself you shouldn’t. When will you ever learn huh?  

You were full on panicking yet again, this man was an assaulter, a stalker and a creep too. It would have made a good dark, psychological thriller for you to watch if you weren’t the protagonist about to suffer his obsession.

He reached out to steady you again, but you whipped and stumbled back, realizing too late that you elbowed Steve’s nose so bad that there was a crunch. That, right there, was the look a man real-fucking-furious on Steve’s face and now you could see the feared mobster, the man who was personally terrorizing you under the beautiful, Greek God façade.

Steve reacted so fast even with an injury that in a split second, your view of his face turned into a view of his crotch.

“You do realize that there are others ways for me to teach you obedience? I think it’s fucking time you show me your gratitude for my care and attention and apologize for your misconduct and unkind response.” Steve spoke with a hoarse voice, a voice running out of patience and just about done with defiance.

His hand fisted your hair, maintaining eye contact while he nodded between you and his crotch. You knew what he wanted, what he was expecting as ‘thanks’.

“Steve, please no, you don’t-”

His other hand grabbed your jaw, stopping you from speaking as he warned, “I think you have done just enough talking for today, so why don’t you put that tongue to a better use and show me how sorry you are. Better make it convincing because I’d hate to pay one of your friends a visit and then bitch about a nasty blowjob.” He smirked at the end of his monologue, eyes shining with triumph and amusement.

You wouldn’t let him harm anyone else, you couldn’t. You and your daughter were already knee-deep in a pit and at this point, it’d just be cruel to drag someone else in. With shaky hands opening his pants, you just hoped you could get Grace out before you eventually were buried in it.

“Now that’s a good girl. Submissive is a sexy look on you.” His hands patted your hair, playing with your tresses while yours pulled his pants and then briefs down.

His member jerked out, almost slapping you in the face as you recoiled at his insolence to get hard and erect at your torment. Your disdain must have shown which he took as admiration and derision to take his affluent cock in.

“No need to get shy, I have faith you’ll be able take it just as well in your pretty pussy as you will right now. Open up-”

“Steve, I beg you-”

Just as you had cut him off, he interrupted your pleading. Your gag reflex was probably the most efficient in the world but that turned this narcissist on. It had been years since you had done it, never with a man as beefy as Steve.

His taste was salty and if you had to put it into better words, it was the like overpriced sea salt flakes that you never bought. High and pricey and for the entitled.

Your hands clutched at his thighs as you blacked out multiple times; your jaw aching, uvula swaying and tears escaping. Him forcing himself on you brough a new sense of vulnerability as your body trembled. Steve relished like a sadist, practically rutting into you all by himself as you just sat there with your jaw unnaturally open.

His obscene moans and groans were crass and nauseating and you just prayed for this to be over soon and for no one to walk in on this, especially your kid.

It seemed like it would never end, your body dehydrating with all the spit it produced, the drool dribbling and landing just beside your knees on your printed rug. You would have to throw that out.

The tears stooped after some point, the sobbing an unnecessary action that just tired you out more on this eventful day. You moved your tongue around to prevent your teeth from scratching him when he shifted angles. If this was what he did on slightly mad, you didn’t want to find what he did for a more serious punishment.

Apparently, that action was something that turned him on even more, his breath hitching as neared closure. In broken whispers he demanded that again and you complied, wanting to get done with it.

He growled in the moment of his release and you tried to lean back but his grip didn’t relent. “Swallow.” His grainy, exasperated voice said out loud and you knew better than to defy.

He released you and you fell on to the rug, hip bruising by knocking into some furniture and tears coming back again after being hydrated by his seed. He packed himself, his smile smug and content as his expressions truly resembled ecstasy being personified.

“You be a good fiancée from now on and maybe you’ll have all your friends alive and present at our wedding. No cheeky business from now on, got it?” Steve hummed then and strutted out, not even bothering to listen to your reply.

As soon as the door slammed, your eyes closed and your demons danced again.

There was no right direction to take when you were stuck in a loop.  

[feetoffire]

Captain Christopher Pike, the rec list

I had this almost finished and ready to post, and then the kitten wiped everything, so here it is, a gazillion years later than I wanted. Yay. 

Ongoing - the fic is complete, but not all chapters are posted

WIP - fic isn’t finished

Incomplete - last-updated-more-than-a-year-ago WIPs

recs under the cut; spoilers abound

AOS

Gen

Pike’s Office by AnxiouslyGoing. Poor Jim has a Tarsus related panic attack, and ends up sleeping in Pike’s office/on Pike’s lap. Academy Era, bonus appearance by Spock, dad!Pike. 2k oneshot.

Another Life by LullabyKnell. Time travel fix it for ST2009. As ever, LullabyKnell gave us a spectacular, delightfully well-written fic. Dadmiral Pike, even if he’s technically a captain at this point. No pairings, everything is platonic. 12 chapters, 61k, T. Complete. 

Watching the Cloud of Dust by AngelQueen. Pike runs into Spock Prime while seeing the Enterprise off. Cue melancholy fluff (it follows Spock Prime around like a dog). 1.7k oneshot, G.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

horizons universe by gracieminabox. Massive, massive series spanning the whole of Chris’ life. Not canon compliant, i.e. Pike Lives. “Christopher Pike, in word and in deed.” Series, 263k in seventeen parts, G-E. 

Altered Horizons by InsaneSociopath. The bar fight goes very differently because Chris gets elbowed in the face. Featuring depressed!bipolar!Chris, who is Not Having A Good Time, Emergency Department (ED) doc Bones, and mother-hen!Jim. Phil is essentially Sir Not Appearing In This Fic, but he and Chris are married. Seven chapters, 14k, G. Incomplete. I adore this one. 

When Darkness Drifts by InsaneSociopath. Tarsus fic. Jim gets adopted by Starfleet but still ends up on Tarsus, except Chris is there. All Tarsus-related warnings apply. Jim and Chris centric; Phil is most present in the last few chapters. Six chapters, 44k, M. Complete. 

Kinktober 2017 by nerdqueenenterprise. What it says on the tin. Series, 13k in eight parts, T-E. Complete. 

A Vacation Long Overdue by nerdqueenenterprise. Reunion sex, mostly. They haven’t seen each other in six months, so they take leave on a remote beach. ~9k oneshot, E. 

The Weight of a Man by imachar. Another huge series charting the evolution of Chris and Phil’s relationship. Both canon compliant and canon non-compliant, so there’s a choice if you want it. Series, 174k in sixteen parts, M-E. Complete. 

shatterproof by gracieminabox. Will Make You Cry. Phil’s POV, STID compliant, featuring a picture from their early days. 4.3k oneshot, M.

Winged Desires and Veiled Persuasions by imachar. Post-Narada, ignores/was written before STID. Bones ends up hanging out with Phil and Chris at Spuhura’s wedding reception, and then the three of them have sex in Phil and Chris’ hotel suite. Pretty much pure smut. 12k oneshot, E. 

McPike

The Wind and Its Satellite by severinne. Long series, some BDSM, eventual Bones/Jim/Pike. Something of a McPike classic. Series, 186k in twenty parts, M-E.

Partridge Fallen From the Pear Tree by severinne. Post-divorce Bones works as a prostitute to make ends meet. Pike comes to town to recruit him, ends up paying for a night without knowing Bones is Bones, and then they both freak the fuck out when Pike realizes who he is. More-or-less just smut and angst. Pre-canon. Three chapters, 12k, E. Complete.

Singularities Verse by FrancescaMonterone. Bones and Pike fall in love, Pike adopts Chekov, Jim is Jim. Bonus Admirals Archer and Reed, and Archer/Reed. Mostly pre-canon, ace Pike. Series, 81k in six parts, T. WIP. 

Need by Noranem. Post STID, Pike and Bones invite Jim into their relationship and their bed. Established McPike, early days Bones/Jim/Pike. Four chapters, 12k, E. Complete. 

Pirk

See All The Stars by HoneyBeeBritt. Chris and Jim fell in love some time before Daystrom. Fluff and angst, with a happy ending promised in part four. I come back to this one regularly, especially part one. Series, 6.2k in three parts, T-M. Ongoing.

Shining On The Quay by topaz. Post-Narada through Beyond, ignores STID. Chris and Jim fall in love, get together, and figure out how to keep a relationship going when one of them is in space and the other is an admiral. Series, 32k in three parts, E. Complete. 

You Still Got Wheels, Kid by withthepilot. Yes, this is partially on here because it’s one of the few (good) fem!Pike fics. Pre-canon, Pike finds out Jim’s alive because she (not Winona or Sam) is listed as his emergency contact. Prostitute Jim. Takes place two years before canon, I think. 12k oneshot, E. 

Moments along the path by InsaneSociopath. Jim, through no fault of his own, is assigned to Pike as an aide bc Command thinks he’s a loose cannon. Pike is delighted /s. (he warms up eventually.) Some Tarsus PTSD; also a fair amount of fluff. Academy Era slow burn that goes right through to (immediately) post-Narada. 46k oneshot, M. Second chapter is artwork. Long but 100% worth it. 

How Do You Want Me, How Do You Want Me? by babykid528. Get together via smut. Feelings abound but talking about them does not. 3k oneshot, E. 

The Ocean Between Us by severinne. They get a drink in a bar. They’re both dead. Something of a get-together fic. Can and Will sucker punch you with feels. STID compliant. 1k oneshot, T.

Mutual Profusion of Good Feeling (aka Wherein the Aliens have a Flair for Mood Lighting) by kayliemalinza. This doesn’t really count as Pirk, but it’s not platonic enough for the gen category. Away mission, the premise is ‘aliens made them do it’ but there’s no sex or fade to black. Romantic, I guess? I really don’t know, but the prose is gorgeous. Also a Pike Lives/returns to the Enterprise AU. 5k oneshot, T.

Timeline Shenanigans

In plain view by IceCream_Junkie, Killermanatee. Pike/Pike. What can I say? The image of Greenwood’s Pike and Mount’s Pike together is very pretty. 2k oneshot, E.

Out of This World by TheAsexualofSpades. Space Puns. That is all. 1.1k oneshot, G. 

Discovery/quasi-SNW

Gen

A Small Storm by EKthered. Spock goes to visit his captain and ends up comforting him instead. Post Boreth. 2.3k oneshot. 

you were never broken by ordinary things by SiderumInCaelo. Michael Burnham & Chris Pike. Michael has only an inkling of what’s going on, but she manages to comfort Chris anyway. Post Boreth. 1.2k oneshot. 

Piler | Chris Pike/Ash Tyler

the chair and the badge by ninjamcgarrett. The boys are soft and in love. Lots of smut, but a fair amount of plot. Their respective traumas are addressed too, so there’s plenty of h/c. Honestly? My favorite from this pairing. Series, 59k in five parts, M-E. Ongoing. 

Reality by aishahiwatari. Initially a take on how these two idiots settled their differences, and evolution from there. Part two is post-season two of Disco. Series, 5k in two parts, E. Complete.

survival is insufficient by topaz. Post-Disco; they get together to remember Discovery’s crew, and then they get together. Traumas are addressed. Part two is a sort-of case fic, TW starvation. Series, 33k in two parts, E. WIP.

Feeling Too Deeply by NightOfTheLand. Established Piler, post-Disco season two couch sex. 6k oneshot, E. 

dancing to a beat of our own, flying with the speakers blown by wolfhalls. Neither of them want to talk about anything, aka Horrible Coping Mechanisms TM. Bottom Pike, quasi-hurt/comfort. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Christmas in Sickbay by lah_mrh. Chris is accident- and injury-prone and has a new reason to hate spiders. Ash just wants to spend time with his boyfriend. 1k oneshot, G. 

The Pillow Will Disappear When I Forget I Put a Pillow There, Worry Not by prototype_malice. Sleepy fluff and cuddles. (they deserve it.) 665 words, oneshot, G. 

Chris Pike/Una | Number One 

it will take place without witnesses by love_in_the_time_of_kohlinahr. Post Disco, Pike is struggling with the knowledge of his future, so he and Una play chess until stupid o’clock in the morning (as one does), and then he lowkey has a panic attack. Una POV. Also features sleepy sex, but it isn’t plot-important and can be skipped over, if you wish. 2k oneshot, E. 

Overtime by Astronoddingoff. Una has Thoughts about Chris working doubles for the better part of a week. Also men get pegged. Definite sub!Chris. 7k oneshot, E. 

Terminal Velocity by Astronoddingoff. Una pegs Chris and drags his favorite fantasy out of him. Chris is On Board with all of this. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Boyce/Pike) and hardcore switch/sub vibes from Chris. 6.8k oneshot, E. 

All for One by knightinmourning. D/s universe, where Pike had/has to hide the fact that he’s a sub to make (and stay) captain. Mostly reccing for part two, which has a fair amount of hurt/comfort (and also hints at threatened sexual assault and definite torture; be forewarned). Technically also Chris/Phil and Chris/Spock, but there’s no pairing sex, and part two is entirely Una’s POV. Series, 4.2k in two parts, M-E. Probably incomplete. 

A Gentle Touch by jedi_harkness. Chris and Una shower together. Body worship, no sex. So Much Fluff (and also happy tears). It’s super sweet. 1.7k oneshot, T.

Phil Boyce/Chris Pike

Decompression by Astronoddingoff. Chris is elated by a recent treaty success and the time spent dirtside. Phil does his best to make him even happier. Lowkey sub Pike. Implied poly!Chris (i.e. Pike/One). 3.5k oneshot, E. 

Most Pike/Boyce fics fall under the AOS tags

Una/Phil/Chris

Triangulate by Astronoddingoff. Sex pollen, but they’re already-kind-of-mostly in an established relationship. Recent miscommunications lead to angst. They all love each other and they’re all idiots. Lowkey sub Pike. Two chapters, 20k, E. 

Holy by Astronoddingoff. Self-actualizing featuring religious guilt/conflict, i.e. Pike is a sub and religion is weird about enjoying yourself. 2.7k oneshot, E. 

Happy Birthday by MeganMoonlight. It’s Phil’s birthday. Cue breakfast in bed. 530 word oneshot, G. 

[mooshua]

hi uh it’s mooshua (aurora, moosh, whatever you want to call me). I’m so sorry about my sudden leave and everything and worrying some of you. that was really uncool of me to do and I really am so regretful for that. honestly I’m kinda embarrassed right now. explaining myself is rather difficult because, I won’t lie, I’ve been having feelings of inadequacy towards both myself and the works I put out. lol so I’m kind of having a hard time articulating my emotions because my mind is all over the place and I’m literally sweating as I type this out.

long story short: I got burnt out, started hating my writing with all my being, accumulated some Not So Nice messages, and then just did not want to be perceived anymore.

the long story: like I said above, I’ve been having Conflicting Feelings with regards to what I have been writing. anytime I read what I wrote I would just feel my gut twist and turn like I was going to throw up because I WAS SO EMBARRASSED. nothing about it was... up to my standard? nothing flowed right, I could point out a billion mistakes, and I wasn’t laughing like I used to. and it wasn’t just feeling embarrassed, it was like whenever I wrote something I would Not Be Having Fun With It because I kept thinking “deadline deadline deadline you need to finish this by the end of this week it’s only 5k words are you saying you can’t come up with a measly chapter in a week you used to be able to write 15 chapters in a month you dog” and I would just force myself to sit in front of my computer for hours and when I finally finished I wasn’t really happy with the final product I would just think “god I need a smoke break” even though I’ve never smoked in my life. and then I’d also get “please update!” messages/comments in the dry periods and, don’t get me wrong I really appreciate that people are reading my stuff, but I’d feel more and more stressed because then I’d automatically think “Oh My God People Are Waiting And I’m Letting Them Down.”

so with all these bad feelings welling up inside me I thought “I need a break.” and that’s what I did. I took like a 3 week break in september/october (I honestly don’t remember because the days have been bleeding together) in hopes that I just needed to rest to get my brain started again! after those 3 weeks I then did the usual routine of writing and updating, but again Things Just Didn’t Feel Right because it felt like I was diving back into that stress inducing spiral of the dreaded Weekly Updates.

I mean, I would get so hung over this stuff because in the back of my mind during my free time I’d be thinking “I could be writing and finishing up both series right now” and you know what? I’d do that. well, I tried at least. I’d force myself to sit and type whenever I had ANY free time because I already had everything planned, I just needed to put words to a page. well, doing that for nights on end was just mentally exhausting me to New Levels. everything I was doing was not sustainable at all.

AND THEN THINGS SLOWLY GOT WORSE because I would have zero confidence in my writing and every week or so I’d get a message in my inbox saying something along the lines of (or rather word for word) “your writing isn’t that good/special/anything new I don’t understand why people are reading it/why you get so many notes/you’re not as funny as you think you are” and at first I would kind of laugh at it and go “oh trust me buddy, I’m wondering the same thing too” and then delete it because I do Not Wish to entertain the thought on my blog, but then I was hitting a new all time low in my mentality and I got another message on the day I deactivated which was a Really Bad Day and it read “your writing isn’t good” and I went back to the chapter I was editing for the day, felt my gut do that twist and I thought “you know what? you’re right. it’s not. goodbye.” pressed the forbidden red button and honestly felt a weight lift off my shoulders because that meant I no longer had to deal with that stupid cycle of constantly updating in order to Feel Something.

I kept thinking “why is this not as fun as it used to be, why am I so stressed out all the time opening that stupid doc and going on my blog?” like I would literally sit down and think about this as if it was a math problem or something. my inadequacies kept rising within me but I would just bottle it up, go to writing and trying to answer messages like nothing was wrong because I really didn’t want to worry anyone or think I was a charity case who needed help, but now that I think about it I really should have talked this out instead keeping my mouth shut. I just thought this was something everyone goes through so I was like whatever it’ll pass. I kept thinking “this shouldn’t be as deep as I’m making it” and brush it aside, but then I kept thinking negatively about my ability to write and literally DREADED sitting down in front of my laptop that I would have to hype myself up in order to get a sentence in. I think the last time I actually felt really proud of something I had written was during the summer...... and then after that it was just downhill.

and listen. I know this is just a Fun endeavor and I really shouldn’t care about what other people think as long as it makes me happy, but along the way I stopped being happy because I started caring Way Too much and putting unrealistic expectations on myself. it’s weird. I know at my Big Age I should have a better mentality, but it’s been eating at me for a while and I just wanted to pull the plug.

okay now the part that a lot of people are wondering: are you going to finish your series? I plan to. I really want to. I think it’d be a waste not to. I’m still feeling pretty conflicted right now with my writing, but I already mapped everything out, and I don’t like to break promises since I already said I was going to do this thing. thanks to anyone who read my works and I’m sorry to have worried you. I just needed to take a step back and think about what’s good for myself.

yeah. so that’s my explanation. this whole thing is so long and for that I’m sorry. if you went through this then pat on the back for you. I don’t know when I’ll come back or how long it will take. I just want time for myself and to not think about anything with regards to writing. like at all. also I only have 1 request: for anyone who downloaded the series from ao3, please do not repost or reupload or redistribute them. please I’m literally begging. I deleted them for a reason and I really don’t like the idea of these stories floating around without my consent. when I do get back into it I’d like to make edits to what I have written. idk if any of my mutuals still want to talk to me after this but feel free to lmk lmfao sorry I know that I sound like I’m off the deep end but I really just need to cool it before I start diving back into a Healthy Relationship With My Writing Hobby lol. why am I so dramatic... SORRY. anyway. I hope you guys are staying happy and healthy during this time. don’t forget that.

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 09 FINAL

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: Ahhh. We’re finally here. At the ending. 

I feel like so much happened since I started writing this fic. I’ve been through so many ups and downs, and so have my characters. And you guys are probably the same; I wonder what adventures you guys went on as I posted this? I hope they were fun ones. 

Anyway, thank you for sticking around for this long journey home. I hope you enjoy the final chapter, and I hope you enjoyed following these guys on their adventure. 

Till next time, my loves.

Tags: @blue1928​ @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

It’s a long journey home. The three of you stay with the mice long enough to see the first of the recovered victims poke their little noses out of their burrows. The mayor, a harried, round little mouse with hay coloured fur and absurdly long whiskers, cannot express his gratitude deeply enough, other than to procure the three of you a comfortable stay in a nearby inn. 

The journey back is only slightly less fraught with danger. The Saishtas think the two of you are dead, and not long after you part ways with the mice, new begins to circulate in the local areas that the might, evil Saishta queen has died and that her kingdom has fallen into disarray. You come across one or two of the insidious lizardpeoples after that but none of them approach or acknowledge you. Why bother, when they failed to save their queen?

After hearing that news, it’s more of a relaxed journey. You all head on from town to town, purchasing supplies and another bed roll for Jungkook. Jin is strangely eager to spend what little currency you have on the most comfortable bedroll he can find, and when Jungkook suggests he just continues to share in the interest of saving funds, Jin nearly has an aneurysm. 

Jin’s behaviour is probably the strangest part of the journey. He’s not cold or standoffish like he normally is when having a crisis, but he’s definitely gentler. More reserved but also warmer. It’s not unwelcome. In fact, you can’t help but wonder. If the war had never come, would this be the life you had with Jin? Endless adventures amongst the thrilling dangers of your home realm? 

You bring the thought up to Jin and Jungkook one night, while the three of you huddle together over a fire, snacking on some of the dried meats you’d purchased from the last town. 

Jin looks surprised at the thought. 

“I’ve always thought it would be you and Taehyung going on the big adventures.” He points out. “The two of you were never able to hold still, even for a moment.” His smile is warm and fond as he recalls your childhood. 

“You’d have been dragged along.” Jungkook counters through a particularly chewy mouthful. “You’d probably be married to (Y/N) and forced to follow her around keep her out of trouble.”

Oddly, you expect Jin to flush, or protest, or attempt to strangle Jungkook. You certainly feel a bit flushed at the thought. But Jin is unfazed- he merely offers a secretive smile and tilts his head curiously at you. You couldn’t decipher the look if you tried, but it has your throat feeling tight. 

You change the conversation topic after that, but it’s not the only way that Jin has changed. A few days later, the three of you are attempting to cross a little slippery creek when you lose your footing. 

You stumble over a few rocks and land on your hands and knees. Even in the deepest part of the creek it only comes up to your mid-thighs when you are on all fours. 

Jin skids to a stop beside you, crouching before you in the water. He doesn’t seem to care about the way his clothes become soaked. 

“Are you hurt?” He demands. You take stock of your injuries- a scraped knee, a bruised shin, the palms of your hands rubbed raw. Nothing that won’t be gone in an hour or two. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure him. 

He nods awkwardly for a moment and then offers “I could kiss it better?”

It takes you a few blinks to comprehend his words, and even then, it makes you re-evaluate the severity of your injuries. 

“What?” You demand, shocked. He shrugs and looks away. 

“Like when we were kids. I could kiss it better. You used to always refuse to stop crying until I kissed you. We could try that again.” He offers nonchalantly. You must have hit your head. It’s the only explanation. You can only stare, your mouth dropped into an “o”. 

“I guess that’s a no.” Jin finally says, oddly sulky in the way he says it. “Just thought I’d offer.”

You wish you could say that it’s the strangest of his behaviour, but it’s not. The rest of the journey goes like that- if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think Jin was flirting. Albeit, in a weirdly awkward, tentative way. Even Jungkook notices it. 

“Do you think he’s finally gone mad? Maybe the extreme social media detox has made all his brain cells shrivel up and die.” Jungkook whispers conspiratorially one night while the two of you wonder a small village that is throwing a little festival. Colourful lanterns line the streets and the various creatures that inhabit the village are dressed in bright colours. Jin had decided to stay back at the inn but the two of you had wanted to explore. 

“It’s the only logical explanation.” You concede, as much as it physically pains you to agree with Jungkook in anything. 

“All I have to say is, if this is how he flirts I have no idea how he gets so many dates.” Jungkook laments, and your eyes widen. 

“Stop.” You laugh. “He’s not flirting. It’s Jin. He thinks of me like an unwanted houseplant.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” Jungkook asks suddenly. His gaze is probing, and the mood is oddly serious for what you thought was a joking conversation. 

“What?” You ask, caught off-guard. 

“What if he’s actually flirting? Hypothetically. What would you do?” He questions. 

You go silent, as you contemplate your answer. Honestly, you’re not stupid enough to entertain the thought of Jin liking you back. But something about Jungkook’s earnestness has you genuinely considering it. 

“I don’t know.” You finally admit. You sigh, suddenly feeling tired. 

“Can I ask you something?” Jungkook asks, tentative and almost gentle. He tilts his head curiously. “Do you like him?”

The question startles you. It feels like it’s been so long since you came to term with your feelings that you forgot not everyone else was aware of your revelation. Honestly, even to yourself it had filtered to the back of your mind. An unchanging fact, rarely acknowledged. The sky is blue. Jungkook is annoying. You are in love with Kim Seokjin. 

“I do.” You finally admit. You’re reaching the end of the street where most of the festivities are taking place- the crowd is thinning and more distance separates each lantern. 

“Then, if he were flirting... wouldn’t the answer be that you’d date him?” Jungkook asks. He’s pulling a face like he’s working out a rather complex maths problem. “Why don’t you know what you’d do?” 

The two of you settle at the end of the street. Roughly hewn chairs are scattered randomly across the little square. In the corner, a large, greyish being snoozes, and a small group of little humanoid trees laugh over something and chatter in a foreign language. 

“I feel like there’s too much to sort out first. Like... to date him I’d have to be better. I’d have to have a job. And I’d have to have apologised to my mother. I’d need to stop spongeing off the people around me. And maybe live out of home. Be a proper, human adult.” You list. “The me that I am now... I couldn’t date Jin. I’m not... I’m not...”

“Good enough?” Jungkook finishes the words gently. There’s a sad look in his eyes, and it surprises you. 

You nod. 

“Yeah.” You admit, and your voice is oddly choked. It’s weird- you had thought you were at peace with your feelings. You were meant to be happy with whatever scraps of affection Jin threw your way. But you’re not- there’s a deep, miserable ache in your chest that won’t go away. 

Jungkook uses his sleeves to dab at the tears you didn’t even know were slipping down your cheeks. 

“For what it’s worth,” Jungkook offers. “Jin doesn’t actually care about that stuff. The only reason he makes a big deal out of it is because he thinks you’ll be happy if all that stuff works out.” He tells you. “And hey. Someone once told me that the best things are the scariest to start- maybe this is one of those times?”

After that, you call it a night, and Jungkook doesn’t bring the topic up again. But you can’t forget his words. The closer to the portal the three of you draw, the more the ache in your chest grows; the closer you get to going back to normal life. What happens to you and Jin when you step back into the human realm? 

What if Jungkook’s words are true? Would you... would you have to return to normal? Could you have more? Is it stupid that a part of your stupid, traitorous heart longed for it to be true with each new step towards home?

There’s a surefire way to find out; if you ask him. But you can’t. The words die in your throat every time you even consider it. You remember how he freaked out when Jungkook suggested it earlier on the trip. He likely already knows your feelings despite your denial, and it is only your constant denial otherwise that allows the two of you to exist in this strange limbo. If you stopped denying them, he’d have to address those feelings and then what? It would be back to square one- the avoidance and awkwardness as you cling to the shambles of your friendship.

You can’t go back to that- you’ve fought so hard to fix what is between you, to salvage things. Would it be worth risking it, just in the hopes that you and Jin could be more?

The night before you reach the portal, all the nerves and worries you have build up to the point that you find yourself gazing up listlessly at the canopy overhead. The branches interlace and you can perk glimpses of the stars beyond. This is the last glimpse you will get of these stars. You have already decided you won’t come back here. It’s time to stop looking back and only look forward. 

Yet, despite your resolve, despite everything, sleep evades you. Tomorrow, real life awaits. An existential sort of dread has gripped you.

With a sigh, you sit up. To your right, Jungkook has curled into a tight ball as he peacefully rests. But to your surprise, Jin’s bedroll is empty. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him move. 

It doesn’t take long to locate him. Only a short distance away, where the vegetation is a bit lighter and a clear patch of sky shimmers overhead, Jin lounges peacefully. He gazes thoughtfully up at the sky overhead as the starlight gilds his face in breathtaking silver. 

Wordlessly, you step towards him. A twig snaps beneath your feet and Jin whirls around in surprise. When he spots you, he smiles and gentle pats the open space beside him. 

Awkwardly, you settle beside him, hugging your knees to your chest. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” He questions, his eyes closed serenely. The soft sound of wind and distant sounds of wildlife filters through the night air. 

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice heavy with a sigh. He blinks open one eye to peer curiously at you. It’s the most relaxed and open you’ve seen him in a long time. “What about you? You couldn’t sleep either?” 

Jin shrugs. 

“I could have.” He informs you. “But I thought I’d enjoy my last night in this realm instead.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. Jin has made it clear throughout the trip that this journey has been anything but enjoyable. 

“Enjoy?” You say, only slightly incredulous. He nods and opens both eyes to stare up the sky. 

“I’m as shocked as you.” He concedes. “This place has only ever meant bad things to me. It’s why I could never understand your fixation with it.” 

You grimace.

“I kind of get it now, though.” He admits, before you can complain to him. “It’s a pretty beautiful place.” 

“What changed your mind?” You ask, your curiosity piqued. Jin shrugs. 

“You did.” He answers simply. 

“M-me?” You’re not sure why you stutter; perhaps it is the strange look to his eyes as he turns fully to face you. He pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his cheek against them, watching you lazily. 

“Yup.” He says, as if it’s the easiest confession in the world. “When I used to think about this place, all I could think about was the night we fled. My dad didn’t even time to wash the blood off his hands. He grabbed me by the wrist and held on so tight I had bruises. I didn’t want to remember that. I didn’t want to remember the place that had caused us so much pain. And you... you were such a shell. I felt like one of my best friends had died in this realm and I was so angry at what it had taken from me.” His gaze is distant with recollection. “And then I was mad at you, because you couldn’t forget no matter what I did.” He gazes at you. “But now it’s finally given me something.”

You’re startled, by his heartfelt words. You’ve always known Jin hated this realm, hated the way the beings of this realm had driven you all out. But you didn’t know you had such a huge role in his opinion of it. “You.” He finishes. “So I guess I can’t really hate this place after all.”

You’re struck speechless in that moment, and your heart swells with an overwhelming feeling. You already know you love the man before you, but in that moment, you’re shocked at just how much. A feeling bubbles up at the base of your chest- your heart feels fit to burst. 

“What do you mean?” You ask- is this feeling hope? What does Jin mean, when he says the realm gave him you?

Jin merely shrugs. 

“I’ll let you speculate.” He tells you, shooting you a coy smile, an oddly cheeky look that he’s given to his friends before but never to you. But then his expression shifts into something more serious. “I think there are more pressing things to discuss first, though. Like why you’re sitting here with me instead of sleeping?”

The warm feeling from earlier instantly evaporates as you recall the reason for your melancholy. 

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You confess. “About going home. I’ve... I’ve really enjoyed this trip. And I’m excited to go home. But I’m just so...” you struggle to find the word. “So...”

“Nervous?” Jin suggests. He shuffles so he’s just a bit closer. His shoulder brushes yours- if you extended your neck, you could rest your head against his broad shoulders. A strange electricity buzzes through your body at the thought- it reminds you of your fight over the fungus a few days ago. The air had felt strangely charged then as well. 

“Yeah.” You admit, swallowing past a dry throat. “There’s a lot to do, back home.”

“Back home?” Jin echoes, and then his smile turns warm. His mouth carefully forms the word “home” and his eyes wrinkle into two joyous crescent moon shapes. “I guess there is.” He acknowledges. “But you’ve already made the first step. You’re calling the human realm home.”

That startles you. Obviously, it is your home. But you hadn’t realised how instinctive that had become until this moment; at some point the human realm had stopped being that uncomfortable alien place, and had become the place you’re meant to go back to. Home. Jin watches you process the words carefully before he speaks again. 

“You don’t have to be nervous.” He tells you softly. The tone to his voice is oddly vulnerable and delicate. Something delicate hovers between you like the flutter of a pixie’s wing. “You said you wanted to work things out together, right? So, you don’t have to be nervous because I’ll be there with you.”

He looks away and his expression is surprisingly shy. “I know you said I don’t have to be the guy with it all worked out, but I still want to try. It makes me happy. Being there for you. So even if you’re nervous... we’ll work it out together, right?”

It is that exact moment that you figure it out. Earlier, you had been uneasy at Jungkook’s line of questioning. You didn’t feel worthy of Jin’s love and affection, and that made you afraid. Because you couldn’t bear to lose him. You still can’t bear to lose him. But gazing into the warm eyes before you, you know you won’t ever lose him. The two of you have braved death together- you’ll make it through anything. 

You feel lighter then, and you offer Jin a smile. 

“Thank you.” You whisper. Jin smiles back. 

“Any time.” He whispers back to you in answer. 

Sleep comes easily after that, and so too does the end of your journey. All too soon you stand before the portal back home. 

The trip feels like it’s taken a thousand years and no time at all at the same time. By your calculation, the entire journey has taken almost a month, with all the detours and misadventures. That means almost six hours have passed in the human realm. Jin has almost definitely missed his dinner plans, and your mother is probably starting to wonder why you aren’t home yet. 

“What will you do, when you go back?” Jin asks. Jungkook has already stepped through and you’re surprised that Jin is making conversation now, of all times. 

“Apologise to my mother.” You say easily. “What about you?”

“I’m going to save my snapchat streaks and apologise to Joon.” Jin shares. He’s nervously twisting his fingers together. The energy he gives off is like an uneasy teenager about to do a huge public speech. It’s a big contrast from the person her was last night. Like he’s bracing himself for something. 

You thought you’d be bracing yourself too. On the other side is hard work and futile dreams and a bleary, dull city. 

But on the other side is your mother, your friends, your family. Your evil cat waits for you on the other side; the life your father dreamed of for you is on the other side. You had thought that so much in your life is wrong, and now that the portal is here, you realise that it’s not. It’s just life. Things go wrong and things go right. Like the path of a river, cutting through the vast, unknown wilderness. You had been thinking of it this whole time like you’d flip a switch and things would be easy. But that’s not what it’s going to be like on the other side of this portal, and it’s not really what you want things to be like. It’s an adventure of a different kind. 

And it’s an adventure that you want to share... with Jin. 

You remember what Jungkook had said- the best things in life are the scariest to start. And you’re scared now. No, you’re terrified. But if you’re this scared, then you know that this moment is going to be huge. Life-changing. You can’t keep the words in a moment longer. You don’t want to. You’ve spent too long running and fearing and hesitating and overthinking. But you’re confident, that the two of you will survive this even if he doesn’t feel the same way, and you’re ready to take that risk.

The river loves those who take the plunge.

“Jin,” you call, and you thought that if you ever did this that you’d be lost for words. But you’re not. Because you’re finally ready. Last night had solidified that for you. The words come easily. “You remember how you said that I look at you a certain way?”

You turn and face him, and he looks bewildered. 

“Like you’re my hero.” You recall. And then you steel yourself and meet his gaze. It’s the same eyes you’ve known all your life. The same eyes you want to look into for the remainder of your life. “It’s because you are my hero. No, actually, it’s more than that.” You assert, and he just stares, completely dumbstruck. “I look at you like that because I love you. Because I admire you and think you’re strong and brave and kind, and even if you’re not the guy who has it all together, I still feel the same way. And I lied when I said I just wanted you to be my friend. I thought it was enough, but it’s not- I want to be your partner. I want to be your best friend. I want to be your girlfriend.” You say. And then you summon all the exciting fluttering feels in your chest and let it pour into your smile. “I love you, Kim Seokjin.” 

Before you stands something you never thought you’d see. Kim Seokjin, the mastermind behind the Jant, is completely speechless. And then slowly, very slowly, he opens his mouth to give a response. 

“Are you dead?” Jungkook demands as the upper half of his body appears once more through the portal. “It’s been like 30 seconds in that realm which is approximately ten years in this realm if my maths is correct!”

You spring back from Jin. You’re startled at how far you have to step back- had you really been standing that close? 

“R-right.” You stutter. You feel like you’ve been caught cheating on a diet or something equally scandalous. “We’re coming.”

Jin just looks annoyed. 

“No we’re not. Give us a minute.” He snaps at Jungkook, placing a palm against Jungkook’s head and shoving him back through the portal none-too-gently. He then turns urgently back to you. “What did you just say?” He demands. His intensity has you cowering slightly- your bravado from earlier leaves you. 

“I said “we’re coming”?” You recall, attempting to divert the topic, but Jin steps closer. 

“No you didn’t. You said you love me. And that you want to be my girlfriend.” He accuses. 

“If you knew, why did you ask me?” You grumble. And then your expression softens. “But yes. I did say that. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I know you could have any girl you want and I won’t be mad if you want someone else.” You reassure him quickly. He just stares, offering you no indication of whether he’d processed your words. It’s uncomfortable, but you suppose your words were going to be uncomfortable. You’re changing the very nature of your relationship by voicing them aloud. “But if you were willing... maybe you could give me a chance?” You trail away. 

Still, Jin just continues to look at you blankly. He looks like he’s a robot that just encountered a programming error. Hesitantly, you reach out to tap his shoulder, just to make sure he hasn’t died or suddenly been transformed into stone. 

A hand shoots up. It grabs your wrist, halting its movements. Jin’s eyes bug out of his head. 

“YOU’RE TELLING ME NOW?” He all but screeches. You flinch- you hadn’t anticipated a jant in response to your confession. “YOU HAD THE WHOLE TRIP TO SAY YOUR FEELINGS AND YOU SAY IT NOW? YOU COULDN’T HAVE WAITED ONE DAY?”

His nostrils flare as he releases your wrist so that he can point accusingly at you. 

“You had all your chances! You could have said it on the way to the forest spirit! Or when the Saishtas were chasing us! Or when we landed in the ravine! You’ve had literally the whole trip and you wait until right before I’m going to confess?” He spits out in that rapid-fire way that you’ve never seen another person be able to replicate. 

And then you process his words. 

“Wait-“ you say, hoping to abort the jant so that you have enough time to comprehend what he’s saying. 

It’s no use. 

“Seriously! I had a whole plan, (Y/N)! We were going to go to dinner and I was going to buy you flowers and I was going to ease you into it! But no! You just had to beat me to it, and for what? For what? So that you can make a half-assed confession right before we step into an alley next to a brothel?” He laments. 

“It’s not half-assed-“ you protest, because you’d poured your heart out to Jin. 

He steps in menacingly. 

“Take it back.” He demands. Your eyes widen. 

“What?” You cry, defensively. To your credit, you only cower a little which is an impressive feat for someone on the receiving end of a jant. 

“Your confession! Take it back!” He orders. 

“No!” You argue back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“You are!” Jin counters. “You’re going to take it back and we’re going to do it properly, over dinner, and you’re going to have washed hair and I’m going to-“

You don’t let him finish whatever stupid thoughts were filtering through his brain. If he wants a proper, romantic confession, then he’s going to get one! You hear a sharp intake of breath from him as your lips press to his. They’re slightly chapped after such a long period of rough travel, but the sensation is still pleasant. Your heart thuds in your chest and you feel like you’re about to burst. 

It takes Jin a moment to respond. But when he does, it’s with an intensity that is almost frightening. You’re startled by the way he pulls you close. It’s like the electricity from last night, but multiplied a hundred-fold. If you thought your heart was ready to burst before, it is nothing compared to the way molten lava fills your chest when his hands come up to gently cradle your face and deepen the kiss.

When you finally recall that oxygen is something you need, Jin pulls away and searches your gaze. His hands slide down to your waist, resting delicately along the flare of your hips. His face is bright red but his eyes are determined. 

Something about the way he is looking at you has you feeling shy. 

“That was weird, huh?” You stammer, trying to cover the way you feel so completely overwhelmed. “Sorry.” Your heart is dancing in your chest. It’s all too much for one person to feel and you’re just not really sure what to do with the sensation. Did he feel it too? This weird tension, like you’re a balloon about to pop?

Jin doesn’t break eye contact and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips. 

“Hard to say.” He finally says, breaking his long spell of silence. He then grabs at either side of your face, puckering his lips obnoxiously. “I think we need to try again to be sure.”

You barely have time to protest before he’s attempting to pull you in for a second kiss, although you slap a hand over his mouth to halt his advance. 

“Wait!” You accuse. “You can’t just kiss me and not respond to what I said!” 

“I already told you.” He snaps. “Your confession doesn’t count until we do it properly. Now if you excuse me-“ He grabs you by the elbows and tugs you back towards him, attempting to kiss you once more, but you stop him with a hand pressed to his chest. His expression turns pleading. “Just one more time.” He requests.

You swallow, and gaze into his eyes. It’s not an unfamiliar look, you realise. He’s looked at you like this before, but you now realise what the emotion was behind that look. 

“I love you.” You tell him. “I told you like this because yes. I couldn’t wait one more day. I don’t want to wait another day without you knowing. I love you.” You say one more time, just for good measure. 

His expression crumbles and he sighs in resignation, before pulling you tightly against him. His embrace is warm, and secure. It’s no different from all the other times he’s hugged you in your life, and yet nothing is the same.

“Fine.” He says, into the crook of your neck. “But I’m not saying it back until we have a proper date.” 

He pulls out of the hug and the love in his gaze is overwhelming. It’s not a confession, per se, but his intent is as clear as day. 

He loves you. You know he does.

“Deal.” You say back, and his response is his eyes crinkling up as he offers you that special smile, the one that he only shows when he’s really, truly happy. “But you’re paying.”

“How about we save any important conversations for the side of the portal where we’re not in constant mortal danger?” Jungkook demands, his head once more poking through the portal. There’s an awkward silence as he glances between the two of you, and then he groans. “Seriously? You had the entire journey to sort this out and you waited until now? You couldn’t even just leave it until after dinner?”

“Sorry!” You apologise quickly, going to follow Jungkook’s lead through the portal. But a hand wrapped around your wrist stops you- you hadn’t even noticed Jin had grabbed you. 

You turn to gaze questioningly at him, and he shrugs, shifting his hands until he can interlace his fingers with yours. 

“Wait. Let’s go together.” He requests, then pauses. “Can we?”

Something about this moment feels monumental. Huge. You’ve braved enemy encampments, crossed mountains. You’ve gone free-falling into giant ravines and overcome furious forest spirits. 

And yet this moment feels like the start to your biggest adventure yet. From this point on, real life starts. You smile at Jin and he returns it. 

“Yeah.” You say. “Let’s go together.”

Jin’s reply is covered by Jungkook’s annoyed call through the portal:

“What did I just say? Hurry up!”

                                                             ~Fin~

[taehyungs-perm]

midnight love - ch. 1

collab with @jimins-filter

jimin x reader; superhero au; childhood best friends to lovers au; ceo, billionaire philanthropist, playboy!jimin

genre: angst; lowkey funny; eventual smut

summary: playboy park jimin comes back to seoul city after disappearing for six years; too much has changed, especially you. living out your nights as nyx, seoul city’s dark knight, is a secret you’ve kept for as long as jimin’s disappeared. but what happens when a new hero named eros comes into town just as park jimin shows up at your front door…

word count: 5k

chapter 2

PLAYBOY BILLIONAIRE PARK JIMIN BACK IN SEOUL

You stared at the main headline on the trending page of Twitter, clutching a cup of iced coffee, desperately trying not to crush the plastic cup as you sat on your bed. You didn’t know if you should feel relieved or annoyed that Jimin was back in Seoul. You clicked on the headline and your phone was immediately filled with pictures and videos of strippers, people doing lines of coke, and a wealthy array of booze.

Of course Jimin did this. It was so on brand of him: to go missing for six years and then show up unannounced and throw a giant, extravagant party (at his newly purchased penthouse in downtown Seoul, of course). In the most simplest terms, you were pissed. Even after all these years, you had held out some hope that when he came back the first thing he would do is come see you or call you. But nothing. No text, no call, hell not even a letter. You scoffed at your naivety. You clearly didn’t matter to him.

You rubbed your head in annoyance and threw your phone on the bed, trying to expel any thought of Park Jimin and focus on the case you had pulled up on your laptop. You’ve been working at it for a week now and any and all concentration you had mustered while drinking your 7th cup of coffee went down the drain when you heard a sharp ring from your phone. You picked it up from where you threw it on your bed, the phone screen illuminating your face in the dim light of your room. It was an unknown number. You hesitated for a second. It could be a work-related call, you realize, quickly picking up the call.

“Hello?” you answered, skeptical.

“______?”

What the fuck? How did he get your number? Your mind was racing with thoughts, thoughts that you had long since repressed ever since he left without a word. When you didn’t respond, he repeated your name again. His voice was as silky and calming as it was last time you heard it six years ago.

“Jimin?” you whispered, scared that this was all an illusion, that his voice would just suddenly disappear. 

As much as you wanted to be mad at him, you couldn’t. You really couldn't. He was your kryptonite. From covering for him when he skipped detention to writing his college essays, you would do anything for him. Well, you used to. That was a different time, a different you. Back then, you knew you could depend on Jimin like he depended on you. But that was before he broke your heart and your trust.

“______” he said giggly. He was drunk. Why are you not surprised?

A surge of annoyance went through you.

“Back from the dead?” you asked, dryly

“It sure feels like hell since you're not here. Why didn’t you come?” he whined.

“Where? To the brothel you call a home?” You let out a shaky laugh of disbelief. “ I had work,  Jimin. In case you’ve forgotten, some of us actually have a job.”

“I missed you.” he said in a feather light tone, sending shivers down your spine.

You wanted to believe him, every ounce of your being wanted to believe he meant those words. But you knew Jimin. He was irresponsible, he was a playboy, he was reckless, and most of all, he was a liar.

“Jimin, what do you want?”  you said exasperated.

“I want you. Can you please come over? I just wanna see you. That’s all I want. I don’t want this party and I don’t want anyone in my house except you.”

God, he can spew some bullshit. “I have to work Jimin. I can't come over. I have shit to do” you said coldly.

“Please? I know fucked up ______ I know I did. And I’m sorry. I'm trying to make things right. With us.”

And just like that you were 18 again, falling for his words and his empty promises.

“Jimin..” you said trailing off, unsure of what to do. You offhandedly glanced at your clock, it read 1:25 am. It wasn’t that late. You normally didn’t go to sleep until 3:00 am anyways.

“My driver’s already at your house” he said quickly.

“Fine. But I’m only staying for 20 minutes. Then your driver is going to take me straight back home. Got it?”

“Got it, darling.”

You glanced in the mirror. You were wearing grey sweatpants with an unzipped grey hoodie, revealing your white Calvin Klein bra. Your hair was falling out of the braid you had put it in a few hours ago, with a few strands covering your eyes. You were tempted for a moment to change, maybe wash your face, but then the familiar surge of annoyance came back. You were there to hear whatever bullshit excuse Jimin had, nothing else, nothing more; it didn't matter what you looked like, the last person on earth you had to impress was Jimin.

You slipped on some slides and walked out of your apartment, spotting the black Mercedes on your driveway. You felt a gust of brisk air hit you as you slid into the backseat of the car.

“Ms. ______?” the driver called from the front seat, his eyes meeting yours through the rearview mirror.

“Yes?” you said, shivering from the cold.

“Mr. Park insisted I come here to pick you up, if that’s alright?”

“It’s fine. But this is a short visit. I won't be staying there long.”

The driver nodded and reversed onto the main road. The drive was short. You had just about scrolled through some emails before the driver had parked the car in front of a large black tower. The driver got out of the front seat and opened your door. You stepped out, suddenly feeling very under dressed. He escorted you to the front desk where he whispered something to the concierge.

“He will be taking you up to Mr. Park’s penthouse,” the driver said, presenting the concierge. “I will be waiting out front for whenever you would like to be taken home.”

You nodded and thanked the driver, and then followed the concierge to the last elevator on the right of the lobby. You stepped in and watched as he swiped a card and tapped a few numbers on the keypad of the elevator. High security, you thought.

You watched the number on the screen inside the elevator go from 1 to 69 in a matter of seconds. The doors swiftly opened leading straight into the living room. Your mouth gaped open at the sight. There were girls stumbling around in their stiletto heels drunk, wine glasses and beer cans scattered on the floors, a bra hanging from the chandelier, and too many naked people. You looked back at the concierge who seemed unfazed by the animalistic sight,  standing in the elevator only for a moment before the doors closed behind you.

You carefully made your way through the mess when you heard a familiar voice, “Please put on some clothes mister. There are designated drivers who will take you directly to your residence.”

You whipped your head and saw a completely distraught Namjoon with his hands covering his eyes, talking to a completely naked man.

“Namjoon?” You said incredulously.  It had been a couple of years at least since you last saw him.

“______!” he said, immediately breaking into his familiar dimpled smile. He pulled you in a small hug. “It’s been too long! What are you doing here?”

“Um..Jimin asked me to come.” You admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Oh..” Namjoon knew your history with Jimin, the long complicated story of nothing. “He’s in his bedroom,” Namjoon said, pointing down the long hallway to the left.

You started to make your way to his room but as you walked, the old feelings of butterflies started to creep up. God, stop it. Literally look at this. He’s an idiot, a fuckboy, a full on hot mess. You don’t need this. You don’t need him.

His bedroom door was cracked slightly open, revealing a soft stream of moonlight trailing into the hallway. You pushed the heavy door open as you exhaled all your stupid worries. The room was quiet but you noticed some strewn pieces of clothing on the floor here and there. You saw a corner of the black framed bed but it was covered by large frosted glass panels. You walked over to his bed and saw the one and only Park Jimin. He laid there, his arm covering his eyes and his brown hair all messed up.. He wore a simple dress pant and shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned. His shirt was slightly raised, revealing his defined V line.

“You have a wine stain on your shirt.” you said bluntly, wanting to point out the imperfections on the oh so perfect Park Jimin.

Jimin smirked, lifting his arm from over his eyes. He looked at you lazily, his eyes slowly raking up and down your body.  

“Nice to see you too beautiful,” he said sleepily.

“I’m here, Jimin,” you sighed, crossing your arms. You shifted to the side, looking at him exasperatedly. “What do you want?””

“Just wanted to see you,” He mumbled, tucking the escaped strands of hair behind your ear. Jimin leaned forward, balancing on his elbows, and whispered in your ear, “I missed you.”

You fought back a blush and pulled away. “No shit, you’ve been gone for 6 years.”

“I didn’t mean to be gone for that long, it just happened.”

“You could’ve called or texted.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything’s always complicated with you, Jimin,”

“C’mon darling, I’m here now,” Jimin said sweetly, trying to reel you back.

“You didn’t even fucking call me when you came into town. I found out through twitter!”

“Well, I called you now,” Jimin teased, sitting up on the bed, about to grab your arm.

You softly shook your head before walking towards his sleek black dresser and pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“You should change,” you said, throwing the clothes at Jimin who caught them with ease. You turned around, your back toward him to give him some privacy. You faced the floor to ceiling windows that took up one part of his room, overlooking downtown Seoul. The lights of the city twinkled with wonder and the cool gray fog covered it with secrets.

You suddenly felt a body press against your back. Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist and he leaned his head in the crook of your shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and forget about everything. But that could never happen. You turned around, trying to get him away from you before you did something stupid like kiss him. God, you couldn’t think around him.

Jimin obediently pulled away, stepping back so that the two of you were now facing each other. You saw that Jimin decided to forego a shirt, allowing you to get a better view of his sculpted abs. Your eyes immediately caught his tattoo that definitely was not there before: NEVERMIND written in all caps in a scraggly font. There were various scars littering his chest, some of them even looked fresh. What in the hell was he doing in the time that he was gone?

His voice came out genuine but you could hear a tinge of desperation that you hadn’t recognized before, “I meant it, you know?”

“Jimin,” you sighed. You looked up to meet his brown eyes. He looked at you anxiously, craving your forgiveness. “I don’t think you missed me. I think you missed your life.”

“I’m being serious ______. I really fucking miss you. I thought about you everyday,” he continued, trying to convince you.  

“Maybe I would believe you, but there’s four naked girls in your living room right now. Your actions beg to differ.” You grabbed your phone that you left on his dresser and walked to the entrance of his room . Just as you were about to close the door, you turned around to look at him. “You haven’t changed one bit, Park Jimin.”

☙

You slipped off your slides as you re-entered your apartment, the sound of silence overwhelming you. Everything about him was running through your mind as you laid down on your bed, trying to process what had just happened. The scars on his body, the tattoos, his eyes: it was everything about him changed but nothing really had. He still had the same charming smile and idiotic behavior. You tried to close your eyes and finally get some sleep but you were still unsettled from the whole interaction with Jimin. Deciding operation sleep was a no go, you got up from your soft pillows and stretched your body. You knew only one thing would put all of this nervous energy to use: patrolling the city. 

You stepped into your closet and pulled out your suit: black cargo pants with a fitted athletic black tank top tucked in. Underneath your top, you wore a sleeveless blue turtleneck which doubled as a mask. You felt yourself fall into the familiar routine of suiting up, lacing up your boots and pulling your hair into a ponytail. You remember being so nervous the first few times you went patrolling, whether it was for your life or fear of failure, you can’t be sure. But now, you felt calm and relaxed. Even though you could never guess what new dangers would emerge from the depths of the city, you knew the citizens of Seoul could always rely on you. And at the end of the day, that’s what made you truly happy: helping others. It’s why you became a lawyer and it’s also why you donned the identity of Nyx.

Dipping your fingers in a pot of black face paint, you drew a crescent moon facing up on your forehead. You quickly put on your black gloves and pulled up the blue neck of your shirt so it covered your mouth and nose.  You stared at yourself in the mirror and didn’t recognize yourself; you only saw the beloved dark knight of Seoul city: Nyx. Grabbing your two daggers that were sheathed in black leather, you climbed out of your bedroom window. The only benefit of living in an apartment without a balcony was that right next to your window was the fire escape stairs, leading directly to the roof of your building. 

You peered down at Seoul, not seeing the beauty you had just seen from Jimin’s penthouse window, but rather witnessing the darkness and destruction that was slowly consuming the city. Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw the distinct crescent moon symbol that was flipped to form a “U" flash into the dark sky, the symbol of Nyx. It was coming from the Seoul City Police Department and you knew exactly who had signaled it.

You grabbed the nylon rope tucked into your pocket and pulled out a small metal tin. You clicked a button on the side of the tin, transforming it into a grappling hook. After securing the hook on the roof ledge, you rappelled down the building, safely landing on the ground. Tucking the rope and hook into your pockets, you made your way to the building’s garage where your beloved motorcycle was waiting for you.

You hopped on the bike and drove for what seemed like 10 minutes before arriving in front of the police department. You made use of your rope and grappling hook again, as you scaled the building to get to the roof. There, you saw a man with his back towards you wearing a long, black trench coat. 

“Detective Kim,” you called to the man, standing anxiously by the large spotlight with the Nyx symbol plastered on it. 

“Nyx,” he said whipping his head in the direction of your voice, “Good to see you. It’s been awhile.” 

It had been awhile. Detective Kim Seokjin had been only a small-time detective at the SCPD when you first started out. After realizing you both had the same goals and wishes for this city, you and Detective Kim decided to work together, confiding each other in your missions and reports on crime. 

You nodded, “Seoul has been quiet. Too quiet.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it means I’m missing something.”

“Missing what?”

“I’m not sure yet. And that’s what makes me afraid.”

“Never thought I would hear those words from the hero of Seoul.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just doing what I can.”

“The people of Seoul love you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed, but I don’t want them to depend on me.”

“Why? Planning a vacation?” he said teasingly.

“Maybe. This really isn't my day job. Can’t be Nyx all the time.” you said, smiling.

“Anyways, I wanted to update you on something that’s been going on. We’ve kept it out of the news so far but with how things are going, I have a feeling that this will make headlines soon. People at the office wanted to take care of it ourselves but I can’t stand by any longer. We need your help.” Detective Kim said handing you a tan file folder. 

You rifled through the file as he continued to speak, “There have been 2 robberies at the two major banks, Bank of Seoul and Seoul Holdings Inc.”

“When did they happen?”

“Bank of Seoul was yesterday afternoon and Seoul Holdings was two days before.”

“Any leads?”

“We think it might be mob related.”

You looked up from the papers to meet Jin’s concerned eyes, “We cleaned up the mob.”

“Maybe they resurfaced, or maybe this is something entirely new we are dealing with.”

“Any idea of where they’re going to hit next?”

“We think Seoul United.”

“Have a unit there at all times. Make sure they keep track of who is coming in and out. Based on these two robberies, the next one is going to happen soon.”

“Got it. I’ll form a team and get them down there as soon as possible.” 

You had reached the end of file when a small business card slipped out and fell to the ground. You knelt down and picked it up, flipping to the front of the card, expecting to see the business card of one of the banks. But it was just a blank card with a demented looking smiley face drawn in blood red ink.

“What’s this?”

“Right. I almost forgot. We found that in the empty bank vault at the Bank of Seoul.”

“Did you have labs run an analysis on this?”

“Yep. They found nothing. No fingerprints, no trace of anything on the card. Completely blank.”

“What about the ink?”

“It’s ink. Not blood.”

“Find out what exact ink this is. Maybe it can give us a lead on something.”

Jin nodded as you handed the file back to him. You grabbed onto your grappling hook. But before you slipped back into the darkness you called out to him, “Keep me posted.”

☙

Waking up was too hard. You were far from a morning person, hitting snooze on your phone alarm until the last possible minute. Between seeing Jimin and meeting Detective Kim, you got a total of four hours of sleep, which was not nearly enough for your strenuous schedule. After hitting snooze for the fourth time, you had to scramble to get ready. You quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face, and combed your hair before changing into a black pantsuit. Slipping your laptop into your leather messenger bag, you blindly grabbed for your keys as you headed out the door, almost stumbling in your black heels. 

You made it to your office just in time, but because of your tardiness in the morning, you weren’t able to get any caffeine. You sighed, blowing the escaped strands of hair from out of your face, you knew it was going to be a long day. You opened your office door and saw your long time best friend sitting at her desk, opposite of yours. 

“Hey ______! Rough morning?” she said, chuckling at your state.

“Hey Sana,” you replied, giving her a quick hug. “ More like a rough night.”

“Who’s the lucky guy? I saw that Park Jimin is back in town,” she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Don’t even get me fucking started. “ You said groaning as you sat down at your desk.

“You went to his party?” she said shocked. “You know, I’m still offended he didn’t invite me. And after all we went through in college. I wrote so many essays for that punk—” 

“I didn’t want to go. He called me. Drunk off his ass.”

“Oh my god, really?” Sana said, pausing her rant about how ungrateful Jimin was and opted to lean forward in her seat to her what you had to say.

“Yeah and he asked me to come over.”

“So did you?”

“I did.”

“______!” She gasped at your actions.

“It’s complicated. But I went over and saw him.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing. Or well he wanted to talk to me. See me I guess. He apologized.”

“For what? For leaving and not telling you? For breaking your hea—”

“For leaving Sana. He apologized for being gone for six years and for not calling me once.”

“What, he just said sorry and expected you to forgive him?” 

“Yeah I guess,” you said shrugging.

“Men are so fucking stupid.”

‘Tell me about it. Anyways, then I ended up meeting Detective Kim. Well, Nyx did.”

“Damn, you had a long night. What did he say?”

“He said there's been a couple of robberies, one at Bank of Seoul and the other at Seoul Holdings. They think Seoul United is next.”

“What's the plan?”

“He’s gonna set up a unit there to keep watch 24/7.”

“And what's our plan?”

You smiled at her words, “I was hoping Team Nyx could help me out.”

☙

After a long day at the office and figuring out a plan for the bank robberies, you were completely drained and wanted to do nothing except curl up in your bed and watch Netflix. You got home, kicked off your heels, dropped your messenger bag to the ground, and started to walk to your bedroom, thinking about which episode of New Girl you were going to watch. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, interrupting your train of thought. You wondered who would show up at your place unannounced at this time. You looked through the peephole of your door to see none other than Park Jimin holding a bouquet of roses. You stepped back from the door exasperated. You thought you had been clear of your hatred for him the other night.

You felt your heart beating slightly faster. Stop it, you chided yourself. It was evident from the other night that Jimin was still the same: a player and a liar. There was no place in your already busy life for someone as reckless as Jimin; you needed to focus and Jimin was an unnecessary distraction. 

You opened the door to Jimin, his hair tousled from the wind. He was wearing a black blazer, with a black shirt tucked into a pair of, you guessed it, black jeans.

“Hi,” was all he said, standing in your doorway and giving his signature smile.

“What are you doing here Jimin?” you said, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“I just wanted to explain myself again. Our talk last night didn’t go as I hoped.”

“And what exactly were you hoping for?” you snarkily.

“Forgiveness?” his wide eyes locked onto yours. 

“Jimin...”  you started to trail off. 

“I’m sorry ______. I told you, I wanted to call you but I just couldn’t.” 

“That’s such bullshit,” you started to close the door but Jimin caught it, pushing it aside to step into your apartment. He closed the door behind him, and he glanced around your apartment, taking in the place before looking back at you.

“______ please, trust me. If I could have called you even for one second just to hear your voice, I would have.” 

You looked into his eyes and saw his sincerity. You didn’t know what to think. You wanted to believe him so badly.

“I—” you started to say but Jimin cut you off.

“I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, you know that,” Jimin said looking at you intensely. “Can you please forgive me?”

You didn’t want to fight with Jimin anymore. As much as you hated him for what he did, you missed your best friend. And deep down, you knew he was right, that he would never hurt you.

You let out a deep sigh, “Okay Jimin, I forgive you.”

Jimin once again gives his charming smile. He looked like he was about to hug you but refrained himself from doing so. Instead, he handed you the bouquet of roses he had been holding, “For you.”

You were so caught up in your fight with Jimin that you didn’t register the peculiar color of the roses until he handed them to you. They were black roses. The color was as dark as the night sky. You looked at Jimin then back to the flowers. There was no way he would have known right? There were only two people who knew that you were Nyx. Jimin just came back from Seoul so he couldn't possibly know.

“Why black?” you asked carefully, studying his expression and body language for any clues that suggested he knew of your secret identity.

Jimin just shrugged in response. “It’s your favorite color.”

“You still remember?” you asked incredulously, shaking your head.

“You’re a hard person to forget,” Jimin said quietly. He took a step closer to you and you suddenly registered the nonexistent distance between the two of you. You felt his hot breath fanning your face and you felt like your heart was pounding so hard he could feel it. Jimin tilted your chin up so that you were forced to look at him, staring into his brown eyes. You shivered at the contact of his cold fingers against your skin. He looked at your lips before looking back at your wide eyes, silently asking for your permission. 

“I can’t,” you whispered apologetically, trying to push his hand away.

Jimin caught your hands, his metal rings pressing into your hands, as he tried to catch your gaze, “Why not?”

You finally meet his eyes looking at you imploringly, waiting for an answer. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you choked out, knowing those exact words would be like venom to him. 

Jimin immediately let go of your hands at that moment. His expression hardened and he clenched his jaw: his telltale sign of anger. He walked away from you to sit on the navy blue sofa in your living room, spreading his legs as he sat down.

“I see,” he said coldly. 

“You can’t be mad at me. That’s not fair.” You said irritated, turning around to look at him.

“I never said I was mad,” he said, staring at the wooden flooring, not meeting your eyes.

“Jimin, you left. You left for six years and you didn’t tell me. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you?”

“I just—” Jimin ran his fingers through his hair with frustration before letting his face rest in his hands. “I just thought things would be the same when I came back.” He said helplessly.

“Well, you thought wrong.” you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest, looking away. 

Jimin was quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I’m happy for you. Really. I would love to meet him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You scoffed.

“C’mon, we should try to move forward. At least be friends again.”

“Jimin, I just need some time. You can’t just show up in my life unexpectedly and expect everything to be the same. It doesn’t work that way.” You sighed. You opened the door for him, a silent indicator that he should leave. Jimin glanced at the door and your tired expression. 

He got up from where he was sitting and made his way towards the door,  “I understand ______. But know that I’m here for you. Anytime. I just want you back in my life again.”

He looked at you one more time before heading out, leaving you at the doorway as you clutched the black roses. You watched from the window as he got into his car, ignoring how the crushed petals slowly fluttered to the ground.

authors’ note: guysss this is @jimins-filter first posted fic (ah!). so there might be a few things that are a bit confusing in text but if you wanna see references as to how we came up with nyx’s character, Elektra’s costume and fighting style from Daredevil (the Netflix TV show) was a major inspo for Nyx, additionally we did take some style inspo (the crescent moon symbol on the forehead) from the Painted Lady from ATLA. We are super excited for this fic and hope you guys will love it. This is VERY different from strawberry girl so this is something different for me as well. give a follow to @jimins-filter her blog is aesthetic af. ty for reading and let us know what you think so far! 💜💜

[mypoisonedvine]

Double-Edged Sword: Capt. Syverson x Reader (Chapter 1)

[I decided to ignore my WIPs and my URL and write something for Syverson because he is just…. a beautiful, meaty man and he deserves some more love.

To those of you who follow me for Witcher stuff only, I promise we will return shortly to the regularly scheduled programming.  As for the rest of us who are thirsty for Cavill in any context… enjoy!]

Summary: As a Major in the Marine Corps, you work with other units and branches relatively often.  That said, you had never really had to ask another unit for help before, so you felt pretty awkward when a mission required you to travel to a nearby Army camp and take shelter with them for the next two months.  Of course, their smack-talking, free-wheeling Captain isn’t going to make it any easier on you, either.

Word Count: 5k (oh jesus christ)

Rating: E

(warning for dub con and people being sexist assholes, cause yknow, it’s the military.  contains lots of angst and bickering and arguing, and of course, smut.)

“Listen, I’m not going to stand here and pretend I’m Ms. Popular,” you sighed, “but hopefully you all can appreciate that I look out for all of you.”

No one said anything, because they were standing at attention at their cots.

“At ease,” you added, and they all relaxed a bit, “but keep quiet so I can finish.”

A few sat on their beds but most still seemed to be paying attention.

“When it’s just us Marines, I don’t mind much whatever you call me when I’m not around.  Or when I’m around.  But once we get where we’re going tomorrow, we’re shacking up with the Army.  And as much as I want everyone to get along, I’m not sure how likely that is.  Anyways, what I’m trying to say is… right now it may be me versus you, but soon it’s going to be us versus them, Marines versus Army.  And us Marines need to stick together.  Does that make sense?”

There were a few nods, but you weren’t sure they were getting it.

“Alright, allow me to be a bit more literal.  Don’t tell the other soldiers that I’m a bitch,” you requested.  There were some scattered chuckles.  “I know it probably seems fine since you say it to each other but I need you guys to help me get their respect.  I’m not saying to go in there and tell every Army nimrod that I’m everybody’s favorite officer.  Just… don’t let them see any cracks they could exploit.  Because I have to start ordering these guys around and I’m already batting a thousand.”

“Seems reasonable,” Private Cole replied, and most of the others agreed.  You smiled and left them alone to have a somewhat relaxing night before they had to ship out.

“I don’t want this to be Marines versus Army,” you told Captain Syverson the next day when you met with him for the first time.  Of course, that was what you had told your own unit would happen, but he didn’t know that.  “I’m sure you know that this is an officer versus enlisted issue.  And us officers should stick together.”

He was smiling back at you from across the table, but it didn’t seem that friendly.  

“I don’t see why there’s any ‘versus’ at all.  You and your unit are guests here.  We get this project over with and you’re out,” he shrugged.  

“Maybe you haven’t had much issue getting control of your soldiers.  But it took me a while to get mine to trust me, and now I have to go in blind and command your unit.  So I hope you’re on my side,” you explained.

He went from smiling in an unhappy way, to laughing in an unfunny way.  You regretted the way you had approached this conversation.

“Sounds like you’re not a good leader, if it was so much trouble for you,” he scoffed. “Maybe you should work on that.”

You didn’t get angry very often, but this was the closest you’d been in a while.  You understood his distrust, even a little duplicity was merited.  To just outright insult you to your face was, of course, hurtful, but mainly just stupid.  You’d always known Army guys were total morons, but this was just ridiculous.  What could he gain from going against you?

“How many years until you get promoted?” you asked him suddenly, standing up from your chair.

“About two and a half,” he responded.

“Well, if in two and a half years we’re both still alive, and I’m not already a lieutenant colonel, call me and we’ll talk about who’s in charge.  Until then, back off,” you huffed, and turned to walk away.  You yelped when he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back.

“You’re on my base,” he reminded you sternly.

“And we’ll try to be respectful while we’re here, regardless of how we’re being treated,” you grimaced, wrenching your arm out of his grasp.

“You’ll try to be respectful?  On my base?!  How generous,“ he scoffed.  "You can’t just show up and start running things.”

“I have no desire to micromanage your little sandhut, Captain.  I don’t give half a fuck what goes on in here.  What I do have is the final call on any decision made in this mission,” you explained.

“On whose authority?” he pressed.  You laughed.

“Cap, somewhere in your desk there’s a little piece of paper– it’s got a lot of pretty gold and silver stars on it– and it explains how commanding authority is ranked in every branch of the United States military.  Feel free to go and check me on this, but I’m pretty sure that ‘Captain’ is here,” you motioned in the air, “and ‘Major’ is here,” you moved your hand up an inch.

“Well, sweetheart, there’s a sign outside the front of this base that says ‘Army’ on it, and a little sticker on your chest,” he poked it, and you couldn’t decide if you hated the physical contact or the deriding pet name more, “that says USMC.”

“Rank is rank,” you argued.

“So if you’ve got a doctorate in physics and I’ve got a master’s in English, you have the right to lecture me about fuckin’ Grapes of Wrath or whatever?”

“My doctorate is in American History,” you frowned. He laughed in frustration.

“Only a Jarhead could miss the point that hard,” he groaned, “and find a way to brag in the process.”

“Call your superior,” you growled, “who is notably a Major, and ask him who has authority on this base while we’re here.”

You stormed out before you could hear his reply.

~

When the time came, the two of you discussed how you would approach the mission behind closed doors.  Not like it was fun or anything, but you managed to stay off each other’s throats for a while and agree on a few things.  It was nice enough that you actually let your guard down, so much so that you were totally blindsided when he waited until you were in front of the entire company to disagree with you.

“That’ll never work,” he suddenly interrupted as you explained the plan, “we’ll divide and conquer.”

You looked at him with confusion.

“That’s not what we discussed before,” you reminded him.

“I changed my mind,” he shrugged.

“Well, I didn’t.  So we’ll do it my way.”

“My men, my rules,” he growled, stepping closer to you.

“Half these people,” you corrected, since a few of your unit were women, “are mine, and you’re below me.”

“Fuck you,” he said casually, smiling while he did it.

“You couldn’t handle it,” you spat back.

A few of the enlisted ‘ooooh’ed but for the most part it was very, very quiet.

Finally, Captain Syverson silently turned on his heel and walked away, looking exasperated.

“Looks like the Captain is going to take a little break,” you smiled with fake enthusiasm, turning back to the company, “and I’ll keep explaining this mission to you all.”

“If Captain Syverson doesn’t approve it, we’re not doing it,” one of the Army kids announced.  Your Marines were notably silent, but the rest of the Captain’s unit nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got a word for you, boys.  It starts with ‘N’ and ends with ‘subordination,’” you frowned.  They all groaned.

“It’s not insubordination because you’re not in charge of us!”

“Manage your own people, Jarhead!”

You uncrossed your arms and let your voice get a little louder.  “Hey, hey, settle down!” 

It mostly worked, but everyone seemed pretty displeased.

“Captain Syverson and I had a discussion with our superiors and it was concluded that I am highest ranking and I get the final call on every tactical decision,” you explained.

“That’s not what he told us,” one of the Army boys chuckled.

You tried not to seethe in front of them, you tried to keep it professional, but how were you supposed to work in these conditions?

“As you were,” you resigned through your teeth, storming off to where the Captain had gone.  You found him in his quarters, relaxing on a sofa; you nearly kicked the door in to talk to him.

“What the fuck was that?!” you exclaimed.

“I changed my mind,” he repeated calmly.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you growled, shoving him where he sat.  He stood up, clearly agitated.

“Get your hands off me, lady.”

“Major,” you corrected through your teeth.

“Only Major you are to me is a major waste of my fucking time,” he replied.

“Take it up with the Department of Defense, they’re the ones who gave me the title,” you defended.

“You know, lately I’ve been having issues with a lot of their decisions.  I’m still trying to figure out why the fuck we’re doing this anyways.”

“The mission?” you asked.

“The war,” he corrected.

“Ah,” you nodded, looking around nervously.  You were more comfortable with the arguing than the awkward silence. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed, crossing his arms and slumping his shoulders.

“Go tell your unit the plan- our plan.  Better yet, tell them they answer to me,” you demanded.

“I couldn’t have made it any more obvious that I’m not gonna do what you tell me,” he frowned, crossing his arms.

“Will you at least cooperate with me enough to get this mission over with?” 

He thought about that for a minute, and you tried not to lose your patience.

“Hmm… no,” he decided finally.

“Then will you shut the fuck up and stay out of my way?” you suggested instead.

He stepped up to you until he was uncomfortably close, and you had to crane your neck to meet his gaze.  He had these really bright blue eyes and they didn’t fit with the rest of his face, which was significantly angrier and grittier.

“Not a chance,” he answered.  But his voice had lost the intimidating tone, and his expression had changed at some point without you noticing… he looked sort of calm, considering the situation, and you realized that he was examining your face.

“You know,” he said suddenly, “you’d be pretty if you weren’t so…” he trailed off.

“Mean?” you finished, having heard this sort of comment more than a few times.

“No, it’s not that.  The mean thing is sorta hot,” he corrected casually as if it were nothing to say.  You bit your lip and broke the eye contact, trying not to blush.  It was a good thing you didn’t find him attractive- because of course you didn’t, him being this dirty brute and all- but still, it was uncomfortable.

“You’d be pretty,” he decided, “if you weren’t a Marine.”

You laughed and shook your head incredulously.

“Yeah, well, maybe you’d be pretty if you shaved that raccoon off your face,” you suggested, “and took a shower.”

You smiled as you left the room.

~

You delayed the mission briefing a day, to give you and the Captain more time to hopefully come to some decision, and you hoped it wouldn’t mean you and your unit had to stay at this camp even just one day longer.  You met with your Marines privately, and they were sympathetic but seemed to be getting along with the other soldiers enough to sympathize with their unwillingness to cooperate.  One soldier said he would only listen to you and not ‘Sy’ as they called him, but you told them to always listen to their commanding officer even if he’s a complete tool.

You were walking back to your quarters for the night when you passed by an open tent, a half-dozen Army boys inside playing cards.

“Hey Major, what size bra do you wear?” a soldier hollered at you, and the others snickered.

“I think they’re bigger than they look in that uniform,” another added.  “Double ‘D’s, at least.”

You stopped and decided to address them, unable to let a comment like that go.

“Oh I’ve got double ‘D’s alright,” you smirked.  “Dishonorable Discharge.”

“Aw, we’re just messing around,” the first dismissed with a frown. “Can’t you take a joke?”

“I can take a joke, but I can take your job, too.  Maybe stay on my good side.”  You winked, just to keep it playful, but you were really screwed either way.  You’d tried playing along with jokes before and all it did was make you seem like some creep and/or slut who liked getting hit on (was this even what that was?) by subordinates.  But getting stern didn’t seem to make you any friends, either.  That’s why you were so comfortable with not having any friends.

“Your good side?  You mean from the back?” one of them murmured, and you wondered if he was trying to be just loud enough for you to hear, or just quiet enough for you not to. 

“Dude, she’s probably a dyke anyway,” Private Lipowitz responded.

“Am I supposed to find that insulting?” you asked him.  He smirked, as did the others, as if it was obvious that you should, but nobody said anything.  “Maybe I am a dyke.  And maybe I could give your girl back home more pleasure in five minutes than you’ve given any woman in your whole life combined, eh Lipowitz?”

“You better not talk about my girl, Major,” he challenged, standing up and puffing up his chest.  “I know you’re not supposed to hit chicks or anything, but seriously, I’ll take out anybody who talks about my girl.”  You decided not to point out that you’re not supposed to hit your commanding officer, ‘chick’ or otherwise.

“Then you better start with your boys first,” you responded, motioning to a few of the other soldiers, “because word on the street is they found those saucy little pictures she sent you.”

Lipowitz turned to the other men with wide eyes, and suddenly you were the only one smiling.  Enlisted seem to talk so much more and so much louder than they realize.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, dashing to his pack, presumably searching for those photos.  When he didn’t find them, he stood up and pushed Private Mason back by the shoulders.

“Where are those fucking pictures, dude?”

“I don’t have ‘em, I swear,” Mason defended, but all the other guys were laughing.

“Seriously, guys, whoever has them, just give them back!”

“You’re not going to want them back in the state they’re in,” another finally admitted, “trust me.”

They all burst into laughter as Lipowitz went on a rampage, yelling and kicking and threatening to beat up the other guys.  You took the commotion as a good opportunity to sneak away mostly unnoticed and get back to your quarters for the night.

You weren’t there very long before you decided to spend some time in your temporary office instead.  You had taken your hair out of the tight regulation bun, intending to change into pajamas and go to sleep, but you remembered some paperwork that needed to be done by tomorrow night and decided to make some progress on it, since the Captain got in the way of your productivity during the day.

Of course, you weren’t an hour into it when he knocked on your door, though you didn’t know it was him until you told him to come in without looking up from your files.

He entered but stopped and didn’t say anything.

“Can I help you?” you asked eventually.

“You look different with your hair down,” he observed, and you looked back at him with a confused expression.

“Yes, I’d figure so,” you replied.

“You sleep in your uniform?” he asked, noticing that you were still in your fatigues, though you’d shed the camo long sleeve and just had on the green undershirt.

“Do I look like I’m sleeping?” you asked incredulously, looking back to your papers.  He snorted but didn’t say anything.  "Besides, I don’t think you’re ever in uniform.“

"Not when I don’t have to be,” he shrugged.  “I’m not sure why you wear it when you don’t have to.”

“I barely get taken seriously with it on, so it’s the least I can do,” you explained.

“About that…” he began, and you looked up in surprise. “I’m sorry they give you such a hard time.”

“Oh, I see,” you nodded, getting up from your chair to put some papers in your filing cabinet, “you talked to them and heard some of the awful shit they call me.”

He didn’t say anything.

“Well, you only have yourself to blame for that.  You had plenty of chances to instill respect for authority but you decided it would be more fun, I suppose, to go rogue and turn everyone against me,” you bit back with sarcastic cheeriness.

“Shit, I’m actually trying to be nice to you, and you’re still impossible.  You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” he nearly yelled.  You felt like the word ‘brat’ specifically targeted the fact that you were younger than him, which you didn’t appreciate at all- you would rather be judged on your merits, even if the judgment was poor, than be treated differently just because you were young.

“I’m in charge of you,” you corrected, “and you’re refusing to listen to me.  So, if anything, you’re the brat.”

“What I would give to put you in your place right now,” he growled to himself.

“Oh, my place? And what place is that?”

“Bent over my desk and getting your brains fucked out,” he answered with a deep voice.  

A lot of guys probably fantasized about rough sex (or worse) as a means of revenge against you for all those extra push-ups and boot camp humiliations– a few had even made comments about it, though most hadn’t realized you could hear them at the time.  You’d learned quickly how to not let that stuff get to you.  But this got to you… and not in the way you prepared for.  Your face burned and your gut sank and your insides throbbed, as if out of nowhere.

“I figured you liked your women without brains,” you quipped in reply, trying not to show any signs of weakness.  

He dashed to close the space between you, pressing you back against the wall.  He was so big, and he smelled like sweat and beer and pine.  You were surprised, and confused, but you didn’t worry that he would hurt you, for some reason.

“Seems I like my women with a mouth on ‘em, because every time you make some little comment like that, I swear I get harder than steel.”

He pushed his hips into you and yep, there it was.  Your breaths began to stutter but you didn’t want him to see how much this affected you.

“Just wish you put that mouth to better use,” he added with a devilish grin.

“You’d better get back,” you threatened, without actually mentioning any potential consequences.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me,” he purred, and leaned down to speak against your ear.  “You’ve thought about it, haven’t you?  I can tell you’re getting turned on when we argue, too.”

“You’re confusing arousal with irritation, Captain.”

“Mmm, I like when you call me that.  I assume the intention is condescending, cause you just have to remind me that you outrank me, but I like it anyway,” he presumed.

“It’s the proper way to address another soldier, nothing condescending about it.  You know, I actually don’t have any problem with your rank.  Or your branch.  My problem is with your personality,” you corrected.

“That’s fair.  I have a big personality,” he smirked, and pressed his erection harder against you… it felt pretty big but you couldn’t get a good impression through your fatigues.

“Well, that might explain your ego,” you murmured.

“Just tell me you don’t want it and I’ll leave you be, we’ll go back to bickering an’ shit,” he offered.  “Just look at me,” he prompted, putting a finger under your chin and guiding you to look up at him, “and tell me you don’t want it.”

As you met his gaze, you let yourself really get a closer look than you had before.  It had always been obvious that he was good-looking, but right now he looked oddly gentle considering the circumstances.  The look in his eyes lacked the confidence you were expecting… as if he really didn’t know if you wanted him or not.  As if he really wanted you to want him.  As if he really wanted you.  And it had been a long time since someone had looked at you like that.

“Fuck it,” you growled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss.  His beard rubbed against your face but it wasn’t as scratchy as you’d imagined- not that you had imagined this or anything.  

He inhaled through his nose and stepped back, pulling you with him and putting a hand on your hair and the other on your hip. 

“Looks like you’ll have to settle for bending me over my desk,” you mumbled against his lips.

“Not gonna bend you over anything yet,” he replied, putting his hands on your butt and lifting you up until you were straddling him in the air.

He walked with you wrapped around him until he could set you down on the desk, and his hands felt so damn big on the small of your waist.

He pulled back so he could pull your shirt over your head, and he took off his own while you slipped off your sports bra.  You both took a moment to stare at each other’s toplessness, a silent acknowledgement that you’d both been wondering about the other’s body.  You ran your hands up and down his chest, and he just looked at you while you did it with a difficult-to-read expression.  Of course you were familiar with muscle, you saw shirtless soldiers all the time and they were all in great shape, but this guy was just enormous.  His shoulders dwarfed you and with him so close you felt uncharacteristically small.

He didn’t say anything as he pulled you into another kiss, and this one was a bit gentler than the last.  You felt giddy and nervous and so desperate for him; you couldn’t remember the last time you felt like this, honestly.

His hands trailed down your back and you slid off the desk until you were standing.  He spun you around and pushed you down between your shoulder blades until you were face down on the desk, the cold wood making your skin break out in goosebumps.

He reached around your hips to open your button and fly, pushing your pants and underwear down to your knees.  You gasped a bit when you felt the air hit your skin.

“Oh shit, you’re wet already,” he noticed.  “Really wet.”

His fingers slipped through your folds and you tried to spread your legs but the pants got in the way.

“Just fuck me,” you demanded.

“All you know how to do is give orders, huh?” he laughed.

“This might be my first order you actually follow,” you considered, hearing him unzip the fly of his jeans.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he explained, “it’s an all-male unit, after all.”

Internally, you wanted to point out that being in an all-male unit doesn’t stop plenty of soldiers from getting it on, and that he shouldn’t be hooking up with anyone in his unit regardless of gender, but you realized this was not the time for explaining rules.

“Don’t need them,” you replied, “as long as you promise you don’t have anything I can catch.”

“You’re being so reckless,” he teased as his hands ran along your back and grabbed your ass, “it’s so unlike you.  What happened to that stubborn little rule-follower, hm?”

“She got really fucking horny,” you growled, “now get inside me, damn it.”

And without much warning, without any preparation, he slammed himself into you all at once.

“Oh fuck!” you cried out, much louder than you meant to.  He was big, really fucking big, and your walls struggled to fit him.  He didn’t slow down though, instantly setting a fast and brutal pace.

“Not so loud, sweetheart.  Not that I don’t love you screamin’ for me.  But if the other guys found out we were doing this…” he trailed off.  “Actually, I bet I’d be the most popular officer at camp if they knew we were doin’ this.”

“You already are,” you pointed out, struggling to focus on forming sentences. “And we’d both get in a lot of trouble– ah, god– if anybody reported it.”

“You’re right.  Better keep you quiet, then,” he sighed, leaning forward and stuffing two fingers into your mouth.  Your moans became sputters and chokes yet you eagerly sucked on his fingers and took them all the way down your throat.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he growled.  “If you’d deepthroated my fingers like that when we first met, I bet we’d have gotten along a lot better.”

That’s not really the way I do business, you wanted to respond, but you couldn’t say much when you were busy with the task at hand.

His fingers pulled out and you felt his hands wrap around your elbows.   He grabbed your arms and held them back as he slammed into you so hard that the desk scraped across the floor with every movement.

“So tight,” he observed.  “Bet no one’s done this to you in a long time. Bet what you always needed was a good fuck to loosen you up– literally.”

He landed a hard slap against your ass and you moaned.

“Oh, you like that?  You like it when I hit you?”

“Yes,” you answered through bared teeth.

“Dirty little slut,” he said, but the way he said it sounded more like a compliment than an insult.

He spanked you again, just a bit harder, and you yelped but found yourself pushing your hips into him and arching your back as an invitation for more.  He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer, pressing as deep inside you as was physically possible and grinding against you.  You sobbed and he grabbed you by the hair, pulling you up until his chest was against your back.

“Anybody ever been this deep inside you before?” he asked, his lips right against your ear.

“No,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck down to your shoulder.  You weren’t sure how to feel about him calling you ‘baby.’

He let go of your hair but kept you close to him by wrapping his arms around you as he started to thrust again.  It was oddly intimate, and your head fell back onto his shoulder as you moaned and sighed and whimpered.

Calloused hands began to grab at your breasts, teasing and pinching your nipples; you hadn’t realized how sensitive you were there, because it sent sensation shooting straight down to your inner walls.

“I’m close,” you gritted out.

“That was quick.  You’re easy to please,” he replied, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Just don’t stop,” you pleaded.  He pushed you back down onto the desk and began to pick up the pace.

“Oh, I won’t stop, I promise you that.” His voice sounded different than normal- deeper and scratchier and oddly weak in a way.  You liked the idea that this had such an effect on him.

His thrusts slammed into you so hard and fast that you were sure you’d have bruises from it, and probably on your thighs where they were hitting the edge of the desk.  For some reason, that thought was what sent you over the edge.

“Ca-captain!” you cried out as you came, and he growled a bit against your ear.  You figured he thought you were calling him that as some sort of sexy nickname, a flash of authority, but it’s just the only thing you could think to call him, the only thing you’d ever really called him.  

He, on the other hand, responded with your first name, even though you’d never gone by it and never even told it to him, mixed in with his grunts and moans as he pulled out and came all over your back.  

It was strange to go from so much noise– skin hitting skin, moans and yelps, the desk screeching on the concrete floor– to just heavy breathing and the sound of the ceiling fan spinning above you.  Or maybe it was you that was spinning; you felt sort of dizzy and numb.

He leaned away from you until you couldn’t feel his touch anywhere, and you heard him zip up his jeans.  You awkwardly lifted yourself off the desk, pulling up your own underwear and pants as well, and looking around for something to wipe yourself off with.

“Did you come?” he asked, and you felt shame and fear and anger bubble up inside you.  This had been a really, really bad idea, and both of you could lose your jobs over it, or worse. And he was such an asshole and you were supposed to be setting a good example for the women in your unit and here you were with some Army dumbass’ cum all over you and he didn’t even have the courtesy to make sure you’d finished before he did… what a joke.

“Oh, I came alright– came to my fucking senses.  Get out of my office,” you barked.

He laughed like he saw all this coming.

“Your office?  It’s my base.  Everything here is mine.  Even that jizz you’ve got on ya,” he grimaced.  “Kickin’ me out before it’s even gone cold.  You’re a real ray of sunshine as always, Major.”

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Major,” you realized. “Let’s make that the only thing done tonight that we turn into a habit, alright?”

He shrugged and turned to leave, but of course, he had to have the last word.  “You can fuck the ice queen but you can’t melt her, I guess.”

“Is that what this was?  Some sort of sexual scavenger hunt, to prove you were macho enough to get the prude to spread her legs?”

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” he grinned.

“I said get out,” you reminded him, hoping he’d leave before you started crying.  He did.

You didn’t cry very often, not something you had the luxury of doing after a decade at war.  And you still didn’t let yourself do it for very long, because you were morally opposed to crying over boys.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone Who, Like it Or Not, Will Want You to Share a Little a Lot

BEING ALIVE Chapter 9

PREVIOUS CHAPTER   

A/N: This is my submission for @thatesqcrush​ kink bingo square praise!kink. Also this chapter went a lot different than I originally planned but it just hit me like a ton of bricks so I hope it’s clear what I’m going for. IDK time to flip the script a little! Also if you saw this posted and disappear it’s because tumblr hates me ok sorry

Content Warning: Smut (ahah) and vague mentions of past abuse (if you’ve been reading the story you know)

Word Count: 5k (sorry lol)

(also how did I never see this gif before fuck me)

“I got you something,” Rafael says. You’re in his office for a lunch break, making sure he eats the salad you’d made for him. Sometimes he still hates you. When you try and shove lettuce down his throat, well, that’s one of those times. But he knows it’s for his own good, like most things you do with him in mind.

“Ooh, we’re doing birthday gifts already?“ you ask, kissing his cheek. "I figured I’d see you later… you’re coming to the restaurant, right? I really don’t think Sonny knows what ‘surprise’ means, but hey. It’s nice of him and the squad.”

“Yes. I know all about it. He hasn’t left me alone for the past two weeks.”

“Nice to know someone cares about me,” you tease, and Rafael rolls his eyes.

“Well, anyway, I figured I’d see you at lunch today, so I brought this one thing with me. I wanted you to wear it tonight. Don’t worry, cariño, you have plenty of other gifts waiting for you at my place.”

“I told you not to go all out. I’m only turning 26. 35 is the next big one.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “35? I thought it was 30?”

"No. I think 30 will be just another one. Everyone makes it a big deal because it ends in a 0, but I don’t think it is. 35 is where the line is crossed. That’s when you’re officially middle-aged,” you say, grinning a little.

“Jesus, so what am I? Ancient?”

“No. You’re still middle-aged,” you giggle. “You’re getting there, though.”

“Mm. Right. Remind me why I spent money on you again?”

“Because…” you drawl, pulling him in by his tie to press your lips to his. And oh, it’s a mesmerizing kiss, like most of them are: one of your hands moves to the back of his head, pulling him in ever closer, and you’re slipping your tongue in his mouth, the acidic tinge of the vinaigrette you had been eating just the jolt he needed to get him to grasp for you. His hands slip under your shirt, earning a gasp from you, but Rafael remembers he’s in his office and the shades aren’t drawn and keeps his hands on your waist. You’re not close enough; you’re never close enough. “That’s why. Right?”

“Right. I forgot,” he snickers, pecking your lips. “Do you want your present or not?”

“Of course, honey.”

So he gets up and pulls out a jewelry box from his desk drawer, taking a deep breath, unsure of why he was so nervous. He smiles awkwardly, walking back over to the table and handing it to you.

“Open it, cariño.”

You do, your hands shaking a little as you unlatch the box, revealing a simple, delicate gold chain with an emerald pendant attached to it. You don’t say anything, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

“Do you not like it?” he asks, cursing himself. He should’ve asked you to pick something else out.

“Rafael, I can’t accept this. How much money was this? I can’t…”

“It doesn’t matter. I bought it for you, and I want you to have it. Do you like it, (y/n)?”

“I love it, Rafael, but it’s too much… I told you not to spend too much.”

Who was counting? He wasn’t above sharing his wealth that he’d worked to accrue. It was nice to be able to give, sometimes, and that was the expectation, wasn’t it? It was your birthday, he was your boyfriend, and he would be damned if he was outdone by anyone on the squad tonight.

"Just let me give this to you. Please,” he says. “And don’t cry.” God, you were always crying. Too much. You were an emotional person, and internalized everything, good or bad. He’d have to talk you out of ways you put yourself down frequently, but lately he’s been finding it hard to be bothered by it, because you’d smile after he smoothed out the knots in your mind, and kiss him like you meant it. “Stand up. Let me put it on.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding and getting up. “This is the nicest thing…anyone’s ever bought for me. Don’t think I don’t want it, Rafael, I do, but it’s… I was shocked at first. I don’t want to put you out.”

"Shh,” he says, taking the necklace out of the box and pushing your hair aside. He kisses the back of your neck, placing the necklace on your skin and clasping the hook.

“I like the pendant,” you say, fingering it between your pointer finger and thumb. “It reminds me of your eyes. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’m not in the habit of buying jewelry, really. I never had anyone to buy anything for, so I didn’t know…”

“You have good taste,” you say, turning around and smiling, but then your face falls a little. “But… Rafael… how long?”

“How long what?”

“How long did you live like that? Alone? I mean, after Yelina, did you ever get that close again?”

He sighs, leaning against the table. He doesn’t want to divulge this, but at the same time he feels like he has to share. “There was a man. I was… 35,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “But we didn’t work out. Guess I didn’t get the memo that that’s when I was supposed to have my shit together. And I just… I just gave up after that. I had flings, but never got that close again.”

"Honey, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I was only joking about the middle-age thing—“

Rafael waves his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, (y/n).”

“You sure?”

“Mm,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Eight years is a long time, though.”

"It is… and if I ever seem distant, I don’t mean to be. I’m just used to being alone.”

“I don’t want you to ever get used to that again, honey,” you say, leaning against the table next to him. “You get used to me being here. Soy tuyo y… eres mio.”

He kisses you then, urgently. God, you were going to start talking to him in Spanish now? Even if all you knew was elementary level, he was a goner.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, because Carisi’s knocking on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Counselor, but I need to borrow the birthday girl,” he says, smiling brightly in that annoying way he always did. “We need her more than you right now.”

"What happened? I told Olivia an hour,” you ask, taking Rafael’s hand in your own as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yeah, well, you know you can ask for an hour… but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. She told me to come pick you up. We got a lead, and if you wanna get out by dinner…”

You roll your eyes at Sonny, then glance at Rafael. "Looks like I have to cut this short. Bye, honey,” you say, kissing him. “Make sure you eat your salad.”

“Yeah, Barba. Gotta get those greens in,” Carisi chuckles as you both give him a look. “What? It’s cute that you worry about his health. My ma, she’s always on my father about taking his meds, and she cooks for him, makes sure he goes for walks.”

“Well, I can’t have Rafael dying on me,” you say, putting on your coat. “I’d miss him too much.” You flash Rafael a smile, heading out with Carisi’s arm around your shoulder.

Sometimes he still feels a pang in his chest when he sees you with Carisi. Things seemed so easy between the two of you, so simple, like you’d been friends for decades as opposed to the months Carisi had been on the SVU. And Carisi was still annoying, God, the man never shut up about anything, and his off-color comments were more than eyebrow-raising at times. In some ways, Carisi was your work-husband, and Rafael supposes that’s to be expected. Partners got close, maybe even closer than some legal marriages.

Another reason why it was a sham. Right? Just because you didn’t have a ring on your finger or his last name didn’t mean you weren’t close to him.

But you could always be closer. Too close for comfort. Wake up next to him every day, brush your teeth in the bathroom next to him while he shaves, argue with him about not taking the trash out on time or something equally mundane. Sounds like hell. Sounds like monotony. Sounds like settling, maybe more on your part than his.

Because who would be able to marry you and call that settling?

Aside from the fact that marriage was always a risk for settling - because what are the odds you pick the right stranger off the streets of New York to bind yourself to for the rest of your life? Another hundred people were always getting off trains, getting on buses, leaving crowded streets to catch planes into or out of this city.

Rafael, though, he was always staying in the same place.

And, even though it may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that somewhere on some paper in that precinct, your name is next to Carisi’s, billing you as partners. There was no such record of you and Rafael anywhere, not even a Facebook status. And that? From a legal standpoint, if one wanted to be crude, you two were nothing more than friends who fucked. Even if you did live together (which you didn’t) common law marriage wasn’t legal in New York.

So. Legally, if you went down that convoluted path, maybe you were closer to Carisi.

Rafael isn’t sure what to think about that. He’s over the jealousy; it’s been long enough now that he trusts you not to do anything stupid, and as much as Rafael hates to admit it he believes Carisi’s too set in his morals to even look at you suggestively. But it’s still something to think about, isn’t it?

——

“You look gorgeous,” Rafael whispers in your ear, helping you zip up your dress. You did; clad in a crushed velvet emerald long-sleeve number - yet another thing Rafael shelled out money for - and there’s a sense of pride in seeing it match perfectly with the necklace he’d gifted you earlier. “But I already can’t wait to bring you back here.”

“Mm, is that yet another present, honey?” you ask, pressing back against him. “You’ve really been spoiling me.”

“You’ve been a good girl. You deserve it,” he says, chuckling as you shiver.

“We’re gonna be late. Not nice to tease me,” you pout.

“I’ll make it up to you tenfold. Put your shoes on.”

The restaurant is nicer than Rafael thought the squad would pick out when they mentioned this idea to him a few weeks ago, but he has half a mind that they thought Rafael would help cover most of the bill. Which he did, as expected. Give a little, get a lot. Something like that. Like it or not, he’s dating the birthday girl, and he’s expected to be more giving than usual. By you, too, of course, even if you would never voice that assumption. He couldn’t very well buy himself suits that cost two grand for no reason and justify not spending the same amount or more on you on special occasions.

“Hey, happy birthday! Surprise!” Carisi says as you get to the table.

You roll your eyes at him before hugging him. “You said happy birthday to me, like, what? Twenty times today? It’s not a surprise anymore. But thank you.”

“Hey. Dream team. Had to do something for the best pardna in the world,” he says.

“Well, damn, Barba, you got (y/n) dressing to the nines too, now,” Amanda says when she sees you, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently. “I feel underdressed now.”

“Nah, you look beautiful, Amanda,” you tell her, grinning back. “Blue’s your color.”

“Green’s definitely yours.”

This is the first time the whole squad has gone out with Rafael present since they found out for certain that the two of you were dating, and Rafael isn’t quite sure what to make of the atmosphere. He still feels excluded as the only lawyer present at a table full of detectives, and he thought maybe a known tie to you would change that, but it doesn’t, not much. Everyone falls into telling stories, and tonight they mostly concern you - but Rafael has none he wants to share even if maybe you expect him to contribute to the conversation.

What could he say that they didn’t already know?

Besides, what the hell did they think about him? He can only imagine what went through their heads once it was confirmed that he was dating you.

Isn’t he a little bit, well… too much of a smartass? Tacky, in the sense that he’s still that same kid from the barrio trying to fit in with the upper-class of New York with expensive suits and a brass ego? Old? Short? Aggressive (maybe more so passively)? Neurotic? Peculiar? Depressing?

God, he’s practically old enough to be your father.

Everyone was always trying to set you up with someone before they knew you weren’t single, whether it be Sonny with his Fordham buddies or Amanda with her men from god-knows-where or even Olivia one time with a sergeant from a different department. Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful, and beautiful people don’t stay single for long (unless, perhaps, if they were surly and standoffish, which you weren’t in the slightest). You’re a charmer, even if you don’t necessarily mean to be. A flirt without quite realizing it, without being too much of a threat. Pleasant to be around. Easy to like. A little shy, a little rough around the edges, a little stoic at first, sure, but that was easily overlooked and if someone put in the time, you were an open book.

It was easy to pity you. Maybe that shouldn’t be how he sees you, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel so damn bad given everything that’s happened to you. And he knows that’s how the squad feels too. Sure, you could handle yourself on your own, but no one wanted to let you. It’s in Olivia’s eyes when she looks at you sympathetically, it’s in Amanda’s hand when she squeezes your shoulder, it’s in Carisi’s insistence on putting himself in harms’ way so you wouldn’t ever have to take the fall: Poor baby. We’re the only tenderness you’ve ever known.

And maybe that’s true, maybe this squad was the only kind of lasting kindness you’d ever been shown. You don’t talk much about your past, and that’s fair, because Rafael doesn’t think there’s much that would be pleasant to recount. After the rape, middle school was difficult for you, as was to be expected, and you didn’t have many friends that stuck around. He’s never heard you say a word about high school, and sure, college was probably a lot better than the hell you’d been through before, but you had no one you kept in contact with from there, not even the woman you mentioned sleeping with before. Maybe life hasn’t handed you all the wrong cards: you’re gorgeous, you’re intelligent, you’re great at your job.

But in the interpersonal sphere, you’re lacking, maybe as sorely as Rafael, and that’s something he never quite thought about until now. You didn’t wear it like he did though, and you still had hope, somehow, whereas Rafael’s supplies of optimism had been used up over the years. Maybe one day you’d run out, too.

Leave it to Rafael to bring the melancholy to a birthday party.

But you wouldn’t bring the squad home; you couldn’t. On the nights you didn’t spend at Rafael’s or the nights he didn’t spend at your apartment, you were as alone as he was. He wonders, did you sit there and stare at the walls, struggle to sleep without him by your side… or did you not care?

“Honey, I was talking about you,” you say, giggling a little, and he feels your hand on his shoulder bring him back to the present. “You’ve been out of it, tonight, huh? Anyway, I was going to ask if you’d tell them about your theatre productions—“

“Oh, Jesus, (y/n), why the hell are you going to bring that shit up?” he asks, feeling a slight blush creep up his neck. “I told you about that in confidence.”

“Oh, come on. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, come on, Barba. She’s the birthday girl. You gotta do what she says,” Carisi chimes in.

Rafael glares at him and sighs. "Fine.”

“Floor is yours, Counselor,” Amanda says, winking. “Maybe you can sing for us, too.”

“Fine. I was in theatre in middle and high school. Happy?” he snaps. He knows he shouldn’t be so mean, and this was trivial, but he could do without the little jabs from the squad and your puppy-dog eyes.

“Why do you have to be like that, Rafi?” you ask. “Come on. Tell them the production in eighth grade.”

“This really means that much to you?“

"Will you just tell the story?” you ask. “No one will make fun of you, honey. I won’t let them.”

“Mm. Right. Well, my school couldn’t get the licensing rights to anything actually good that year for the Christmas musical… so we did A Christmas Peter Pan. It was about as awful as you think it would be.”

“What part did you play?” Olivia asks. Of course she’s the only one at the table who’s not tittering with laughter.

“I didn’t try out soon enough, and they didn’t have any parts left… so I played the crocodile.”

Amanda damn near spits out her drink, and Rafael rolls his eyes as Carisi laughs heartedly and Fin and Nick try and fail to not crack teasing smiles.

“I just really can’t picture that, Barba. Damn,” Carisi says after he calms down. “How bad was the costume?”

“What do you think a middle school theatre department could put together?” Rafael asks, narrowing his eyes. “Anyway. I didn’t have any lines, at least.”

“No, but you had three scary entrances,” you tease, grinning brightly and squeezing his shoulder. “Hey. It was your debut. I can’t wait until I get your mother to show me pictures—“

“Send them to me,” Amanda says. “I’m begging you.”

“I’m going to get my mother to burn that scrapbook before you’re ever in its vicinity,” Rafael mutters, chuckling.

“Aw, come on, honey, don’t be like that. You know I’d never let Amanda see them. Sonny, maybe—“

“Hey!” Amanda interjects while Rafael shoots you a withering look.

“No, I wouldn’t let him see them either. Some things are actually meant to be shared in confidence,” you laugh. “But anyway, Rafael went on to bigger and better things. He played Kenickie in Grease sophomore year, right? And you got the lead senior year?”

“Mm. Nathan Detroit. Guys and Dolls.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Carisi says.

“Of course you don’t,” Rafael retorts.

“It was a big part. He says his mother has a tape of that somewhere—“

“Are you trying to kill me, (y/n)?” Amanda asks exasperatedly. “The knowledge that that’s on film and I’ll never see it?”

“Mm. Deal with it. That’s not the one you wanna make fun of though,” you say. “Rafael can sing. He never will in front of you guys now, but he can.”

Right. Little things he’d shared with you, maybe without even meaning to, and now you could list them off as nonchalantly as if you were talking about yourself. Did any of his ex-lovers ever bother to learn all his amateur theatre roles front to back?

Thankfully, the waitress brings the cake over after a few minutes, saving him from more humiliation, and everyone, even Rafael, obliges and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to you before you blow out the candles.

“Well, our blessings, (y/n),” Olivia says, grinning.

“Don’t tell your wish or it won’t come true,” Fin chuckles.

“Actually… I didn’t wish for anything,” you say, shrugging.

“What do you mean, you didn’t wish for anything?” Carisi asks.

“Tell, but lie,” Nick says.

“Nah. I’ve got everything I want. Thank you for including me in your thoughts, your lives—“

“Aww. Stay exactly as you are, (y/n),” Carisi says, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “What a sweetheart, huh, Barba?”

“Everyone adores you, (y/n),” Amanda laughs. “What an awful thing.”

Yeah. Everyone did adore you - but you weren’t an unshakable tenant in anyone’s life.

And, come to think of it, neither was Rafael. Rafael was always confused as to why the hell you even approached him all those months ago, flirted with him, got him to buy you dinner… but fuck, it was clear now. You were alone, grasping at straws just like he was. A couple months in the city you dreamed of living in since you were a child provided you with nothing more than acquaintances you worked and occasionally got drunk with, and maybe it was human nature to want more than that.

Yet here you were insisting that you didn’t wish for anything. What the hell? Didn’t you want more than what Rafael was giving you? Shouldn’t you?

Fuck if he knows. He’s not even sure what he wants anymore, never mind what you want.

——

Rafael has never been above sharing his body for someone else’s pleasure. It felt good to give in this regard, and fuck it, if anyone deserved to have a good, healthy sex life it was you.

It had been a long road to get you comfortable - yes, the first time you had sex with him you were more than a willing participant - but he’d notice sometimes when he initiated things, you would space out and become unresponsive. That was absolutely not going to work for him. He’s been prosecuting sex crimes long enough for that to turn his stomach in the worst way. The last thing he’d want is to take advantage of someone who was lying underneath him just because they thought it would appease him, not because they genuinely wanted to be there.

You got mad at him the first time he brought it up; said he was reading too much into things - but eventually you came around and admitted what had made you uncomfortable, what had turned you off, what had made you freeze, and what it came down to was years of trauma that no one had bothered to work through, not even yourself. What started with the rape went on to college boys who wouldn’t keep their hands to themselves and tried to pressure you when you weren’t ready - and you’d never quite learned to say no. You said you didn’t want to share this, didn’t want him to think you were some perpetual victim or that you didn’t enjoy sex - because you had had positive sexual experiences aside from Rafael, obviously - but sometimes all it took was a touch in the wrong place and you shut down. You still had issues here and there, but at least you’d actually fucking talk to him now, which was progress. He would’ve thought for an SVU detective with a psychology degree this wouldn’t be an issue, but maybe it’s how it goes - you put all your energy out there for the victims and you never learn how to unlearn your own toxic thought cycles and behaviors.

Also, Rafael learned, through trial and error, that you liked to be praised. Maybe it was after years of being ashamed of your body and sex, after years of feeling like you were inexperienced because you never met anyone worth having experiences with… but it was almost like you got off on it and Rafael wouldn’t really mind if that was the case. You are a good girl - his good girl - especially now, as he’s sitting at his desk chair in his apartment and you’re riding his thigh, your dress ridden up to your waist. Your lips are kiss-bruised and you’re so wet he can feel you seep through your panties to his dress pants.

Fuck it if you ruined them. Fuck it if you ruined him.

“Yes, good girl, you gonna get off on my thigh, (y/n)?” he asks, his voice low in your ear.

“I don’t know if I can,” you laugh. “Might need some assistance.”

“No, I think you can. Want you to try it. You think you’re close, mi buena chica?”

“Mm, don’t know. I didn’t think I was gonna have to work this hard on my birthday,” you say, leaning down to kiss his mouth. “Don’t you think those hands could be of good use somewhere?”

“Maybe. Where do you want them?“

"Mm, fucking everywhere,” you drawl.

For Rafael, sex was always just fun. Usually, it was better if he knew the person at least a little, but after Yelina, he didn’t care as much and was a little more of a libertine. Sex with you, though; it’s different - it’s a conversation - maybe like it’s supposed to be, sharing what you can’t or what you won’t say with words.

Maybe he should feel more flattered, because you were sharing a lot, too.

Rafael gives you what you want, though, cupping your breasts as he kisses you, murmuring words of encouragement in your ear in between - “Yes, just like that, you can do it, come for me, such a good girl, come on, cariño” - and when you do finally fall apart, he peppers your face with kisses. “See? I told you.”

“Mm. Sometimes you’re right,” you giggle, kissing the side of his mouth. “But I’m not working that hard for the next orgasm.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles.

And you don’t; Rafael brings you over the edge with his tongue and fingers, but you’ve barely come down from your high before he’s on his back, at your mercy instead.

“What are you doing? Didn’t think you wanted to work for it anymore,” he teases as you press kisses on his chest.

“Nah, you’re gonna fuck me, hombre, but I want to do something for you first,” you purr, trailing down lower, lower, lower…

“It’s your birthday–”

“Mm. Yeah. But now I just guaranteed that you have to go down on me on yours,” you giggle. “No. We’re not counting favors here, right? Just let me.”

And you’re so good. You always are, but every time just seems to get better as you learn more of what he likes, what gets him off. He wonders vaguely if he you feel that way too, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on that as your lips wrap around his cock. “Fuck, so good, (y/n),” he hisses. If he wasn’t almost painfully hard before he definitely is now. “That’s it, oh fuck.”

One of your hands comes to cup his balls gently as your tongue and lips work his cock and it’s hard to remember that you were ever tentative giving him a blowjob before. Maybe that’s the thing about sex; everyone thinks they need experience to be a good lover, but maybe they don’t. Maybe they just need to listen to their partner. Rafael’s slept with people who have slept with countless numbers of people but no one’s ever learned his body like you, and your count was much lower. Granted, Rafael never quite allowed himself this type of vulnerability with anyone else in recent history, either, but it was only fair that if some of your walls came down some of his did as well.

Still, he has to make sure you know that by gasping out praise and encouragement, tangling his hands in your hair, being careful not to pull too harshly. “Fuck, so good at that, sucking my cock so good, se buena, mm, fuck.”

Eventually, though, Rafael can feel that he’s dangering the brink and has to stop you. Switching positions again - you’re on your back for him now - and he’s lining up his cock with your pussy, making sure you’re still good. With your consent, he enters you, groaning softly at finally feeling you wet and warm around his cock.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” he grunts as he starts fucking in and out of you, slowly at first.

“I’d hope you think so,” you say.

“Think - no. You are. Fucking gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush a little and he can’t believe you still get flustered when he tells you that. But you are a vision - hair splayed on his pillow, your breasts heaving in tandem with your breath, your skin shining with a slight sheen of perspiration. Yeah. Fucking gorgeous.

And, oh fuck, now you’re clawing at his back, scratching with your nails. A shiver runs down his spine as he fucks into you harder, “That good?”

“Fuck, yeah, Rafael, fuck me,” you whine and he leans down to press a searing kiss to your mouth.

“Mm, so pretty, taking my cock so well, cosita bonita, so good for me,” he rasps in your ear.

You’re meeting him thrust for thrust; the only sounds Rafael can hear is the slap of skin on skin and his heart pounding in his ears as he kisses up and down your neck. “Mm, Rafael, feels so good,” you purr, and yeah, now he can see why you get off on those simple words of encouragement.

It’s not long before the two of you reach your highs and come down, a panting, tangled mess twisted up in his bedsheets. “Mm. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño.”

“Yeah, happy birthday to me,” you laugh, leaning over to snuggle against his chest. “Fuck, I’m exhausted now.”

“Thought I was supposed to be the old one.”

“Like you could go for another round right now.”

“Try me, mujer,” he chuckles. “Shower?”

“In a minute,” you giggle. “Let my heart rate come down a little.”

The two of you lay there in silence, your breathing rates settling while Rafael’s mind sets off to the races again. You were right, earlier, eight years was a fucking long time and it didn’t get any easier to be alone.

It doesn’t get any easier to be with someone, either, though, like when you wake him up too early in the morning and ruin his precious sleep, or when you make snide remarks that ruin his day and bruise his ego or, worst of all, as always: when you see right through him, like the front he puts up just doesn’t exist.

Maybe, though, maybe he’s a masochist because god forbid you leave. Here he was, carving out hours of his precious time; time he used to tell his mother he never had to spare, and sharing it with you. And you wanted him to.

Rafael doesn’t know what the hell to make of that.

Tag list: @caked-crusader​ @thatesqcrush​ @law-nerd105​ @arabellathorne​ @blackeyedangel9805​ @moon-river-drifter

[hiuythn]

do u have any krbk fics that u can rec? any favorites of urs! ☺️

you’re in luck bc i just made a rec list for a friend so i have this ready for you

also i’ve got over 200 krbk bookmarks on ao3 so feel free to check that out if you finish this rec list.

all (except one) of these are completed. they're in no particular order. i tried to find ones that are less known, bc idk how much you've read but i'm assuming all the popular ones are familiar to you. happy reading! 💖💖💖

Inevitable - Legendaerie - 8k - mature CLASSIC 'bkg thinks they've been together and kiri thinks he's still pining' TROPE. it's INCOMPREHENSIBLE to me why this doesn't have more fucking kudos!!! why!!!

Tiny Truths - Quirk Archivist (OneHitWondersAnonymous) - 4k - teen bkg gets de-aged. kid him reveals sth to class 1a, more imptly, to KIRI, abt some ideas about what it means to open a hero agency together. it's super adorable!!

Punch My Mouth with Your Mouth - QuestCat44 - 4k - teen bkg spars with deku more bc OfA is acting up and he's the only one in the know. kiri gets jealous but he's so good-natured that his jealousy is only bc he misses sparring/spending time with bkg. BKG, on the other hand, is worried kiri is mad for different reasons asdkjfhasdhfa

all according to keikaku........... - carolinaa - 8k - teen the title should already tell you how good this is. I LOVE JEALOUSY FICS WHEN THEY'RE MORE FUNNY THAN ANGSTY AND THIS IS SO FUNNY. kiri gets tired of deku being a pussy around todo and decides to flirt with todo to get deku jealous enough to do sth about it. bkg and todo are both horrified for VERY different reasons DHADSKDFHJS

doll me up - shizuumi151 - 6k - gen kiri gets turned into a doll by a kid's quirk and no one knows. bkg still ends up caring for him :’)

These Words Are Ours - deviance - 2k - teen soulmate au but bkg figures who's going to say his words before it happens, and honestly that's kind of the point. he's not the type to fall in love at first sight. he MAKES the choice to love kiri and that, my friends, is my kind of soulmate au.

all good things need sunshine - shizuumi151 - 3k - teen FLORIST KIRI. BKG WANTS A BOUQUET THAT SAYS  'FUCK YOU'

Flour Power - WingSongHalo - 26k - teen KRBK HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF A BAG OF FLOUR AND PRETEND IT'S THEIR BABY

feedback loop - bigstupidjellyfish - 1k - teen PRO HERO BKG GETS THROWN BACK IN TIME FOR A BIT AND MEETS MIDDLE SCHOOL KIRI AND HE'S SO SOFT TO HIM ASDFHKASDFJ. i am a big fan of bkg being a fan of kiri. i can't get ENOUGH OF IT. can someone give me more fics like this

mixed signals - bigstupidjellyfish - 2k -teen a short 'what if' fic where kiri and bkg went to the same middle school. bkg's still an ass but kiri's still his equal it seems, and is just as good as handling him as ever

Trash Goblin Finds Love - wrunic - 4k - teen COFFEE SHOP AU. BARISTA   KIRI GETS SICK ONE TIME AND BKG MAKES HIM SOUP AND FORCES KIRI'S COWORKER TO DELIVER IT ASDJHFS

Dreaming of a White Mocha Christmas - let_me_wander - 8k - teen ANOTHER COFFEE SHOP AU.  BARISTA KIRI AND HIS FAV CUSTOMER ;) GET SNOWED IN  

Something Warm - let_me_wander - 15k - teen YES FOLKS IT'S A A A ANOTHER COFFEE SHOP FIC, THAT'S RIGHT!! BARISTA BKG THIS TIME. also kr is in a band and writes a song for bkg asdfhksjd

Kneel - deviance - 7k - explicit idk if you wanted explicit stuff but this is pretty light sub stuff, they're not even properly together at the beginning, and there isn’t sex til the end. i just liked how kiri is the only one bkg would rely on for sth this private, and it's more emotional than it is sexual?

Everyone Knows That Cats Are Independent - PurplePersnickety - 39k - teen YET. ANOTHER. COFFEE SHOP AU. but also?? daemons?? katsuki's got a lionness, and kiri has a...i'll let you find out. anyway they become closer and closer and closer and the flirting is so fucking excruciatingly obvious but cute and sdkjfhasdjs it's such a queer experience like 'is he...no he cant be...but what if he did like me - no that's not possible. but what if?' and they get so domestic sometimes i swear i'm about to puke from how cute it is. this is my fav coffee shop au ngl

Broken Bridges - DeathBelle - 68k - explicit plot fic!! krbk loses touch after gradutation. kiri comes back from korea and starts to work together with bkg, dealing with a series of murders and MAN the action is 👌 easy to follow but it hits all the beats, has that Flow. krbk being a power couple will never get old!!

Of Ghosts and other Inaccurate Things - chezka - 56k - gen pretty sure you've seen this one around but STILL. BKG FALLING FOR 'GHOST' KIRI IS BEST. this au really takes FULL COMPLETE advantage of the fact that krbk CANNOT TOUCH and the yearning practically astral-projected me back into the my past life when i was a dung beetle that got crushed under the foot of an elephant. it hurt, basically. but it hurt so good. JUST LET BKG HUG KIRI!!! happy ending ofc.

Catching Bees - MonocerosRex - 2k - teen bkg has to pay his classmates compliments. class 1a hijinks. the krbk in this is short but it made me squeal sdhfkakjl

i'm going to the forest to kick my own ass - WannabeMarySue - 5k - teen TODO PRANKS BKG BUT UNLUCKY FOR HIM BKG IS COMPETITIVE AND ACTUALLY LEARNS SOMETHING

Hair Care 101 - overlymetaromantic - 7k - gen ASDHFASDFHAJKS KIRI MEETS BKG'S MOM BY ACCIDENT AND GETS HAIR HELP AND THEY TALK ABOUT BKG AND IT'S SO. CUTE. AND THEN BKG DYES KR'S HAIR IN THE SECOND CHAPTER AND THEY'RE SO BLUSHY AND SWEET I CAN'T!!

Sometimes We Fall in the Dark - timetoboldlygo - 16k - teen BKG TAKING PHOTOS OF THINGS FOR THERAPY. YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT HOW YOU PHOTOGRAPH THINGS YOU TREASURE 👀👀👀

Corn Chip - smol_bird - 23k - teen I DONT FUCKIGN KNOW WHY THIS DOESN'T HAVE MORE KUDOS. IT'S LITERALLY SO GOOD. DEMON KIRI IS JOKINGLY SUMMONED BY BKG AND FRIENDS. THEY FALL IN LOVE. KIRI HAS TO LEAVE. BKG IS DETERMINED NOT TO LET THAT HAPPEN. HAPPY ENDING. WHAT ELSE COULD YOU ASK FOR

'cause i love you for infinity - multiclassmaps - 23k - teen SDHFADSJFASD DEMON AU AGAIN. THIS TIME IT'S KIRI THAT DOES THE SUMMONING. BUT WHY DOES BKG SEEM SO FAMILIAR??? WHAT CAN KIRI DO TO MAKE HIM STAY??

to the beat of your heart - drifting_i - 8k - gen BAND AU. KIRI WORKS AT A RESTAURANT AND SOMEHOW BEFRIENDS DRUMMER BKG AND BKG'S BAND CAN'T BELIEVE THAT KIRI GETS AWAY WITH HALF THE SHIT BKG ALLOWS HIM TO

Playing Favorites - vaporeon_ninja - 2k - gen AKSDJFHJADHFKA BKG GETS CALLED OUT ON HIS KIRI FAVOURITISM

(Not Quite) Proposal - imatrisarahtops - 783 - teen DRUNK BKG IS SAPPY WITH HIS BOYF

something worth remembering - bbuggs - 1k - teen DRUNK BKG AGAIN!!! THIS TIME HE DOESN'T REMEMBER KIRI IS HIS HUSBAND AND HE'S SO DISTRAUGHT ABOUT KIRI BEING TAKEN SDFJHSK

A Dragon's Hoard - chezka - 10k - teen kiri gets turned into a dragon bc of a quirk. LOVE HOW DRAGON KIRI STILL LIKES BKG BEST

Love Notes - PurplePersnickety - 5k - teen LOVE NOTES BKG LEAVES LOVE NOTES FOR KIRI IT'S SO SWEET

Define: Oblivious - PurplePersnickety - 45k - teen this is the second part to Love Notes, it's still updating BUT PLEASE CHECK IT OUT TOO BC KIRI DOES STH SO BADASS DURING PRACTICAL TRAINING I LOVE HIM I REREAD THIS NOW AND THEN JUST FOR HOW COOL HE IS IN THAT ONE CHAPTER. also the steady, careful way krbk define their relationship and bkg's demisexuality is so sweet, so good.

The Hard Easy - dirtbag - 4k - teen this one is pretty popular but i still gotta mention it bc. kissing lessons. KISSING LESSONS!!! i love how eagar bkg is askdfhks

Kitsune's Pride - kytrin, Mslead - 147k - explicit okay this was A DOOZY like i???? the plot???? the time travel and the oni and kitsune stuff???? bkg and kiri being badasses??? bkg wanting the best for kiri and angrily supporting him??? this was the first time i kept up to date with a fic when it was still updating and commenting every chapte,r i was so hooked. and ALSO like the authors have written SO MUCH more longfics like this like they have NOVELS and i REALLY rec you check them out like....bro idk how they do they have so much out already and i think and they're updating two more rn and i'm. their bitch tbh

Burden of Proof - kytrin, Mslead - 153k - explicit OK ONE MORE REC FOR THESE AUTHORS. burden of proof is so. so fcukign good. i have adhd and these guys have never one lost me even tho their fics are upwards of 60k. this fic has dragons, it has plot, it has growth and healing and found families and i WISH i could write sth this intricate.

Burger Kings - plantegg - 5k - teen stupid teenage boys being stupid. kiri blackmails bkg into going on a date asjdfhkdsjfakd

Worth a Thousand Words - awareoftheconcept - 43k - teen SDKJFHASKH THIS IS A GUILTY PLEASURE OF MINE I KNOW THE LACK OF COMMUNICATION TROPE IS OVERUSED BUT I CAN'T HELP FALL FOR ANGSTY KIRI AND OMG THE CONFRONTATION SCENE AT THE END IS SO. SO. SO MOVIE-ESQUE I HATE HOW LAME I AM. basically everyone thinks bkg is dating camie asdkjfhskd

Day 6: Fandom - PullingAllMighters, SweetBrew - 9k - mature bkg and kiri don't know each other until they're pro heros and only bc they start a competition to see who's better and they go to each other's signings undercover and develop crushes on each other and deku is an enABLER ASHAHAJFS

Scales Ain't The Same As Feathers - Julietwasanidiot - 2k - gen GOD THIS IS SO CUTE BABY BKG "FINDERS KEEPERS" A BABY DRAGON KIRI SKDHFHD but he thinks kiri is a chicken

Charades - orphan_account - 4k - teen this is just soft....game night....at one point bkg acts out a really romantic word for charades and he's EMBARRASSED SDJFHA. also kiri falls asleep on him and there's some hair stroking....soft...

Cranky-rishima - PurplePersnickety - 29k - teen kirishima is the one with nightmares in this one and he gets CRANKY and BKG has to be the one to reach out and i thought that was such a fresh reversal loved it

No Secrets to Success - kingdoms - 7k - teen THIS IS MY FAV!! MY ABSOLUTE FAV JUST BC I LOVE IT WHEN FICS MAKE PEOPLE GAPE IN AWE FROM HOW SOFT BKG IS WITH KIRI. also krbk forming their relationship outside of school in this au was so??? sweet??? it's just them hanging out together. ALSO KIRI IS SO GOOD AT POKING BKG'S BUTTONS ASJDFHASK

Built to Fall - bigstupidjellyfish - 68k - explicit pro heros fic. they had a bad breakup in third year and oh god the angst is QUALITY. DW THEY TOTALLY MAKE UP AND IT'S SO FCKN WORTH IT. bkg also got therapy so he’s a little more stable as an adult lol

A Name That You'll Remember - heronfem - 33k - mature bkg is a fail!villain. he fell in with the wrong crowd when he was younger. he doesn't actually do anything wrong. in fact, all of his 'crimes' are generally stopped by kiri and somehow all end up exposing corruption anyway, so he's actually helping. kids love bkg. he always makes sure they're safe before he robs a jewelry store or sth. somehow kiri ends up flirting with him in all their fights and bkg has no idea what to make of him. the public can't get enough of them

strawberry mango sweet - redriotinggg - 9k - teen it's just a really sweet smoothie shop au!!! it's good reliable fluff!! what else can you ask for!!

cultivating something so divine - redriotinggg - 10k - teen redriotinggg yet again, i love this au, it's vet!au and kiri is so good at loving animals that bkg hires him and they fall in love and it's also got some competency porn, as in krbk are hella good at their job like power couple ayy

Tension Reduction - acernor - 10k - explicit Kirishima is a massage therapist and Bakugo needs help relaxing.

Mistletoe? Mistletoe. - Tearsaresalty - 2k - teen class 1a keeps making bkg kiss kiri and neither of them really mind wow i wonder why 🙄