#but he was good about it. we both get what's up and also we both bonded over crying for several hours

[yoonjae20]

Bruce is (secretly) married [Bruce/Danny; Spirit Halloween]

I got sucked into the DPxDC crossover rabbit hole. I have read too many fanfics despite not knowing the source material.

I randomly got the idea of Bruce being secretly married and the Batfam finding out about it after Duke poses the question of why Bruce wears a ring. (Also how Danny's influence would have subtly changed things.)

Read this on ao3. Masterpost

Next.

Bruce had always worn the ring, long before Dick came around – at least that’s what the boy had told Jason when he asked about it. 

They had looked through the records one night – bonding over finding out when he started, but he had already worn the ring once the man returned from his seven year long  journey of training. The media had speculated it to be a family heirloom – either his father’s or mother’s wedding ring. Bruce neither confirmed or denied when they asked about it.  

The man never took it off, not even when he stalked the night as Batman and neither of them had been brave enough to ask about it, after they watched clips where the media asked and his Brucie mask slipped into something uncomfortably blank. 

Jason had quickly forgotten about it after Bruce had benched him from being Robin after Felipe Garzonasa’s death. He had been furious, questioning if Bruce didn’t believe him that he didn’t push the man.

“Of course I believe you, chum,” the man had said, but Jason didn’t trust the man’s words. “But you just saw a man die. That’s not something we should brush over.”

He had sent Jason to bed for the night, but the boy had sneaked out, believing Bruce to go back to patrol after dropping him off. He instead found him in his office, talking to someone on the phone.

“...You have better experience with stuff like this than me…” the man said. “Do you think I should have never given Jason Robin? I know Dick agreed, but…” Bruce trailed off and then paused to hear the other person’s response. “I know.” He let out a deep sigh. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow about it. Are you still planning on visiting for the anniversary? I would appreciate if you tried talking to-”

Jason didn’t wait to listen for more. He knew it. Bruce was going to take Robin away from him. 

He remembered the picture he had found of his birth mother. He initially had wanted to tell Bruce to get his help to find her, but now he isn’t sure if it’s such a good idea. If the man was gonna take Robin away from him anyway, he didn’t want to be there for the moment. 

With that goal in mind, unbeknownst to Bruce, he disappeared that night, setting out to the Middle East to find his mother. 

Bruce finds his corpse several weeks later. Dick breaks down in space when he receives the call from Bruce. They attend the funeral together, neither of them talking about it, even years later.

Jason returns several years later, dead set on revenge on Joker and on Bruce for never avenging him. What he doesn’t expect is to stumble over a newspaper celebrating the anniversary of the Jason Scholarship Foundation along with pictures of his funeral, showcasing both Bruce and Dick crying. 

He never stumbles upon a memorial with his battered Robin suit and the description “Jason Todd, a Good Soldier” and beats Tim Drake, the third Robin half dead for replacing him. Instead he returns to the Manor, overwhelmed at Bruce’s breakdown and reaction. Red Hood debuts several months later – with the Bat symbol on his chest. They still have their conflicts, but Jason never has to fill a duffel bag full of heads for his debut. 

It’s only once Damian arrives, Cass becomes Bruce’s daughter and Duke his ward that the topic of the ring gets brought up again. It’s Duke who asks what they all have been thinking. 

“By the way, why does Bruce wear a ring?”

Finding no information online and not managing to get anything out of Alfred, they break into Bruce’s office while he’s on patrol getting distracted by Damian and Cass. It’s Tim who finds it, in a locked drawer, sealed carefully.

A marriage certificate. 

“Who the hell is Daniel Fenton?” Jason questions gruffly.

“My husband.”

Jason startles, turning to the doorway. Bruce is standing there, his arm crossed and he cringes at the displeased raise of Bruce’s right eyebrow. Behind him Cass shrugs at Tim’s questioning gaze while Damian clicks his tongue.

“Why haven’t we met him? And, wait, does Dick know about this?” Tim asks. 

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he fiddles with the ring - the wedding ring. 

“Let’s go somewhere else for this.”

They all shuffle to one of their smaller living rooms. Duke sets up a voice call so Dick, who is back in Blüdhaven, doesn't have to miss out. Tim is on his own computer, no doubt researching everything he can find on Daniel Fenton. Or would he be Daniel Wayne? 

It’s Damian who breaks the silence.

“Father. Explain.”

The man presses his lips together as he stares down into his tea. Alfred squeezes his shoulder behind him. 

“The reason you haven’t met Danny is because he’s dead.” Bruce pauses while his kids pale. “Technically.”

Before either of them can question that, suddenly a young white haired boy appears, sitting on Bruce arm’s chair, eyebrow raised and wearing a black and white hazmat suit.

“Shouldn’t I be here for this?”

In an instant all of them sans Bruce and Alfred are on alert, Tim has a Batarang in hand, Jason one of his guns and Damian a knife poised to the unknown boy’s neck.

It’s Bruce who diffuses the situation.

“Danny?” Bruce sounds disbelieving and Damian twitches, knife still in hand. 

“In the flesh.” The boy does jazz hands, neck grazing the knife, but it doesn’t draw any blood. “Or ectoplasm. Whatever.”

“How wonderful of you to surprise us with your presence Master Danny,” Alfred says, tone slightly sarcastic and Damian finally steps back, eyebrows knitted together. 

Danny winces. 

“I would have warned you, but Clockwork just dropped me off, telling me that it’s finally time.”

“This is your husband?” Duke bursts out. 

The boy bows playfully.

“Danny Fenton-Wayne. King of the Infinite Realms. Half ghost and-” Suddenly he transforms, white rings traveling over his body and leaving behind a middle-aged black haired man. “-Half human.”

“GHOST?”

“HALF HUMAN?”

“KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?”

“Thank fuck I thought Bruce was a pedophile for a moment.”

Everyone turns to stare at Duke.

“What? I just said what everyone thought,” the boy defends himself.

“Actually that would be ephebophilia,” Danny corrects. “Although he would still classify as a necrophile.” 

Bruce punches the man’s forearm, rolling his eyes with a fond look and Danny yelps, rubbing the spot.

“Hey! If anyone is allowed to joke about it, it’s me!” the man complains with a pout and Bruce shakes his head. 

“Another reason why you never met Danny is because – believe it or not – he’s the King of the Infinite Realms, which means he is quite busy.”

“So much paperwork,” Danny groans. “If I get Constantine’s ass, I swear to the Ancients that he’s gonna die. Half a decade lost because I had to bargain for his soul pieces!”

“After I returned to Gotham to become Batman, the Infinite Realms unfortunately fell into war following a coup attempt, leaving Danny to deal with the mess.”

“And Clockwork prohibited me from visiting the Gotham until a certain point, claiming that I would change the timeline too much with my influence,” Danny finishes for Bruce, all of Bruce’s kids watching with fascination how seamlessly they seem to fit together as the man leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder while Bruce runs a hand through the man’s black hair. “Considering I would have never let Bruce run around with child vigilantes, he’s probably right.”

“I forgot you know about that,” Bruce sighs.

“Jazz kept me updated,” Danny says smugly.

“That’s a break of patient confidentiality,” Bruce grumbles. 

“She may be your therapist, but she’s also my sister.”

“Mr. I-Rather-Chew-Nails-than-Talk-About-My-Feelings?“ Jason exclaims. “No way!”

“I have been vocal about the fact that I go to therapy.” Bruce frowns.

“I thought you were joking!”

“Where do you guys think I go every Sunday evening?” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Justice League meeting?” 

“Golfing?”

Once again everyone stares at Duke and he flushes at the attention.

“I thought it’s a rich person thing!” 

Danny snorts.

“He got you there, darling.”

“When and how did you guys meet?” It’s the first time Dick actually speaks up, having observed everything – or as much as he could – through the web camera. 

“At a gala when both Bruce and I were teens,” Danny answers. “My godfather dragged me into it. At least one thing I can thank him for.”

Danny smiles while Bruce grunts in agreement. 

“The wedding?” Tim follows up.

Both Danny and Bruche pause to think.

“Did we do the civil registration in Paris or Las Vegas?” Danny turns to Bruce. “I can’t remember.”

“We were quite drunk,” Bruce agrees.

Danny snips his fingers like he remembers something, but then he shakes his head. He puts a hand to his chin, tiling his head. 

“Or was it Brazil?”

The rest blink at the pair before Danny shrugs with an apologetic smile.

“We had the real wedding in the Infinite Realms though,” Danny explains, “Once Bruce got finished with his training. The citizens wouldn’t have accepted it otherwise. Alfred would have taken pictures, but technology doesn’t work in the Infinite Realms.”

“Such a shame, it was quite a nice wedding,” Alfred affirms. 

“Alfred knew?!” is the consensus complaint. 

“Does Mother and Grandfather know about this?” Damian asks stiffly.

“Considering Ra’s used Bruce’s and your mother’s DNA to artificially create a baby despite knowing – he doesn’t care,” Danny says just a tad-bit too cheerfully. 

The revelation leaves everyone reeling. 

“Okay, now that all questions are answered-” Danny doesn’t give them time to inject. “Can we talk about the stinking elephant in the room?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow as Danny gestures to Jason. Jason almost would feel insulted if Danny didn’t sound so genuinely surprised that nobody else said or noticed something. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” Jason complains as he discreetly tries to sniff his armpits. Considering Tim’s and Dick’s snickering, he doesn’t succeed. 

“Your Ectoplasm reeks like-” Danny grimaces as he flails his arms. “Like you took a bath in spoiled eggs.”

Danny turns to Bruce with an angry look in his eyes.

“Especially you should have noticed, considering you are liminal! His core is completely malnourished.” Bruce winces. “Did you forget that I gave you a way to contact Frostbite?”

“Without the ambient ectoplasm you radiate my ability to see ectoplasmic entities and speak and read Ghost Speak slowly degraded over the years,” Bruce explains. “I wasn’t aware Jason had been a type of ectoplasmic entity.” 

“His eyes literally glow green when he’s angry!” Danny chides. “He returned from the dead for revenge. He’s clearly a Revenant. That’s Ghost 101!”

It’s amusing to see Bruce get scolded by someone else other than Alfred. Alone for that fact Jason has to admit that he begrudgingly likes Danny. 

“Alright-” Danny stands up and tugs on Jason’s arm. Bruce moves to follow him like second nature. “You are coming with me right this instant.”

Before anyone can stop them, Danny transforms back into his Ghost Form, Jason’s hand in one and Bruce in the other and steps through a glowing green portal, it vanishing shortly after. Silence follows.

“So well that just happened.”

This time everyone agrees with Duke. 

[harmonyrae]

Let You Make Me Juno

Synopsis: There’s a song you just can’t get out of your head. You just wanted to dance and sing along every time it came on. Which is exactly what you do and the boys have a very intense reaction to some of the lyrics.

AN: I hadn’t heard Juno by Sabrina Carpenter in its entirety until literally yesterday and I’ve been on a writing kick so… This happened. Smile. ENJOY!

Content Warnings: Heavy on the innuendos, also heavy on the implied activities, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, breeding kink (if you squint), the boys are shook & horny, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 3.1k

Whatever report Zayne is working on must be a hefty one, he’s been consistently typing for nearly an hour. You circle behind him and top off his coffee. He doesn’t look up, but hums as you pour - a silent thank you. You head back into the kitchen and continue making breakfast. 

It was rare that Zayne didn’t have to head to work early and the Association had given all Hunters a long weekend to celebrate the previous month. Only two injuries and no major incidents. You had both slept in and you were making pancakes. Usually Zayne would lecture you about “making sure you got protein and complex carbs” to start your day, but you promised to make chocolate chip pancakes and he stopped arguing. His sweet tooth won over in the end. 

You continue mixing the batter, swaying your hips to your playlist. Your “feel good” playlist, it always made you want to dance. You hum along while you wait for the pan to heat up. That’s when you hear the beginning notes of the song you’re obsessed with. 

“Zayne! Can you turn the music up?”

You look over your shoulder to see him nod, never taking his eyes off the screen. The music swells through the bluetooth speakers and you start bouncing in excitement. You immediately start singing along.

Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing Oh yeah, you just get it 

Finally, Zayne peels his eyes away from his report. He didn’t get a chance to write up the surgery debrief after getting home last night. He intended to stay up to finish it, but when he got home you were dressed in the black nightgown that drove him crazy. He spent his night doing something equally as important, but now he was rushing to get it completed. But when you started singing, he immediately took notice.

You usually didn’t sing out loud, preferring to hum along. And the way you bounced back and forth, your hips swaying seductively, was very distracting. You wore your satin sleep shorts and his dress shirt buttoned halfway, just a hint of your delicious cleavage peeking over the collar. Zayne straightens his back and tries to refocus.

Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh

He blinks rapidly before taking his glasses off to rub his eyes. He turns to look at you fully. Watching you dance and stir the pancake batter. You turn to look over at him, not expecting to see him looking at you. You see the tips of his ears have turned red and you giggle, continuing your dance while maintaining eye contact with him. 

You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah Wanna try on my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Zayne’s eyes widen and you can’t help but let out a loud laugh. The blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck. You set down the bowl and approach him, singing and dancing along the way. 

I know you want my touch for life If you love me right, then who knows? I might let you make me Juno

He finally stands, placing his hands on your hips. He doesn’t stop you from dancing, just holds you and feels you sway. You spot a smile creeping onto his face. You reach up and hold onto his shoulders. He leans down and starts placing open mouth kisses to the exposed skin of your chest. You close your eyes and feel his warm breath on your ear as he whispers.

“Isn’t ‘Juno’ that movie we watched a few weeks ago?”

You hum in agreement and Zayne doesn’t hesitate to pick you up, moving your legs to wrap around him. He squeezes your ass before he trails a hand under the back of your shirt. You shiver at his touch and cling to him. He turns and walks into the kitchen to turn off the stove.

“Don’t you want pancakes?”

Zayne smiles and his eyes sparkle with something you rarely see when you’re with him. 

“Oh, I’m still having cake for breakfast.”

How did you get roped into this? Tara is so damn persuasive. Or maybe you’ve had a few too many drinks? The little umbrellas make them seem so harmless though…

Xavier had tried to intercept and make sure you didn’t feel forced. But after Tara whispered what song she had picked for karaoke you were completely on board. Plus, you didn’t wear your favorite dress and heels for nothing. 

The fitted baby blue dress hugged your curves, but the tiered ruffles on the skirt made you feel like a ballerina when you twirled. The square neckline flattering your defined collarbone, while hiding a hickey on your shoulder. You tapped your sparkly heels along with your favorite song. Tara and you harmonized seamlessly.

Let you lock me down tonight One of me is cute, but two, though? Give it to me, baby You make me wanna make you fall in love

Xavier had been checked out for most of the night, he was just happy to spend time with you. And the other hunters he worked with - since this was a Hunter’s Appreciation party. But getting to watch you dress up and hold you close while dancing in the dimly lit club, yeah, that made the socializing worth it. 

His brain had finally registered the lyrics and he almost choked on his drink. He coughed quietly and looked up at you. Your cheeks flushed from the alcohol, your tits bouncing while you dance with Tara. He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, but his eyes can’t help but wander. Two? Imagining a miniature version of you made Xavier’s heart pound against his ribcage.

I showed my friends, then we high-fived  Sorry if you feel objectified 

Xavier’s eyes widened and he nearly dropped his drink. He sets it down on the bar with a shaky hand. He tilts his head at you, as if asking what exactly did you show. He shook his head, surely not. It was just a song. But then again, you could “show” and he knew that. 

Xavier never asked you to send him nudes, but you were so easily turned on by him you spent weeks trying to figure out a way to level the playing field. Sure enough, sending him a picture from the shower did the trick. Of course, he matched your energy and offered to send his own. Which you didn’t reject. He definitely didn’t hold back after that. You’d send pictures and videos back and forth regularly. You could absolutely show Tara and you had zero doubts she would, indeed, high-five you.

Can't help myself, hormones are high Give me more than just some butterflies

You surprised yourself with how well you hit each note, your confidence growing. Your slightly hooded eyes stay locked on Xavier the whole song. You could feel the tension in the room grow. The hunger in Xavier’s eyes was evident. You watched as he slowly made his way to the side of the stage where you eventually climbed down.

Jeremiah was standing next to him, his cheeks flushed. Tara begged Xavier to invite him and after the performance - both you and Xavier finally figured out why. She launched herself into his arms, giggling. His whispered praises were almost lost in the club's noise. Xavier grabbed your waist and pulled you to him immediately. He leaned over to Jeremiah and whispered something before pulling you towards the exit. 

“Xavier! What about –”

“They’ll get a cab, we’re leaving.”

His tone was firm and his expression calm. You were almost concerned he was angry with you. Once outside, you expected to stop at the edge of the sidewalk to hail a cab, but Xavier took a sharp turn, heading into an alley behind the club.

“What are we –”

You couldn’t even finish speaking before Xavier’s lips captured yours. His hand reaches down to pull up your dress, his fingers swiftly pulling your panties aside to press against your clit. He presses you against the wall and his kiss turns frantic. You barely have a moment to moan, you breathe heavily, your hands wrapping around him and taking fistfuls of his sweater. 

Right as your legs start to shake, he pulls back and presses his forehead against yours.

“I need to get you home for this conversation.”

You scrunch your nose and look at him, confused. He nips at your bottom lip pulling another breathy moan from you.

“You are definitely cute, but two? That’d be exquisite.”

“No no no, higher!”

You pointed at the couch, urging Rafayel to get in the right spot to start recording. He huffed and crossed his arms.

“What about my artistic vision? Just because it’s a TikTok doesn’t mean it should look like shit. Let me work my magic!”

You put your hands on your hips and let him adjust the brightness of the overhead lights and try out different angles. You smile, knowing exactly what you’re up to. He’ll feel silly in about 15 minutes. 

You run a hand over your shorts and matching cropped hoodie, smoothing out the wrinkles from practicing. The pink color almost matches the blush on your cheeks - which was not just from practicing. You might be a bit nervous. 

You tighten your ponytail and press your lips, nibbling the corner of your mouth as you tap your foot impatiently. Rafayel finally looks up at you and rolls his eyes. 

“Sorry cutie, I know your best angles and it’ll be worth the wait.” 

He finally climbs up on the couch and looks at you through your phone. His brows knit together. He’s just now realizing you were right about where he needed to stand. You giggle while he puffs out a breath, his dusty purple fringe fluttering upwards. 

“Okay, are you ready?”

You nod enthusiastically before hopping over to your starting spot. 

“So you know what to do, right?”

“Why are you asking me that? Of course I know! I’m not a boomer.” 

You roll your eyes and grab your hairbrush, the best option you had for a makeshift microphone. You could have asked Rafayel to get you a real one but you didn’t want to ask him to put too much effort into this little video. A video you didn’t really plan on posting. 

Rafayel holds up three fingers and counts down before pointing at you. You smile and sway your hips, lip syncing to your latest obsession.

You make me wanna make you fall in love Oh, late at night, I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah, ah-ah Wanna try out some freaky positions?

You swiftly lie down on your stomach and bend your knees, pulling your ankles up as close to your head as possible. You reach back and lock your fingers behind your ankles. You look at the camera and smile with a flush.

Have you ever tried this one?

Rafayel almost drops your phone. He ends the recording and stares at you. His ears turned bright red and his eyes darken, turning an even deeper shade of purple. 

“I didn’t realize you were doing this trend…”

You roll over and cross your legs in front of you, resting your hands on your knees. You raise a brow and glare at him. 

“How many videos of this trend have you watched, Rafayel?”

His eyes widen and he coughs, straightening his back before hopping off the couch in one swift motion. He crosses his arms and looks down at you, his mouth settled into that adorably irritating pout. 

“I just know of the trend, not -- I don’t watch them like –”

You interrupt him, your voice a tad more raspy than you intended.

“Do you think the position isn’t worth it?”

The blush travels across his cheeks and he twists his nose, trying his best to look upset.

“That’s not what I said.” 

“Cause I have a few I could try. You know… for the video.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow and his eyes drop to your exposed midriff and bare legs. He clears his throat and drops his hands to his hips before turning to walk away. You exhale sharply - he’s being dense. Time to be more direct. 

“Like this one?”

He turns his head and watches you shift to face him. You lie back and kick your legs up. Your shoulders remain planted on the floor while your midsection is straight up, your hands planted on your back, your elbows braced against the floor to hold you up. Your legs tip over and your toes touch the floor. You keep your legs straight and spread them as wide as you are comfortable. Your shorts sink into your ass, the curve and shape now on full display. 

You hear a sharp intake of breath and a shuffling of feet. You try to lower to the ground once more, but feel his hands on the backs of your thighs. When you look up you see Rafayel lean over to look down at you.

“Did you really do this trend for the trend, or did you have other intentions?”

You smile up at him, your smug expression clear as day. He runs his hands over your ass and places his hands at either side of your nearly exposed pussy. You gasp quietly. 

“Yeah, you’re not uploading that video, but we are definitely trying these positions.”

He runs his thumbs across your center. You know he can feel how wet you are, doing those positions in front of him - positions you’ve desperately wanted to try with him - really got you going. He grinds against you, his cock digging into your ass, pulling a moan from you.

“Right fucking now.”

You didn’t even hear the front door to your apartment open, your music was turned up way too loud. And you were enjoying the mini concert you were putting on in the bathroom. 

You held the curling iron loosely and rocked your hips side to side. You could never stop yourself from dancing and singing along to this song. You were so excited when Tara told you she got tickets for Sabrina’s concert next month. You were listening to all of her albums on repeat to prepare. 

But tonight, you were going out with Sylus for a very special occasion - your one year anniversary. Well, it’s been over a year since you met him, but you both agreed not to celebrate when you actually met because it wasn’t exactly the best memory. 

Sylus gave you his black card to get pampered all day while he worked and you made the most of it. Getting your nails done, a facial, shopping and basically a full body wax. You spent extra time on your makeup since you had a few new products to try out. Your new red lipstick compliments your skin tone perfectly, its staying power would be tested later. 

The dress you picked was relatively simple, but god, did you feel sexy. The black bodice was fitted, hitting mid-thigh. The chest was very structured and pushed your girls up, giving the illusion of more cleavage than you actually had. Your favorite part though, were the sleeves. Black lace from shoulder to fingertip, the bell sleeves almost completely covering your hands. You paired the dress with new red pumps, which were still in the box on your bed.

Your hair was actually curling nicely and wasn’t falling flat immediately, so you felt on top of the world. You danced and sang at the top of your lungs. 

You had no idea, Sylus had already let himself into your apartment. A bouquet of red roses in his hand and a mechanical crow with glowing yellow eyes sitting on his shoulder. Sylus couldn’t wait to introduce you to Lilith. He had built her himself specifically for you. He knew it would only mean you’d send her to spy on him like he had Mephisto spy on you, but he could tell how much you started to love seeing his little metal companion. 

He heard the music immediately when he walked in. He closed the door quietly and dropped his suit jacket on the arm of the couch. He pointed to his jacket and Lilith flew over, settling on the fabric. He put the flowers on the coffee table and silently made his way to the door of your bathroom. A smile breaking out across his face as he realized you were singing. 

Adore me, hold me, and explore me Mark your territory Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one

His heart skipped a beat. Not only was your voice hypnotizing, but the lyrics… He had heard this song before, but couldn’t remember where. Probably on one of your drives with him, he tended to give you control of the music while he drove. It meant you were more likely to sing. He leaned against the doorframe just out of view. He could see you in the mirror, swaying your hips while you wrapped a strand of hair around the curling iron.

Adore me, hold me, and explore me I'm so fuckin' horny Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one

And that’s when Sylus’s willpower broke. He pushed the bathroom door open, still leaning against the door frame. He racked his eyes down your body, taking in your new dress.

“Sylus! Oh my god, you fucking scared me! When did you get here?”

Sylus lifted his gaze to meet yours. He smirked before reaching up to grab the door frame above him. He looked so much taller like this, staring at you with those eyes. 

“I was just enjoying the show, kitten.”

You put down the curling iron and turned it off. You fluffed your hair, letting the curls fall into loose waves. You tried not to stare at Sylus in the mirror. The top buttons of his shirt were undone and you could see his chest rising and falling faster and faster.

“I like the song. I am curious though… When you sing along, do you think of anyone?”

Your cheeks flush and you stare at him. You bite your lip as you smile. He lets go of the doorframe and pushes off to walk towards you. His hands wrap around your waist and he pulls you close. Your back flush against his chest, you could feel his erection press against your ass. 

“You know the answer to that question, Sy…” 

He smiled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Well, I’d say I’ve completed adoring and holding you, that just leaves exploring.”

“Sylus! We –”

He spins you around and grabs your waist. He leans down to kiss your neck, before dipping down to bite at the fullness of your chest. You arch your back and let your head fall back as you groan. Your hands reach out to hold onto his waist, while his wrap around to grab your ass.

“But you’re so fuckin' horny, sweetie. And I live to serve my one and only.”

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

[pedgito]

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 | Javier Pena x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | Authority looks good on him, but you think he'd look ever better on his knees.

author's note | written for @wannab-urs’s DMAMC 2025. forever and always a special thank you to @murder-wife for the beta.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!javier, dom!reader (but lbr, they’re both switch) obviously. reader has vague backstory (related to work), enemies to fwb, they fuck a lot oops, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), restraints, brat!javi as god intended, choking, coming untouched, edging for the greater good, amen.

word count — 6k

Javier Peña dominated every facet of his life.

Work. Home. It was no surprise with how easily he authoritates a room.

You’ve learned to mind your business at work, keeping to the file and lunch room. There, back, never anything less or more. It was a security net, a secondary salary unless your primary fell through—it hardly did, considering there was always dirt to dig up, but it was nice to have the additional income. One less stressor among the many. The road here had been long, sinuous and complicated and you were thankful for this overdue regularity in your life.

The one thing Javier hadn’t figured out about you was that you and him had more in common than he expected. Different sides of the same coin, you yearned for the control and command in whatever situation you found yourself in, liked the idea of you having power over the outcome. 

It was a high that you craved like nothing else.

“Morning,” He greets casually—you’ve known him for a distance for weeks now, only trading files in and out, turning in his paperwork, signing off on certain things without looking like a robot. Assess, find, file, repeat. It was monotonous, but it was easy, “what are we up to today, cups?”

That stupid fucking nickname. 

It was a running joke amongst your co-workers—he’d only caught on recently—watching how you plowed through a pot of coffee on your own, never re-using the same flimsy cup, always grabbing a fresh one. Your stack was only about six inches tall today, but you were running on mostly fumes.

“Fuck off,” You sneer, a lighthearted roll of your eyes, “this it?”

You yank the file from his grip as he spots the watch on your wrist—he analyzes, squints, grabbing your arm without acknowledgement as he speaks his mind.

“Pretty nice for a file clerk salary,” He frowns in consideration, “Cartier?”

He’s been prying recently. 

Javier didn’t have any evidence, but there was a deep suspicion. 

One, you were a mole—working for Escobar, infiltrating the DEA from the inside.

Or two, you were just a liar. 

Your story has never changed. You transferred from the states a few months ago. You were living at a small apartment in town that most of the staff seemed to hole up in during their transfers and long-term stays. Javier would occasionally catch you in the hallway, but he never talked. He was always pensive, stiff, odd.

You worked as a file clerk, did your job, and went home. That was it.

Except it wasn’t.

He’d figure it out. It would eat away at him until it did.

“It was a gift,” You retort, pulling your wrist from his grip as you sign on the paperwork inside the file and place it aside, fiddling with the jewelry on your wrist as you fit the watch back into place.

Also, not a lie. It was a gift…from a client.

You side eye him as he continues to stare before you finally get annoyed enough to bark at him.

“Are you lost, Peña?” You ask, “You’re holding up the line,” He peers over his shoulder at the few men that have gathered behind him, cigarettes perched on their lips and an expectation for him to hurry it up, “Keep it moving,” You tease with a nod of your chin.

He flicks at the stack of cups and sends them tumbling to the floor with a triumphant grin, watching as your mouth gaped, trying and failing to hold back the chuckle that rises in your chest.

It was a harmful back and forth—not quite enemies, not friends either.

Eventually, he finds himself with a dilemma. 

Weeks and weeks of nothing on the trail to take down Escobar and he’s grasping at straws, on edge, and you’re the easiest target for him to attack.

–

It was a simple trading of evidence for payment as you were gearing to make the drive home, helping out a co-worker under very specific terms that he wouldn’t approach you during work hours—he was almost positive his wife was cheating on him, begging you to dig up information on the supposed suspect. 

She was going on extended vacations for work, a traveling nurse with a bad habit of leaving evidence behind—though, with her, it seemed like less of a mistake than her poor husband thought it to be. Either way, you got the information and he handed the money over. 

It was one of the easier sides of your other job, less of a risk than running surveillance or being asked to break the law by government officials who were either corrupt or just desperate for information or a helpful break in a case.

Javier was being nosey, unfortunately. And you knew he was watching, turning your head to him as he approached when the coast was clear, cornering you at your door with a mere centimeter of distance between you both.

“Insubordination, really?” Javier bites, eyebrow raised in skepticism as he looks you over, not even a twitch of intimidation in your expression. “Carrillo would have your ass over this.”

You shake your head in amusement, pressing a gentle hand against his chest to shove him backwards, patting as if to console a child, “Javier, I don’t know what you think you saw, but you might need to take a break on these late nights at the office. They’ll drive you crazy.”

“Crazy?” Javier echoes, “Estás loca,”

There’s a certain jeer to his tone, stress collecting in his furrowed brow that helps you figure out where to attack, “Are you okay?” You ask with a serious tone, “Do I need to report you to Carrillo?”

“Traidora,” He remarks, “You think I can’t tell?”

You tilt your head in question, ignoring his own.

“I haven’t had a break in this shit in weeks, chasing a fuckin’ ghost—do you work for him?”

There it was, the lapse in judgment you were waiting for.

“Who is it?” You ask, “What are you after?”

He gives you a name, a subtle amusement to his tone like you should already know. It doesn’t immediately ring a bell and it shouldn’t, considering what he was accusing you of was the furthest thing from the truth.

“Carrillo knows what I do,” You tell him honestly, “So, go ahead. Tell him. I dare you.”

You knew it was a mix of work stress and whatever demons Javier was harboring in the backseat of his mind, a job that riddles you with guilt and what-ifs, it tends to boil over.

Whatever—you’d do him this one favor.

“Te verás estúpido.” 

It shuts him up, thankfully. 

–

You’ve got the file on his desk by eight o’clock the next morning—a long night of extensive research that led you toward a full file of usual information, whereabouts, alias, anything that could help out, even just a little. You’re pouring up a fresh cup of coffee when he spots it, dropping his bag into his chair and picking up the file like it was a spectacle, peering around all sides before he flips it open, a pink sticky note pressed into the first page.

His nose twitches, like a sniffle as he crumples up the note and shoves it into his back pocket, his eyes peering up to lock with yours from across the room, like he sensed your gaze. A smile gracing your face as you stirred your coffee, nothing out of the ordinary.

He approaches you near lunch, the file room emptying as people are heading toward the break room, but Javier catches you at the perfect time, back turned and he’s slapping the file on the desk behind you with a distinct clearing of his throat. 

“You wanna explain this?” Javier inquires, fingertips spread across the file as he slides it toward you.

You stare him down, a silent challenge as his hands settle against his hips.

You push the file back, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He digs the pink note from his pocket and flattens it out, turning over a closed file to match up the messy cursive handwriting, “Is that not your handwriting?”

You quickly snap the file closed and pick it up, shoving it into his chest. 

“Take the damn file, Peña,” You order him, a sheer darkness to your gaze that glosses over, compelling Javier to take the file without another word, “I’m not a traitor, okay?”

Javier chews at his bottom lip in thought, taking a quick glimpse through the file once more, impressed by the collection of information that has had him stalled for weeks, handed to him on a silver platter.

“You wanna grab lunch?” He asks casually, peering up at you from the file, a smile curling under his thick mustache, “My treat.”

“It fucking better be,” You remark.

–

It starts that way, a gradual comradery shared over lunch and late nights, moving from twenty-four hour dine-in spots to the comforts of your own apartments, trading off in a discombobulated schedule.

A big break in the case called for celebration, having finally caught the one member of Escobar’s entourage that they had been after for months, having been helping Javier behind the scenes with no expectation of credit, thankful that it didn’t intersect with much of your other work.

“So, is it usually cheating couples?” Javier asks curiously, shooting him a look of warning, “C’mon, chiquita, I’m curious.”

You shrug, closing the file as you tossed it aside, stretching back on the couch with your open beer in hand, enjoying the soft, plushiness of Javier’s couch.

“Family, sometimes,” You add, “And strangers, more often than you think.”

Javier makes a small hmph sound through closed lips, scratching as his cheek as his thumb circles the lip of the bottle, oddly reminiscent of something far too dangerous to allow your mind to wander towards this late at night, three bottles in, and sleep deprivation on the rise.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Javier asks after a long period of silence, still repeating the same subconscious motion to the bottle as it sits between his thighs, legs outstretched and his left knee knocking against your own that were curled underneath you know.

“Give me a minute,” You murmur, eyes falling closed as down the rest of you beer and place it on the floor, your hand failing to support you as it slips from the cushion, sending you tumbling to the floor at Javier’s feet, laughing immediately at your drunken clumsiness as he leans forward in concern, placing the beer bottle on the table as he reached for you.

“Shit, you’re a sloppy drunk,” He jokes, subtly pushing your hair back to check for injury, a sudden charge to the air as you kneel between his legs, his chest hovering above, his tongue peeking out to lick his bottom lip, “is it always that bad?”

You laugh again, a soft snort through your nose as you shake your head.

“Wouldn’t you love to know,” You remark, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he chuckles, the faint smell of barley on his breath as you’ve come to realization that not only had his hand stayed on your face, but the other had joined—it was a silent yearning that Javier couldn’t find the balls to act on, so you do it for him, “—are you gonna ask to fuck me yet or not?”

“Is that what you want?” Javier counters, “You want me to fuck you?”

“I mean,” His thumb grazed along your bottom lip, a subtle pull that has you rising to press the palms of your hands against his thigh, willing to crawl into his lap if he pulled you further into him, but instead you hovering back, a challenging gaze and smirk only our lips, “unless you want me to fuck you?”

Javier’s face pinches together in confusion, amused but still wholeheartedly confused.

“You didn’t say no,” You tease, another beat of silence as he remains undecided before you’re answering him, “yes—I want you to fuck me, Javi.”

And, god, does he.

It’s messy—sweaty, hot, sticky, and nothing near graceful.

Javier fucks like you expected he would—because, despite your best efforts, it had been a thought to cross your mind.

He ravishes, controls, demands. He’s insatiable and greedy, never enough. One orgasm, a second, a third before you’re begging, pleading for relief. He likes to work himself up—he gets you first with his fingers, then his mouth, eventually sliding the head of his cock against the seam of your soaked, oversensitive folds and catching against your entrance before he slides in with a deep, guttural groan. 

But, he can’t have all the fun. 

You eventually wrestle him into the cushions, on his back as he grips at your thighs, both of your hands clutched against the arm of the couch and the back, Javier entranced with you, his eyes showing as much amongst his needy, wandering hands. And he tries to hold off—he does, but his climax hits him with gusto, leaning up to levy the dominance between you both as he fucks up into you, his foot sliding to the ground to steady him, face buried in your chest as he comes inside of you, something you two hadn’t discussed beforehand and comes as an immediately apology from Javier, his cheek pressed against your breasts as you slump back into the couch, leaving Javier to catch his breath as he leaned against you.

“Don’t worry,” You assure him with a tired laugh, “I would have let you know if I wasn’t okay with it before you did it.”

Exhausted, Javier chuckles too.

It was the first of many late night meetings—some work, mostly play. Javier finds himself a little more emboldened as time goes on, interrogating you like a suspect after a long, eventful day.

“Javi,” You sigh, “your dick is still inside of me and you want to talk about work?”

Javier shrugs impishly from his position beneath you, sitting in his lap as he leaned against his headboard. 

He leans forward, pressing a wet kiss against the column of your throat before his kisses trail, teeth dragging against your neck followed by another wet, sloppy kiss. 

Well, now you were curious.

You grip his hair, a gentle tug to pull his head back to look at you, a profound glint in his eyes at the action.

Speak, you command silently.

“I’m just saying—if the FBI knew what you could do, they’d be killing each other to get to you,” He explains, “but you wanted to be a file clerk?”

“I like the ease of it,” You speak through the gentle caress of his hands over your ass, rocking your hips to a slow rhythm, “simple, uncomplicated—fuck, that,” You sigh, head falling into his waiting hand as he cradles your face, watching you through a half-lidded gaze as you start to succumb to the throes of pleasure, “feels so good—I just,” You blink through the haze, a little breathless as you speak, “working freelance, you know, off the books…it’s easier.”

“And risky,” He warns, “without protection—“

“Who said I wasn’t protected?” You smile, releasing your grip on his hair as he slowly flips you underneath him, pulling out briefly to adjust the duvet , kicking it down the bed as he slid into you, knees pulled high over his hips as he gripped the sheets beside your head, thrusting his hips at an impossible to focus pace.

“Be—besides,” You begin weakly and Javier offers a mocking laugh, low and full of pure adoration, even if he’d never admit it, “I’d get too pricey for you.”

“Oh, should I be paying you?”

You stop, a gawking look on your face as you steady him at his shoulders, pausing his movements, “Did you think fucking me was payment? Oh, bebé, no.”

Javier balks for a moment, in disbelief that his sexual expertise and suave looks suddenly weren’t as valuable as he thought.

“I’m fucking with you,” You tell him through gritted teeth, your hand curling around the back of his neck, eyes locked on his as you offered him a sultry smirk, a subtle twitch of your lips, “but, you do owe me.”

And he’d pay up, eventually.

—

Javier’s things start to take shape in your apartment without a word—a spare toothbrush for the nights he was too tired to leave, a spare set of clothes—maybe two. You also always had his favorite beer in your fridge and a spare pack of cigarettes sitting on top of your microwave. It was little touches, ignored and unaddressed but he was like a constant presence in your space.

You were more secluded, careful—but Javier didn’t mind.

He just gets comfortable, though you both had clear boundaries, a strict line that neither of you crossed.

Feelings, out of the question. 

And honestly? Not a problem.

Javier was a good friend and even greater fuck, but he would make a terrible partner, you both knew it.

And you can feel that urge, he wants that effortless, full submission that he won’t explicitly ask for—it’s what he used to, women falling so easily to their knees and begging for him, it, whatever he had to offer.

But, you see both sides of his personality. He could be commanding and in full control of a situation, but also had a tendency to let his guard down…just a bit, enough for you to pry your way in and settle there.

It was two battling personalities, one you’ve learned to subdue with a valiant effort, meld yourself to any situation, whatever was required.

Javier follows you back that day, disregarding his own apartment for yours, in a constant fog of distraction all day. Between the news, the ramping up of Escobar’s antics, and the pressures of the higher ups weighing on his and many others shoulders, he just can’t seem to find a way to relax. 

Even as you lay in bed, slung over him in your near nakedness, your white button up still covering your frame as he squeezes at the soft flesh of your hips, grinding you down against his cock, half-hard for the last fifteen minutes. He’s frustrated, evidently so.

“I’m sorry,” He apologizes, pulling away from your lips with closed eyes, rolling onto his back as he rubs his thumb and middle finger against his temples.

You’ve gotta pull his mind away, leaning up on your palms to follow him, raising your leg over his lap to straddle him.

He chuckles, reaching for his nearly empty pack of cigarettes, plucking one out lazily before he’s tossing the box aside, but you’re quickly snatching the cigarette away and tossing aside, pressing your hands against his chest with an expectant look.

“What the fuck?” He gawks, looking you up and down and toward the floor, watching you shrug in response. 

He moves to push up, but you push back, the distribution of weight giving you the upper hand as he falls back against the sheets, “Alright, real funny.”

“Close your eyes,” You urge him gently, obvious skepticism on his face but eventually he succumbs, throwing his hands up in defeat as he closes his eyes, suspicious to the various shuffling noises as you lean to the side, digging in drawer of your bedside table until you find the item you’re looking for, a distinct clink of metal that Javier recognizes too late, the metal tightening around his wrists and tangled through the loop of the bed frame slats.

“The fuck are these—” He shakes his fists, pointless, “did you sneak my cuffs out of the office?”

You shake your head, slowly unbuttoning your shirt, a clear distraction that Javier tries to fight.

“They’re mine,” You tell him, simultaneously enjoying the slow rock of your hips as it seems to have found a somewhat solution to his issue, wiggling underneath you at the movements, almost urging you to quicken your pace, insistent.

Javier cocks his head in both a show of question and defiance, pressing for more.

“What?” You feign innocence, peeling the fabric over the last button as you lean forward, cradling his face with your hands as you give him a slow, explorative kiss, your tongue slipping into his open mouth, chasing you as you pull away, “Citizen’s arrests are just as legal here as they are in the states, Peńa.”

“So, this is an arrest,” He counters, licking at his lips, tugging once more at the chains.

“Do you want it to be?” You tease, hands pressed against your thighs now, finding amusement at his obvious frustration, knowing that he was completely helpless in this situation.

“Tell me you have the key.”

Your eyes widen at the sudden realization, “Oh, fuck—”

Panic rises, but you quickly quell his worries, “Just kidding,” You reply with a chipper tone, picking the key up from the table while dangling it in front of his face, “you want it?”

Javier nods, yanking against the cuffs weakly.

You contemplate, face scrunching up as you think. 

“Are you sure?” You question, glancing down at the hard line of his cock defined in his jeans, rubbing your palm against the bulge in the denim, gently pulling at the button to pop them open, “I think you enjoy it.”

You place the key at the center of his bare chest, nodding toward it.

“Beg,” You tell him, voice steady and completely serious, the eerily void of emotion that has Javier thinking you might be joking, attempting to get a rise out of him, he laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” He says, but doesn’t explicitly ask.

Your eyebrows raise expectantly.

A battle of silence.

“Oh, I had that file I forgot the other day,” You switch topics, climbing off of him as you slip your unbuttoned shirt down your shoulders, revealing the bold colors and thin lace, material that hugged every curve of your body, a dark crimson red, sheer material leaving little to imagine—though, Javier had enough familiarity that he didn’t need to guess.

“Wait,” He interrupts, his hands balled into fists as you turn to him, one knee settling into the edge of the bed with the file in hand, looking at him….waiting, “come here,” He beckons, perking up as you toss the file aside and walk toward the head of the bed, fingers hovering over the key, “no—no,” He quickly interjects, “like—up here,” He explains vaguely, a weak attempt at asking you to sit on his face—he could come like that, he thinks. Eventually break you down enough. But, you remain ignorant to his demands, waiting for those specific words.

In the entirety of your midnight hook-ups with Javier he had never said please. It was a forbidden word in his vocabulary, far too confident and expectant, deserving to be knocked down a peg.

Besides, it was clearly working, the visible flush in his skin as you began to back away, his writhing against the sheets having shift his jeans further and further down his hips—never having been so thankful that Javier Peńa was a strict believer in going commando, silently helping the aid of his jeans down his legs with your bottom lip between your teeth, a predatory gaze and teasing touch at the inside of his thighs as you toss his jeans away, completely naked and at your control.

“Are you serious?” Javier asks, not an ounce of shyness when it came to his body, cock hard and leaking from the tip as he watched you turn, ignoring him as you grabbed the file and began to flip through, reading out the information as if he wasn’t even there, “Is this me owing you one?”

If there was one thing you knew about Javier, ignoring him was not the path to take.

Beg, your eyes demand.

Not a fuckin’ chance, his grimace retorts. 

You twirl in the spinning desk chair, skimming silently through the papers now as Javier startle to unravel, eventually leaving you to get antsy, wandering around your room to fix the curtains, fold and tuck away a few loose pieces of clothing, only acknowledgement the small grunt he makes as you turn your backside to him, ass in the air as you picked up the discarded cigarette from earlier—he’s never needed one so bad in his entire life.

You reach for his lighter, placing it between your lips as you ignite the flame and press it to the end, awaiting the amber glow before you toss the lighter aside.

“You don’t even smoke,” He gripes, “You want me to say please? Is that it?”

You pull the cigarette from your lips and listen, approaching him so your stomach was at eye level, flicking the cigarette in the ashtray you had purchased specifically for him and cigarette after sex ritual, and he sighs, “Please,” It’s deadpan and lackluster at best, but you appreciate the effort, “baby, seriously.”

You shake your head in dismay, stubbing out the cigarette as Javier frowned.

“I’m helping,” You remind him, “I mean, I got your mind away from work, didn’t I?”

It was a slow but eventual realization that, yeah, you had. A hard task for even him.

You slowly climb over him on the mattress, dragging your hand along his chest and down his stomach, fingertips gazing against his pelvic bone, resting against his thigh.

“So, you’re going to beg,” You explain, leaning close enough to his lips that he can taste the remnants of smoke on your breath, “and I want you to, really, really mean it.”

He feels vulnerable, he is—but, he’s just desperate enough that he’ll let it slide.

For you.

He’s quiet for a stretch of time, watching as you toyed with the idea of touching his cock, watching it twitch with the slightest of touch, feeling like one tug would have him coming in your hand, a pathetic whine to follow. But, he focuses, lips parting as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, velvety soft skin as you caressed the girth of him, neatly trimmed hair at the base the peeked up toward his stomach, his tan skin almost glowing under the soft yellow light of the room, knowing you were throbbing just as bad as he was, feeling the needy pulse under your palm as you jerk your hand slow, from base to tip and back, rubbing your thumb over the slit at the head of his cock, so tantalizing you could take him in your mouth right now and take the load of him down your throat.

“Baby,” His voice relaxed but his body telling you otherwise, “Oh, fuck—you gotta go a little faster, tighter,” He directs, and you apply a minuscule amount of pressure to tease, “like that, like that,” he chants, his chest rising and falling as his brow furrowed, yanking roughly against the chain, your eyes catching at the movement. They were loose enough to avoid any discomfort, you were careful. It was mostly mind games, if Javier wanted out he could probably slip his hands through with enough concentration, but he wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on you.

He’s getting closer, the staggered breaths and soft whimpers that were like melodies, desiring nothing more than to give into your own temptation and sink down onto his cock, riding him until he was mindless. 

You let go, much to his dismay, “Fuck,” He groans, eyes peeling open to look at you, “you enjoy this, don’t you?”

“A little,” You shrug, giving him a fair chance out, “do you want me to stop?”

“Where does that leave me?”

What are the consequences, he means.

“I’ll uncuff you, we’ll get dressed. I give you your file and you go home.” 

You reach for his face, rubbing your thumb along his bottom lip, the unavoidable twitch of his tongue as he instinctively licks, your own lips parting in desire, the enveloping heat of his both pulling the digit in.

“Or, you beg for it hard enough and I’ll let you fuck me.”

A real, authentic plea. That’s what you wanted. One derived from desperation and primal need.

You straddle his hips slowly, pulling at the tied bows at your hip keeping your underwear in place, pulling at the thin ribbon until they loosen and fall, balling up the fabric in one hand while you hook your hand in the strap of your bra, unfastening it with ease, tossing the garment aside completely.

You position your cunt along the shaft of his cock, silently tapping at his chin until he opens his mouth expectantly, shoving the discarded fabric of your panties into his mouth without a word, an obvious smirk on his face at the action as you try to stifle the short giggle at his eagerness to accept.

“I think you really underestimate me, Peña,” You taunt, canting your hips as it drags along his cock, coating it in the sticky slick that has gathered between your thighs at your own neediness, suffering in silence and wishing for him to break, nearly caving in yourself, “Stop being so fucking stubborn all the time.”

His eyes roll back as the bulbous head of his cock catches at your entrance, nearly slipping in at how easily you slide against him, raising his foot to the mattress in an attempt to do so, his remark muffled behind the fabric, that heady taste of you on his tongue.

He’d come if he wasn’t so frustrated, but he’s there—right fucking there, the pace of your grinding quickening as you grip the balled up fabric in his mouth, using it as leverage as his eyes squeeze shut, the familiar coiling in his gut that you recognize too, slowing down considerably as you rip the fabric from his mouth.

“Say it,” You demand, slightly breathless, “just say it, Javi.”

Fuck it, he can’t do this anymore.

“Please, bebé. Please,” He begs, “this is fucking torture.”

That was the tone you were looking for, the shakiness to his voice that oozed desperation.

You nod and he’s almost expectant that you’ll undo his cuffs and let him have his way with you, but that wasn’t the plan.

Instead, you sink down onto his cock without another word, a long drawn-out groan from Javier followed by your soft moan of satisfaction, riding him almost desperately, the sound of skin and against, the sticky heat and humidity of Colombia seeping through the open window of your apartments, you both nearly delirious with overdue release. 

His lip is pulled tight between his teeth, eagerly trying to match your hurried, erratic bounce of your hips as you claw at his chest, marks he’d admire for days to follow.

“Be realistic, baby,” He moans, “even like this you know that pussy belongs to me,” Your eyes flick up, greeted by the raise of his brows, tongue peeking between his lips with confidence.

Even now, he still has the nerve.

“Yeah,” You agree, egging him on with that salacious, vexatious tone, “Does it?”

He admires the slick mess at the base of his cock, angling your hips to grind down against him, cursing at his inability to grab and touch, flip you over and coax you into your climax with a twitch of his thumb, an easy fix.

Javier, unfortunately, was not a man to be tamed. 

He was yours, but he’s never been solely yours.

You were special, though. He knew that.

He just needed a refresher.

“Seems a little unfair,” You shrug, his impatience growing and evident, “don’t you think?”

Your finger drags up his chest, inch by inch until the full expanse of your palm encircles his throat, his chin lifting in silent permission.

“Say it,” You counter, “come on, Peña.”

He chuckles, the sly fucker.

“Tell me this cock belongs to me,” You whisper low, close to his ear as your teeth drag along his jaw, “—that no one can make you come like I do,” You squeeze at his throat, a weak noise falling from his lips as his eyes roll back, “ and how pathetic and needy you look when I let you come inside of me.”

You squeeze once more, gentle but demanding.

He squeaks quietly, yanking weakly at the chains, “It’s all yours, bebé—fuck, it’s—right there, it’s—”

“Beg,” You urge, his mouth parts, breathing increasing more rapidly as you echo yourself, his head nodding instinctively in a desperation for relief, “beg and you can come, Peña.”

He does, a plethora of please—baby, please falling from his lips as you slide off of him, allowing him to come untouched, watching his dick twitch wildly, come coating his stomach in thick spurts as he groans, throaty and wet, eventually falling slack on the bed beneath you as you undo the cuffs without a word, a soft whine releasing from his chest as he arms fall to his side.

It takes a while, several minutes, eyes closed with a gentle and repressive touch of your thumb against his forehead, brushing away a loose strand of his hair, waiting for the haze to wear off.

“How do you do that?” Javier asks, returning the touch as his hand wraps around your wrist.

“What?” You counter with a playful smile, his tired one spreading across his features.

“You’re like…some kind of bruja,” He jokes lightheartedly, “No one’s ever—I’ve never let someone take control like that.”

“You look really pitiful when you beg,” You tease, “it drives me insane.”

You soothe his ego with a kiss, leaning over him to reach for his pack of cigarettes, squealing as his arms pull you back, swatting the contents out of your hands, wrestling you back down into the sheets with ease, your own body fighting a similar exhaustion.

“I wasn’t wrong,” Javier remarks, “estás loca.”

He sinks between your legs without a word, reminding you that he wasn’t a man to be bested, fingers stuffed inside of you as he pumped with an expertise that came with familiarity, learning what made your body tick—Peña was goddamn expert.

He’d rendered you speechless, fingers gripping the sheets, wriggling and whining without a tangible thought on your mind, words lost.

“Pobrecita,” He mocks, “come on—use your words.”

You hum weakly, wistful but hard-headed, “Make me,”

Fortunately, like you, Peña was always up for a challenge.

-

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

[sirxlla]

Laying Hoes Hose 😉

----------------------------------------------------

Warnings: NSFW, fluff

Prompt: getting interrupted while having sex with Buck

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

When it came to Buck his entire apartment was up for grabs when he had sex with you. The shower, the kitchen table, the couch, the hallway. You get it, the whole lot was up for grabs. No one could see in due to the tint on the windows so in his mind there was no reason to not push your face against the window and screw you from behind.

You'd never be upset for anyone cause of their body count, you knew his was high but holy fuck did it give him experience. This man could rearrange your insides multiple times over for what felt like hours before even thinking about finishing. His stamina was unreal, of course that came from the fire department but also his experience, he knew how to pace himself.

You threw your head back with a moan as you panted, him expertly hitting right where you needed him to over and over. Buck's hips clapped against your ass causing the sound echoed across the apartment. He smirked as you whined and reached behind you for him.

Buck's apartment was like a goddamn merry go round and people came and went as they pleased so getting alone time like this was rare but when it happened? God, was he good at this.

He grabbed a handfull of you hair with a small tug to bring your head back and your lips to his so you both could share a very sloppy/steamy kiss as you panted in his mouth.

You were so fucking close and it felt like cloud nine when there was a knock on the door. He ignored it and kept his pace against you, bringing you both to a climax was more important to him right than whatever was at the door. His lips kissed and bit at your neck and shoulders.

"Baby, I'm gonna-" You whined before the door was banged on again and again.

"We know you're in there, Evan!" Chimney yelled.

"Open the door, we brought refreshments!" Eddie added before they kept knocking over and over. Buck was annoyed and groan as he pulled away slowly which caused you to make the same noise.

"Baby, I-" He started and apology as he quickly pulled his sweatpants back on to answer the door.

"I know." You panted out, a complete mess for him and he'd've know than more than he already did if his friends weren't so annoyingly persistant.

"Give me a minute, Guys. It's a mess, I-" He gave you a moment as he stalled his friends.

"We don't care about what it looks like!" Eddie responed with a laugh almost on hos tongue.

"Come on, the beers getting cold!" Chimney yelled after, Buck looked back at you as you cleaned up the pair of your clothes before getting some clothes to go shower. Once you were in the shower, he let them in.

"Finally, my Grandma moves faster than you...and she's dead." Chimney joked before hearing the shower.

"Oh, you got company?" Eddie smirked as he spoke but it falls as he sees Chimney's face.

"Oh- Oh, Dude, I'm so sorry. Maddie told me to not come over, I didn't think it was cause you were spending time with your girl, should we go?" Chimney asked feeling a bit shitty.

"No, it's fine. You're already here. We were just wrapping up anyways." Buck added with a kind and reassuring smile, of course he would've liked to continue with you but he knew that ship had sailed and he knew you knew that too. You two had been interrupted countless times via emergencies and such.

"Did we interrupt anything?" Eddie asks a bit teasing but a bit guilty.

"Yeah but it's nothing." Buck tried to reassure his friends more.

"Nah, thats not nothing. I knew when Maddie and I get interrupted-"

"I don't really wanna hear about you banging my sister." Buck replied to make them laugh and tease the tension with tge very true statement.

You cleaned yourself up, showered and every other thing you needed to do. It was hard to get out of the shower once you were in there sometimes, like it was just so calming and serene but all good thing come to an end.

Once you had got dressed in one of Buck's graphic tees that he usually only wore at home. You hadn't bothered to look at the shirt when you hastily grabbed it earlier to get into the shower. You had pulled it on before reading it and now you had to stiffle a laugh.

"Laying hoes hose." It says with a pinup female firefighter winking on it, the word hoes crossed out to spell hose like a fire hose.

"Oh, my god." You laughed, you didn't even know he had this in his dresser. There was only that shirt and it wasnt like Chimney and Eddie didnt know you or your humor and in their minds they'd probably think it was yours or something you bought for Evan.

You came out and sat next to Buck, you know that Buck would make it up to you later so it sucked but it was what it was.

"Evening, N/N. We're sorry if we-" Chimney still felt the need to apologize.

"It's okay, I'm used to it." Acting like it was nothing because at this point you had started to try to accept it.

"No, you shouldnt have to. I kinda feel really bad. I know you and Buck are super busy with work and babysitting Jee..." Chimney continues.

"It's alright, Buck'll make it up to me later, Right?"

"Right." Buck blushed a bit and smiled and squeezed your thigh, he looks down and sees your shirt before laughing, he'd forgot about that shirt. The other guys look at it as well and start laughing, the tension was once again evaporated into thin air.

-> Masterlist <-

[ha-im-gonna-die-alone]

#infamous second son#gifs#cutiessss#god the acting here! beautiful! jfbhjrbgbtr#aside: this is the second instance lately where I've noticed someone has pretty hands#Delsin=pretty hands#Josh Helman=pretty hands#man#also I love Reggie- still waiting on that secret ending where they say 'sike' and he turns up with studio/canned laughter and all#It happened offscreen which means he is OK and no one would be mad- please just do it vhfbvhbv#ASIDE/talking about a 10 year old game: Now I get the impression this game was rushed or something??#but I kinda wish they'd explored a bit more of the brothers' lore/history#and I also wish Delsin/Fetch could have had a bit more connection/banter there#since I feel their relationships with their respective brothers/the path they ended up on are echos of one another#just....ya know! it would be interesting to compare/contrast I think#and like I DUNNO! when (I played good boy) he takes responsibility for setting Fetch and Eugene on a better path#that felt like the influence of the kindness of his brother to me!!!! who obviously is always ultimately in his corner#we get a strong sense of an older brother used to taking care of the younger one; are their parents dead (?)#I got that vibe/implication but like....cannot remember it specifically mentioned. We're told fetch's parents turned her out basically?#but like....Delsin??? I dunno! WHat happened! I feel like a lot of the game would make sense if parent death was blamed on conduits or s/t#a bit cliche but it'd give us some lore and be quick- otherwise we gotta do a lot of 'reading into' that's harder to connect with-#-since it happens externally to our characters- ya feel me???#(I dunno maybe my issues there would mitigated by a better understanding of the infamous-verse- which I lack)#still-as a stand alone exp I have questions and desire answers!#also that scene where REggie holds him at the beginning!!! AUUUUGH! ok now I'm ranting#like both reggie and delsin show a fear of conduits/powers (again makes me wonder about their experiences with them)#could easily be just because of general public perception/propaganda of conduits as 'bad' etc...#but specifically how Delsin seems to panic at the beginning made me wonder about it...it feels trauma-sourced on some level#reggie seems to know how to handle that panic too! like they've been through this before#implies to me delsin may have had panic attacks in the past (@kobochajunkbox)

You do realize when we “hit the town”, there’s a fair chance the town’s gonna, you know… hit back?

[airaatsu]

Heyy could you maybe write smut about min-su x fem!reader x se-mi? Where maybe Thanos like made fun of him before for being a virgin, and min-su now feels insecure so reader and se-mi decided to comfort him and it ends w them having a threesome?

No pressure if you don't wanna write/don't feel comfortable!! Have a good day/night ! :)

«—Se-mi x Fem!Reader x Min-su—»

⁍A Helping hand⁌

Summary: Minsu is getting bullied by Thanos and his lackey about being a virgin. Now it's up to you and Se-mi to change that;)

A/N: I wrote this in a hurry, so please tell me if there are any errors in my writings! This is also going to be the first fic I post here, so enjoy!<3 (ALSO! I got the MDNI banner from cafekitsune! Many thanks♡♡)

Warnings: NSFW, oral(fem receiving), p in v, quickie in the bathroom, SMUTTTTT

“Min-su.” Se-mi called. You both walked back to your corner of the place after receiving dinner from the guards. “What’s wrong?” You asked, taking a seat beside Min-su, who just stared down at the food placed on his lap. He looked a bit more down than usual.

“What, did one of those assholes over there pick on you again?” Se-mi nodded her head in the direction where Thanos and that annoying lackey of his are before taking her seat beside you, taking a bite on her bread with a slight frown on her face. Her frown only deepened when he didn’t respond, she was about to stand up and have a word with the two if You hadn’t held her back.

“Hey, calm down.” You let out a sigh before turning to face Min-su. “Alright, what happened? What did they do now?” You asked, letting go of Se-mi’s arm once she sat back down beside you. “It’s alright.. they didn’t do anything.” Min-su replied, opening the plastic wrapper of the bread before taking a bite.

“Then what?” Se-mi looked like she was getting a bit impatient, she was practically shooting daggers at Thanos and Nam-gyu. Flipping them off whenever they looked her way. “They know I’m a virgin..” Min-su whispered, his shoulders tensing up a bit now that he confessed what was bothering him. “Okay.. and?” You followed, raising a brow at him. “Nothing’s wrong with being a virgin, Min-su. The only people who worries about that kind of thing are those brainless idiots back there.” Se-mi added. Pointing at Thanos and Nam-gyu, who seemed too engrossed with their conversations to notice..

“They said I would die being a virgin, especially in this place.” Min-su continued, now fidgeting at his the end of his jacket sleeves. You and Se-mi shared a look before a small smirk formed on your lips. “We can change that.” Se-mi smirked, finishing her own juice box with one go. “W-What? What do you mean?” That seemed to catch his attention enough, staring at the both of you with wide eyes. You could tell how surprised he is. “Well... How about this.” You leaned in closer, your breath tickling the skin of his neck. “Meet us at the bathroom later when the lights turn off. M’kay?” You leaned back, chuckling at how adorable he looked right now, all flushed and flustered. “You okay there, Min-su? You look as red as a tomato.” Se-mi teased, her smirk turning into a grin.

After that exchange, time flew fast, before you know it, you’re already stuffed in one of the bathroom stalls. Sitting on Min-su’s lap, for someone who seemed so timid all the time, You never knew how strong his grip could be. His hands were firmly holding you by your hips, keeping you seated on his cock while he sat on the closed toilet seat. You would’ve teased him by now, how he looked so adorable even like this, whimpering at the slightest movement and touches if it weren’t for Se-mi who has you moaning and gasping, she was kneeling down between your legs. Keeping your legs open with her hands on your thighs, sucking and licking your overstimulated clit in a way that has you coming over and over. Pair that with Min-su being inside you, thrusting up into your tight heat while those adorable whimpers left his lips.

“She feels good, doesn’t she, Min-su?” Se-mi pulled back, replacing her lips with her thumb. Rubbing you sensitive bundle of nerves while Min-su continued to fuck you. His head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent while also trying ro suppress his own noises. “Look at you, we’d have our own mini waterfall by now from how wet you are.” Se-mi laughed, pulling her hand away just when your about to cum again before standing up. Making you whine out. “Se-mi.. w-why—” “Shh, don’t worry, princess.” She cut you off, letting her pants fall on the floor, pooling down at her feet. Her hand ran through your hair before stopping on the back of your head, gently guiding your head towards her crotch. “What are you waiting for, princess? Go ahead and suck like a good girl.” She smirked, placing her right leg on your shoulder to give you more access. Too fucked out to say anything, you just complied, pressing your lips on her pussy, your hands eventually finding their way on his hips, holding them to keep you steady on Min-su’s lap. You sucked and licked, practically making out with her pussy. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head whenever Min-su would hit that spot inside you with his cock. Moaning into her pussy, sending vibrations through her, making Se-mi moan out as well.

“T-Tight..” Min-su whispered, groaning into your neck as he continued to thrust up into you. “Hm? You like it when it’s the two of us, huh, Princess?” Se-mi cooed. Biting her lower lip, sucking in a breath as she grinded against you faces. Bucking her hips against your lips. You couldn’t do anything but moan and whimper, you didn’t think having a threesome with both Se-mi and Min-su would feel this good.. this experience just proved you wrong. Min-su’s cock felt so good inside you, hitting that sweet spot over and over.. it made your brain turn into mush, and with Se-mi grinding into your mouth like this, it made you see stars. “Fuck, yeah, just like that.. you’re doing so good, Princess.. just a bit more.” She murmured.

“’m gonna cum..” Min-su whimpered, his thrusts getting more erratic, “M-Me too.” Se-mi breathes out. And with a few more thrusts. You were cumming on Min-su’s lap. Making a mess on his cock. Moaning softly when you felt his warm seed fill you up. His dick twitching inside of you. While Se-mi came on your mouth, making a mess on your face. Well, you looked and is too fucked out to even care.. let’s just hope the guards or other players won’t find this mess you made in this stall.. the guard standing guard outside probably already heard your shameless moans and groans. Oh well, not like they’d care.

What’s important now, is that Min-su is no longer a virgin, no reason for Thanos and Nam-gyu to tease him now.^^

[hanniebaeee]

The Wedding Heist

Danceracha x fem!reader

Warnings: some threats

Genre: Best friends to lovers?, fluff, angst

Summary: Your parents are forcing you to marry a man you don't love or even begin to think of a life partner. You're being kept locked at your home, and your best friends (well, it's obviously more than friendship here) are planning a wedding heist - stealing the bride on the wedding day!

a/n: Also from a dream I had 🤭 Also I don't hate Yeonjun (or me) - just a character in the story !!

The smell of something burning filled the boys’ apartment, but Minho barely noticed as he stabbed furiously at the wok with his spatula. Two other pots boiled on the stove, one very close to spilling over.

But he didn’t seem to care. If he didn't keep moving, he was pretty sure he’d implode.

In the living room, Felix was a mess - blotchy tear-streaked cheeks, and brownie crumbs everywhere. He sat cross-legged on the sofa with a giant plate of brownies in his lap, sobbing as he shoveled the treat into his mouth.

“I j-just don’t understand!” he wailed, crumbs spraying everywhere. “Why isn’t she texting back?!”

“She obviously doesn’t have her phone, Yongbok,” Minho said, his shoulders sagged under his own misery. “Her parents must have taken it just to make sure we can’t talk to her.”

Felix’s face crumpled. He let out another sob and crammed another brownie into his mouth.

“W-We’re supposed to protect her! But we're just sitting here and letting her suffer! What if she thinks we don’t care?”

Across the room, Hyunjin was perched on the window sill, staring into the night like a lovesick Victorian poet. He hadn’t spoken in days, his brooding silence actually starting to make the atmosphere even more miserable - if that was even possible.

His hair was unkempt and dark circles shadowed his eyes - he has done nothing but mourn your absence from his life.

Minho side-eyed him while poking furiously at his chicken.

“Alright, broody. That's enough. Both of you, stop. This isn't doing us any good!” he snapped, and Hyunjin hopped off the window sill, glaring at Minho. 

“You think I’m sulking? She’s getting married - to some random asshole who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her - and you’re over there making soup!”

“It’s a stir-fry,” Minho deadpanned. 

“She’s probably crying herself to sleep, and you’re stir-frying?” Hyunjin hissed. “We should be doing something! Not standing around like idiots while Yeonjun gets to -”

Felix burst into fresh sobs at the name.

“Don’t say his name! Please!” He said, hiccupping through the tears. “He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn't…What if she's moved on? What if -”

Hyunjin whirled around, facing Felix, taking two steps towards him. 

“Don’t you dare.” His voice was low and he sounded so furious, Felix looked terrified. “Don’t you dare question how she feels. She loves us. She’s just… stuck. You know that.”

Minho groaned, tossing his spatula onto the counter.

“Okay, this won't do. Hyunjin, stop scaring him. And Felix, you know her better than anyone.” He said, glaring at both of them. “We’re not sitting around and crying anymore.”

“We’re going to…going to stop the wedding, then?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes moving from Minho to Felix.

Felix sat up straight, brownie crumbs falling down his sweater.

“Ok, so we find out where she’s being kept, get her out of there, and make sure her parents know they can’t control her anymore.” Minho offered, and Felix just looked at Minho and Hyunjin with wide eyes, his mouth falling open. 

“Alright, but we need to be smart about this. Her parents are probably watching her like hawks.” Hyunjin added. 

“Let's do it then.” Felix said, finally putting the plate away and brushing the crumbs off him. 

The car was parked a safe distance from your family manor. Everything was so silent, but the tension inside felt like a blaring alarm.

Hyunjin sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the security guards patrolling your front yard. Felix was watching from the back, and he already looked so discouraged, it was sad. Minho, on the other hand, looked like he was about to start breathing fire.

“This is ridiculous,” Minho spat. “What do they think she’s going to do? Tunnel out of the house with a spoon?”

“M-Maybe they think we’re going to rescue her…” Felix hiccupped, his red-rimmed eyes peeking out from under his sleeve.

Hyunjin gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turned white.

“We can’t even get close to her,” Felix choked out. “She’s right there, and we can’t do anything! What if she thinks -”

“She’s not going to think anything,” Hyunjin said softly, but there was a shadow of doubt in his voice.

He looked back at the house, the corners of his mouth tightening. Minho, however, wasn’t having any of it. He slammed his fist against the dashboard, startling both of them.

“No. No way. We’re not giving up. If we can’t get her out now, we’ll do it when it matters most.”

“What do you mean?” Felix blinked at him, sniffling. 

“The wedding. If they want to lock her up until she says ‘I do,’ fine. Let them think they’ve won. But when she’s at that venue? She’s ours.” Minho said, his jaw clenching. 

“You’re saying we crash the wedding?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, completely invested in this plan. 

“No,” Minho said, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. “We steal the bride. We’ll take her someplace where she can actually be happy.”

---

Back at their apartment, the boys huddled around the coffee table, a hand drawn map of the wedding venue (courtesy Hyunjin) spread out in front of them. Minho was pointing at various parts of the map with a chopstick like a general planning a siege.

“Felix,” Minho began. “Your job is the most important. You’re going to sneak into her dressing room and get her out. I hope you're good at climbing because -”

“I’ll climb whatever you need me to climb!” Felix interrupted, looking determined.

Minho gave him a half-smile.

“Well, you'd climb in through her window for now,” he said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll create a distraction to draw security away from her side of the venue. Fire alarms, and maybe some smoke bombs -”

“Smoke bombs?” Hyunjin cut in, looking suspicious. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Minho shot back, smirking. “Anyway, while we’re at it, Hyunjin will have the car ready and waiting.”

“I can handle that.” Hyunjin said, arms crossed and leaning back. “But what about after we get her out? They’ll chase us.” 

“Let them,” Minho said. “She's an adult. She can easily make a police complaint about being kept locked in, and maybe get a restraining order or something.”

Felix bounced in his seat, as he said, “This is gonna work. I know it will! She’ll see us, and she’ll know we’re there for her.”

Hyunjin gave a small smile and said, “She’ll know.”

It was the day of your wedding, and you were sitting in the dressing room, suffocating in the layers of white silk and lace - waiting for your death sentence. The pressure in your chest grew with every passing second. This was so wrong. This whole thing was. 

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection with terror. The dress was stunning, yes. But it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. Not when you had no say in it. 

Memories of last night surfaced and you felt extremely nauseated. You'd begged Yeonjun to reconsider this insanity. You’d pleaded with him, told him how you didn't want this.

But his response had been one that you'd never forget. 

He'd sneered at you and grabbed your chin so harshly as he said, “You’ll learn to be grateful for this. I’m going to teach you your place. And when I'm done, no one's gonna want you again. Especially those losers you call your friends.”

You felt your stomach churn. You weren’t afraid of him - no, not really - but you couldn’t deny the power he held over you. 

The power your own parents had bestowed upon him. Because they thought it was ok for him to threaten you into submission. 

And that terrified you.

More than anything, the thought that you'd never see Felix, Minho or Hyunjin ever again - that crushed you. There wasn't a night that you didn't cry over how much you missed them. They meant the world to you.

You walked towards the giant window, gazing out while considering climbing out. You wondered if that was actually feasible when suddenly, a face appeared just in front of you.

A very familiar, and very attractive, face.

“Felix?” you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat as you quickly grabbed his arm helping him through the open window.

He was dressed in a white suit that made him look like the literal definition of an angel sent to save you. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was ready to weep.

“Oh my god, baby…” Felix whispered, and you barely had time to process this before he was pulling you into an hug.

The sob that escaped you was strangled and pained. You wrapped your arms around him, clutching him like he would disappear any minute.

You weren't even sure if you were hallucinating from hunger and exhaustion or if he was actually here. What helped was his scent - he smelled like vanilla and something spicy. And more than anything, he felt like home.

“Oh my god, Lixie, what are you doing here?” you asked breathlessly, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m here to take you home, of course,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and brushing his lips against your forehead before moving to kiss you full on the lips - deep and slow. This was your first time kissing him, honestly, it sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his heart racing against yours, and his hands slipped down to your waist, holding you tight against him.

Felix was here. And he was taking you away.

He pulled back, his eyes taking in your wedding dress and a soft smile grazed his face as he said, “You’re so beautiful,”

You could see the lust burning in his eyes, a hunger that he was trying so hard to suppress. But there was no time to indulge in it now.

“Come on,” Felix whispered, taking your hand gently and guiding you toward the door. When he opened it, you gasped loudly, because you saw Minho stalking towards you and Felix with a smug grin on his face. 

“Minho!” you said, as your heart pounding in your chest. He was so damn sexy in his suit, his expression a perfect mix of arrogance and affection.

He didn’t even give you a chance to react before he was pulling you into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“You're not getting married today, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You blinked at him as you tried to take this all in. You were sure your life was over till about five minutes ago. You were scared to even hope, because at this moment, you had a lot of it flowing through you. 

You glanced around, looking for Hyunjin. But you don't have time to ask where he was, because at the exact moment a shrill sound fills the area.

A fire alarm. The wail echoed down the hall, and you could hear a soft hiss of smoke drifting from somewhere in the building. There were people running towards the source of the sound and the smoke filling the area.

“Minho…” you said, your voice almost incredulous, “Did you set off the fire alarm?”

“Would you prefer I hadn’t?” Minho teased, and Felix chuckled softly behind you.

You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Minho was pulling you in for a kiss of his own. And the look he gave you promised you something safe and beautiful you couldn't have dared to dream of until a few minutes ago. 

“We're taking you away from all this,” Minho said, breaking the kiss. “You belong with us.”

As if on cue, you heard the door swing open from the other side, and Yeonjun’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“What the hell is going on?!” he bellowed, his face twisting in rage. “Where is Y/N?!”

The three of you ran. It was an absolute pain to run in that damn dress (which you thought was why Yeonjun wanted you to wear it in the first place - so you can't run away from him). And those heels - you kicked them off and Felix quickly lifts the front part of your dress a bit so you weren't tripping on it. 

And you ran.

Minho pushed open the door and you could hear Yeonjun’s loud voice even through the fire alarm. And the three of you raced down the steps, and there. 

Leaning against a sleek black car was Hyunjin.

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked even more stunning than usual in his suit. But it wasn’t just his looks that made you shiver - no. 

It was the way he stepped forward, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into his chest. And again, he stole your breath away (like he always did) by kissing you. 

Hyunjin kissed you right in front of Yeonjun, and the kiss was rough and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

Yeonjun stood frozen for a moment, as the wedding guests and your family surrounded him. Obviously, there wasn't much he could do anymore. His perfect reputation was at risk here.

Hyunjin pulled back, his hand still gripping your waist as he gave Yeonjun a cold glare. And then taking your hand in his, he slipped your engagement ring off your finger, and tossed it towards Yeonjun, who looked like a volcano ready to explode. 

“Not today, you loser,” Hyunjin said with a smirk, watching as the ring tumbled through the air and landed at Yeonjun’s feet with a soft clink. “Not my girl.”

You were frozen, your heart racing as Minho and Felix joined you and Hyunjin, keeping you well shielded from your parents’ glare. But no one said anything.

Not a word.

Felix squeezed your hand, and Minho patted your shoulder as he watched you gaze at your parents who didn't look apologetic at all. Hyunjin pressed a soft kiss on your temple before leading you toward the car. 

And as Hyunjin opened the car door and grinned at you, you knew. It wasn’t just the end of a wedding - it was the beginning of your life, your new life, with your three beautiful boys. It was complicated, yes. But one thing you knew for sure was that they'd never let you shed a tear again.

And hell, you couldn't wait for whatever this was because you were finally with your boys. 

Divider - @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[not-inappropriate]

I will say, the entry level job market on indeed dot com does indeed dot suck. But I think I’ve learned a decent amount since indeed and company websites are the only job boards I’ve used, and I’ve had a decent career so far, so I feel like I’ve got some decent advice. if any of this helps anyone at all hell yeah.

So:

1) HR people ALWAYS exaggerate the requirements. However much experience they say they want, you probably need one third of that. Certifications required usually means certifications preferred, depending on the industry. Like, Don’t apply to a surgeon position with only a nursing degree; but there’s a solid chance you can get a job with a CPA firm without being a CPA yourself. Just make sure you can give some sort of explanation as to why you would be able to do the job if asked.

Story: My brother (1 year experience, Bachelor’s degree) was once encouraged to apply to a new position within his company by his boss, who had instructed HR on the requirements and experience needed for the position (bachelors required, entry level, 1-3 year experience preferred), and when my brother goes to the website to apply it says 3-5 years experience required, Masters degree preferred. Bro said boss was PISSED. HR can be a joke sometimes.

2) Cover letters are usually pointless if it’s not an extreme specialty position with few candidates. Unless it says they’re highly encouraged or something

3) Maybe the most important: send follow up emails for EVerything. I think this is what held me back for months when I first started using indeed. And it doesn’t matter how bland or thoughtless is is. Two sentences in an HR bro’s inbox is worth 10 cover letters. And if you got a screening call or an interview and haven’t heard back in a week+ ?? Call their ass. They might offer the job to you on the spot. Last time I was job hunting I got a mid offer, after being ghosted on two good offers I’d interviewed for. I called both of them and said Soooo y’all make a decision??? They both offered me a job within 24 hours. (Brag, sorry)

Each listing probably has hundreds of applicants. People just spamming their resume across the internet. And emails, or especially calls, show actual interest. Go to the company website > about us > our staff > contact us > whatever. “Hi Mr. Bob. I saw your listing on indeed and wanted to introduce myself. I graduated this year and had trouble contacting anybody on the job listing websites, but I believe I have the qualifications necessary for the position. If you have a moment, could you forward my email to the relevant parties. My resume is attached. Thank you, XoXo”. Whatever. When I was working in my first entry level job doing data entry and answering phones, I got a phone call like this, and we actually gave the guy an interview (this guy blew it RIP). I’ve seen another boss mad when he got a call from a reasonably qualified applicant who said they hadn’t heard back after applying on one of the other job listing sites, and he came out yelling at his secretary (yeah he was an asshole), demanding to see the resume. Offered him the job in the first interview. (Hell yeah). Plus people feel bad turning you down after hearing your voice. You’re a human to them now.

4)As far as finding more relevant jobs? Similar to point 1. For entry level, select the 1-3 years experience instead. For bookkeeping, choose accounting instead. When I was also looking for a bookkeeping job, I couldn’t find one for the life of me. When I was looking for accounting jobs as a Managerial Auditior?? Bookkeeping listings all over my indeed page. Yeah it’s bullshit, but aiming up helps. Thats about all I have for that though.

So yeah. Apply to things you might not perfectly meet the requirements for. Emails and phone calls get people’s attention. and Real Bosses are often pissed when they find out the inefficiencies of HR and job boards too. Just send it

Anyway. Job hunting can be the least fun endeavor on the planet. Sending thotts and prayors for the lot of you 🙏🙏🙏 and praying I never have to do it again (now that I found my dream job) (on indeed dot com) (fuck indeed dot com) (but also thank you indeed dot com)

do genuinely find it fascinating how indeed.com is like the biggest job-hunting website out there and yet manages to be profoundly useless in every possible way

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (viii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal, the passage of time, panicking,

A/N: omg guys new banner reveal. i put a flower on that man because i felt like it. personally thrilled that we have made it this far because that means it's only 2 more chapters to 10 and then we're in double digits. also unsolved drabble requests are very welcome and encouraged please ily THANKS BYE

Previous part || Series masterlist

“I don’t get it,” Bucky says, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

Inside the room, the air is thick with dust and the scent of aged metal. The walls are lined with dark wooden beams, their surfaces weathered by time, and the faint smell of oil and rust lingers in the air. 

“It’s a haunted clock tower,” you reply, walking up the stairs, floorboards creaking generously under you. 

“I got that,” he retorts, “but what the hell is it supposed to haunt? All the search results were just some kids' show.”

In the center of the room stands the massive, intricate clock mechanism, the gears and cogs slowly gathering rust as the years have passed without maintenance. Moonlight through the giant clock face casts a faint glow into the dimly lit room.

“I’m surprised you checked the internet,” you tell him, “I didn’t know you knew how to do that.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was an undercover agent for 80 years. I know how to use technology.”

“You’re also older than the concept of time, so you can see how that may confuse some people,” you reply, taking a tour around the room. “Second, I’m surprised you checked the internet.”

“You already said that.”

You stop in your tracks, hand on your chest as you say, “Yes, but you’re researching things now? For our show? That’s real sweet, babygirl.”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he continues to climb up. “It was one Google search.”

“It’s one more than what you’ve done in the last 3 months,” you say, eyelashes fluttering comically at him before your demeanor returns to normal. “Anyway, there’s no like, ghost sightings here, per se–”

Bucky comes to a halt only two steps away from his door. “Then why are we here?” 

“It’s still haunted, Bucky,” you chastise. “That doesn’t always mean ghosts. Maybe it could mean orbs. Or shadow people, like from the hospital–”

“Not a thing.”

The clock creaked and groaned, the hands inching forward, their motion sluggish and uneven, as if the gears hadn't been properly oiled in years. With every tick, a loud whine echoed through the tower, vibrating the air in the otherwise silent room.

“Ooh, maybe we’ll find our doppelgangers.” Your eyes shine. “What would you do with yours?”

“Nothing.” Steve met another version of himself once and immediately beat the shit out of it, if that was anything to go by.   

“Not even a date?”

His eyebrows knit together, eyes creasing. “Why would I date my doppelganger?”

“Who’s gonna know you better than yourself? But the more important question is, would you fu–”

The noise from the clock grows more intense—a final, desperate groan before it comes to a jarring halt. 

The ticking stops abruptly, leaving an unnatural silence hanging in the air. The hands remain frozen at 9. 

Both of you are left staring at a now defunct clock. 

“Clock died ‘cause of your stupid question,” Bucky comments, voice dry. 

“Just say you don’t like modern philosophy and go.” 

“Oh I’m going alright. Two hours and all we’ve gotten footage of is stairs, trash and a washout Big Ben.”

“Don’t insult Kinley Clock Tower like that,” you scold. “You’re gonna piss it off and it’s gonna haunt us for the rest of our days.”

Bucky gives you a flat look. “By doing what.”

“Showing you the wrong time wherever you go.”

“Devastating,” Bucky responds, not sounding fazed in the slightest. “Right, so nothing haunted here?”

“Maybe it’s haunted by the failure of proper clock maintenance.”

Bucky’s eyes sweep across the largely empty room one last time. “Other than that toolbox, place’s empty. Chalk this one up to bullshit and let’s go.”

You let out a deep sigh at the thought of a wasted evening. “Fine, but that means we have to find another idea for a video.”

“Use one of the reserves.”

“We’re gonna have to, if we can’t find anything by tomorrow.”

Bucky’s heavy footsteps echo through the staircase. “That is a problem for tomorrow-you to deal with.”

You let out a scoff, following behind. “Tomorrow-us.”

“No,” he replies thoughtfully. “Pretty sure I got it right.”

Whatever. You counted tonight as a win the second you managed to get Bucky out of the compound without having to lie out of your ass. He even threw in a Google search worth of research. And he even told you the batteries on the cameras were all charged. Small steps for a regular co-host, big step for Buckykind everywhere. 

The elevator stops at his floor and he gets out, sending you a two finger wave on his way out. 

Should I walk you to your door?” you throw in at the last minute, the makings of a smile on your face. 

Bucky casts you an indignant look. “Why?”

“Chivalry, baby.” You grin, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “Didn't they literally invent it in your era?”

Bucky flips you the finger instead, not bothering to dignify you with a response. Your laughter subsides as the elevator closes on you with a ding.

Bucky sees a faint light in the hallway, and figures Steve’s slightly ajar door is its source. In between trudging back to his bedroom, he drops a quick knock on it.

“Come in,” Steve calls, voice deep from the sleepiness starting to set in. “Oh, you’re back.”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies from the doorway. “Shoot got done early.”

“Where’d you go?” he asks, laying down his book beside him. 

“Kinley Tower,” Buck stands with his arms pulled over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “Place was a dud. Nothing to see.”

“What about other things?” Steve asks, curious but still casually indirect. “How was it?” 

Bucky shrugs. “The same. Bounced right back, like nothing ever happened.” 

“You still don’t know what Nat was talking about?” 

“No,” Bucky replies, scratching the back of his neck, before hesitantly saying, “Should I be asking? I don’t know if we’re— y’know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re friends by now, Buck.” Steve smiles briefly. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in.”

Well, Steve may be sure, but Bucky wasn’t. Then again Steve only had 1 best friend for over a hundred years until he met Sam, so how the fuck would he know. 

Still, Bucky gives a curt nod, glancing around Steve’s room for any notable changed but coming up empty handed. 

“You wanna tell me why there’s several charges on my card for tarot websites?” Steve picks up his book again, thumbing through the pages.

“Wasn’t me,” Bucky grunts. 

“Seems a bit suspect after you did an episode on witchcraft,” Steve speaks without lifting an eye from his book. “Could just be me though.”

It catches him by surprise. “You watch our episodes?”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Yes? Every last one.”

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, finding everything else in the room infinitely more interesting all of a sudden. 

“Looks like it’s doing you some good,” Steve continues, turning back to his novel. “It’s nice to see you out and about.”

“What’s that s’pposed to mean?” Bucky gives him a look that could be seen as peeved if the blond hadn’t known him for as long has he had been alive.

Steve hides a smile. “Nothing. Left some apples on your nightstand. Eat it if you’re hungry.”

It forces Bucky to try to catch onto Steve's train of thought. Sure you hung out occasionally after work, but it wasn’t like you were hanging out on a friends basis. Bucky definitely would know if you were, because it would be a laborious task to even get him to consider leaving his bedroom. A thousand elephants would not be able to make him go do things that friends do. 

So he stares at him for another whole minute waiting for a follow up, a clarification, but Steve makes no other comment, only turning the page of his novel. 

Bucky finally leaves silently, shutting the door behind him.

Sure enough, there are apples and a fork on his nightstand. They were good too, crisp like Steve had gotten them from the market just today.  

By eleven Bucky’s already in bed, eyes straining as he watches this woodworking guy on YouTube teach him how to make a dovetailed box. For no reason. And just because he heard Sam mention offhand that he needed a place for all his keys doesn’t mean Bucky was making it for him.  

From: co-host 

how about we take a road trip down to washington to go meet my dear friend

From: co-host 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

what friend

mr quatch himself

From: co-host  

first name ‘sas’

From: co-host

i’m talking about bigfoot

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

yeah i got it 

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

when 

From: co-host

well we’d have to start at 4am

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)

fuck no

From: bucky (avengers) (guy with the hair)how about something within a 5 mile radius 

From: co-host

How about Sunday 

Bucky switches his phone all the way off and tosses it onto the bed beside him, smothering his face into the pillow. 

​​From: co-host

How about your mom

He’d deal with your nonsense tomorrow. 

And probably fill the gas tank for a trip to Washington. 

Bucky’s eyes snap open when the cold air hits his face. He keeps his window shut all the way,every single night. 

He blinks several times before his eyes adjust to the darkness of his surroundings. 

“Bucky?” a disembodied voice comes from beside him.

His head whips to the side, making him realise that one, he was standing, and two, he had no idea how long he’d been standing for. 

Only, he finds you next to him, looking disoriented like you’d just been shaken awake from a nap.

“Where the hell–” your voice trails off as you take note of where you’d landed up. 

In front of him, mechanical gears whine as they scrape against each other in a desperate attempt to move.

He peers down at his clothes; the same black t-shirt, jacket and cargo pants he distinctly remembers changed out of nearly an hour ago. 

“What the fuck,” Bucky snaps. “Did you bring us back here?”

“No,” you say, face rigid, solemn. “I swear I didn’t. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Bucky’s shoulders loosen. “No, I was asleep.”

The wind rustles by, and everything looks exactly the same as when you left it nearly 3 hours ago. 

“We’re back at Kinley,” he tests it, taking a step forward. “What just happened?”

“This is weird, right?” you put forth, clearing your throat. “I definitely was going to send you a text about the next video idea, and the next thing I know you’re in front of me. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Bucky pinches the inside of his arm. The skin comes back red and stinging.

“No, it’s real,” he murmurs. “Unless this is a weird fuckin’ dream that I’m having.”

It wouldn’t be the first time you showed up in his dreams either. He just doesn’t remember any of them being so… vivid. 

“I’m in the physical realm, I can feel that,” you talk so quietly it’s like you’re speaking to yourself. “It’s not your dream. I’m here too.”

He checks his phone. 

9:05. 

Bucky opens up his messages, finding none from you tonight. His YouTube history similarly didn’t have the video he was watching earlier today.

Bucky clenches his fists and releases them, before taking a deep inhale. “Okay. We just had a strange fuckin’ flash forward into the future because of… I don’t know what. But we never left, and now we’re going home.”

“Yep.” You nod in confirmation, but the camera levitating behind you wobbles with uncertainty. “So– do we recreate what happened or…?”

“No, let's just leave,” Bucky debates, running a hand through his hair. 

You take a step towards the stairs, holding onto the bannister as you make your way down. 

Bucky holds up the flashlight of his phone as he follows, throwing another look behind him. 

“Having a shared flashforward… could say it’s soulmate shit,” you give him a quick glance, but the grin on your face is unsure, and he knows you’re trying to shake it off. 

“It’s a carbon monoxide shit.” 

“You can be carbon mine-oxide.” 

Bucky wordlessly shoves past you as he walks down the stairs, leaving you to follow with another stupid laugh. 

The car ride back brings with it some air of normalcy, so does the elevator ride. 

Bucky once again gives you a two finger wave as he gets down at his floor. 

“Offer’s still there if you want me to walk you to your room,” you call. “I may be delirious, but I’m still chivalrous.”

“Go to sleep,” Bucky carps, shaking his head, banishing the slight lift in the corner of his mouth. 

The faint light in the hallway makes him falter. 

He sticks his head in anyway. “Hey.”

“Oh, hey,” Steve smiles from his bed, book in hand. “You’re back.”

Bucky glances around the room. “Did we talk earlier today?”

“Only when you texted me for my Netflix password.” 

“Nothing after that?” Bucky hesitates from asking him outright.

“No. You okay?” Steve asks, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Just had a weird dream,” Bucky dismisses, forcing his face to relax. “See you around.”

“Left you some apples if you’re hungry,” Steve calls, as Bucky shuts the door.

He crawls back into bed, eyeing the clock suspiciously. 10:30. 

He closes his eyes, wills himself to sleep, knowing that this glitch in the matrix was only temporary and tomorrow, you’d be at his damn door, forcing him to go to Washington with you. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open when a draft of wind blows past his cheek.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” he growls, taking in the stupid tower again. 

“Well, fuck,” you exhale from beside him, in the same clothes from that evening. “I think we’re stuck in a timeloop.”

Of all the things to happen to him. Has he not suffered enough.

“Fine. Alright,” Bucky recalibrates, voice short, running a hand through his hair. “What now? How do we get out?”

“I don’t know, let me just consult with my vast experience in timeloops.”

He throws you a look so dry it would have crops withering. You don’t seem to care at all. 

“If I had to guess from the movies I’ve seen, we either gotta solve a puzzle or one of us has to reach self-actualisation and turn into a good human,” you postulate, arms on your hips as you survey the room. “We both know it’s not me, so is there anything you want to share with the class?”

If your release was contingent on Bucky working through his issues, you’d be here for a century at least.

“We keep coming back here at midnight,” Bucky elects to focus on other things, tilting his head towards the clock. “Is it because we left at 9 instead of 12?”

“Maybe,” you consider it. “We can stick around, I guess.”

It wasn’t a bad place to start. You’d have to trial-and-error your way out of this one. 

“We’ve got…” he pulls his sleeve back to look at his watch “...two hours and fifty five minutes.”

You shrug. “We can check out the rest of the tower to see if we missed anything.”

“Fine,” he relents slowly as if still weighing his options, only to come up with nothing better. 

The next level is at least a few flights of stairs below and if you thought the room with the clock in it was barren, there was nothing here for you except spiders and dust bunnies.   

“Maybe we have to clean it up,” you suggest, nose scrunching. “Maybe the tower’s super mad that everyone’s disrespecting it.”

“That's a stupid reason.”

You spin around, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Take that back. We just said maybe it doesn't like being disrespected.”

Bucky grumbles a few choice words under his breath, none of which reach your ears. 

There's nothing along the walls of the tower, nor on the ceilings. The intermediary floor and the ground floor come up empty as well. 

By the time you've confirmed that you’ve exhausted all possible leads with nothing to show for it, Bucky’s memorised the layout of the place. 

11:58.

“2 more minutes,” he tells you.

“All right,” you say, rubbing your palms together. “Experiment one. Let's go.”

Bucky keeps his eyes peeled.

11:59.

He doesn't even fucking blink, and neither do you as the seconds count down on his phone. 

12:00. 

He exhales, looking up. 

A cold wind blows past his face. 

When he hastily looks back at his phone, it reads 9pm once more. 

“Damn it,” you curse softly. 

Bucky’s growing anger resonates in a rumble in chest. “What kind of twisted shit is this?”

“It's fine,” you hold your hand up, breathing out. “I have a few more ideas.”

Bucky carelessly gestures for you to go on, and you point at the big clock.

“That thing stopped working at 9,” you hint. “We'll have to fix it. Get it working again and then we go back.”

“You know anything about fixing clocks?”

“I worked at a toy shop near a watchmaker once,” you offer. “That's gotta count for something.”

“What the hell, sure,” Bucky gives up, throwing his arms up. 

He only had experience taking apart the old leather strapped wrist watch his parents got him for his 11th birthday, and Steve’s pocket watch that he inherited from his asshole dad. He’d dismantle it carefully, methodically piece by piece, learning the insides and out of each device, so that if and when they stopped running, he'd know exactly what was wrong just by holding it up to his ear.

That didn't necessarily transfer here, but it couldn't be all that different.

Turns out it's very different and you both had to resort to watching several videos before you even began to attempt to fix it. 

He retreats the toolbox from the corner, grateful that at least you didn't have to waste a good half hour going looking for tools to fix a fuckin’ clock.

“There's no signs of life in the mechanism,” you say, reading from the phone. “So I guess we start with the most basic shit.” 

He only lets out a noise in acknowledgement, before you both spend time dusting away at gears and checking for broken parts. When nothing seems bent or misaligned, you move onto the next step. 

And that's when the fun actually starts. 

“That’s not how you oil a gear.”

“Sure it fuckin’ is,” Bucky comments, careful making sure the grease reaches every nook and cranny.

“You’re doing it wrong.” 

Bucky doesn't take his eyes off the machine, and instead raises his left hand up, clenching it into fist and releasing it, leaving the soft shifting of all the plates to prove his point. 

You scoff. “What, just ‘cause you have a metal arm you're the world’s leading expert in oiling mechanics?”

“It means I’ve got some experience in taking care of them.” 

“I’ve seen you put that thing in the dishwasher, don’t even try with me,” you warn. 

Busted. He usually got away with lying flagrantly about his arm, but apparently you pay attention to him and the fact that the Wakandan tech only required a wipedown every once and a while. 

“I do woodwork, I know how to oil things,” he switches seamlessly over to the next lie. 

The tools rarely needed any maintenance and he really didn't have to do much with them yet, considering how high quality they were. But he has an idea of what he could be doing, and that's what counts. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “How come you’ve never made anything for me?”

“I don’t like you.” 

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky continues squeezing oil into axles without sparing you a glance. “What do you want?”

“What can you make?”

“Boxes.”

“Make me a box then.”

“No.”

“Bitch.”

Bucky smiles to himself, turning the gears to see them move smoothly.

You dust off cobwebs from the pendulums to get it swinging again, you use your powers to stare at the crank until it rotates on its own to wind up, and to the best of your estimation, make sure the weights are raised to the right heights. 

The whole affair takes nearly 3 hours and towards the end, the both of you are hurriedly rushing through the motions, placing aside the need to argue to just get the damn thing done in time. At some point, telekinesis keeps the pendulum swinging. 

“Did you check everything?”

“Yes.”

“Everything.”

“Yes, Bucky.” you sigh. “All major pieces are working. The clock should move.”

Proof of your word, the clock starts ticking again. It goes from 9:00 to 9:05 without any hitches, and then continues on without interference. 

“Hell yeah,” you cheer and Bucky heaves a sigh of relief.

“Come on,” he urges under his breath, checking his phone again.

2 minutes to go.

“I love the passage of time,” you state unnaturally loudly. “I've never been more grateful for the passage of time.”

“Don't jinx this.”

1 more minute.

“That's not jinxing, it's good lu-”

Bucky feels a cold breeze swipe across his cheek. 

He inhales sharply. 

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops to the ground. 

In the blink of an eye, everything you'd managed to get done in the last 3 hours had gone right back to the way it had been. Dusty, unmoving and dull. 

Bucky robotically checks the time on his phone. 

9pm.

His fingers rub his temples. “What's the next plan?”

“We must have not done it right,” you reason quietly, taking a step towards it. “Something's wrong.”

“The thing was moving, I think we got it,” Bucky sighs irritatedly. 

“Well, we gotta try again,” you turn to him sharply. “You don't have to be here but I'm gonna do it.”

Bucky raises both his eyebrows at you, and you stare back with equal determination. 

“Fine,” he forgoes. “I'll look downstairs.”

It takes less time this time around. It gives you half an hour to check if it is moving again, and you watch the hands move from 9 to 9:05 to 9:20 with no problem.

Meanwhile, Bucky spends his time turning the intermediate room inside out in search for other clues. 

When he finds nothing there, he trudges back to the clock, finding you fingers crossed but confident that you'd done it.

“This is it, baby,” you say, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We're getting out of this.”

“Here's to hoping,” he says in a tone that lets you know he isn’t convinced, watching his timer countdown from 30 seconds.

“No hoping. There's nothing to do. We're leaving,” you declare. “I've never seen a clock work more beautifully in my life.” 

Three.

Two.

One.

Bucky holds his breath. 

And a wind blows past his face.

The machine resets to the way it was. 

“All fuckin’ right,” Bucky mumbles, expiring a breath deeply. 

“It's fine,” you say, forcing a smile. “I've got a few more ideas.”

Cleaning the floors doesn't work. 

Reading up about the clock tower in  detail and honouring its legacy in an earnest ceremony doesn't work. 

Fixing it for a third time doesn't work either.

“I'm takin’ a nap,” he informs, back against the wall. “I'll deal with this shit again when I wake up.”

“How can you even think about sleeping right now?” you ask, using your powers to pull the damn clock out of the wall. It changes nothing.

“I've thought about sleeping through much worse,” he grumbles, eyes closed. 

“I'm beginning to think you have an iron deficiency.”

“Literally a supersoldier.”

“Vitamin D deficiency,” you revise. “Can you step into the sun or do you just like, start hissing and burning?”

“We’ve never gonna find out, ‘cause we’re never making it out of tonight,” he hums, eyes closed. 

You go still, clock hovering mid air. 

“You don't think we're getting out?”

“I think we're fucked,” Bucky mumbles, yawning as he makes himself as comfortable as old wooden floors would allow him to be. “Y’told me yourself, we tried all the big plans. There's no puzzle. We're trapped.”

The clock lands on the ground with a heavy thud. 

“Careful,” he warns, wondering how cozy the floor would be if he just slid down and laid there. “Wouldn't wanna break the fuckin’ thing that put us in this mess to begin with.”

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bucky opens one eye to peer at you. “What?”

“What do you think, Bucky?” you fire back. “We’re stuck in a timeloop for eternity because we’ve tried the most obvious options and we’re still here.”

“Could be a lot cleaner, but this ain’t the worst place to get stuck for the rest of your life,” he tempts, arms crossed behind his head, feeling a dull strain in his neck. 

“We’re gonna be stuck here forever,” you say, dawning horror in your inflection. “I’m gonna be stuck with you for the rest of eternity.”

“So much for chivalry,” he says wryly.

“We need a new plan,” you digress hectically from the other side of the room. 

“Here's one. I get some sleep, order some pizza in the next loop or two and–”

“No.”

“Fine, Thai works too. Whatever. Then we-”

“You don’t get it,” you snap abruptly. “Jesus Christ, this is literally my worst fucking nightmare. Either help or leave.”

He pries both eyes open at the sudden shift in your tone. He’s used to you snapping at him for his bullshit, and the favour was usually reciprocated, but not like this.  

Your back is turned to him, but he can tell you’re breathing heavily as you check out the new gap you've created in the wall where the clock was, before turning around and lifting the entire machine in the center of the room. 

“Hey,” he calls, voice gruff, slowly pushing himself off the floor. 

You throw him a look, continuing to move pieces of newspaper and tools and check under it. 

He watches you curse under your breath, lifting things too high and dropping them down a little too hard without flinching even once. 

“Look,” he tries again, a little louder. 

You flip the machine upside down, fully intending on taking it apart and putting it back together as if it was going to make a big difference.

“Grab the wrench. Or don't, I don't give a–”

Bucky grips your shoulder with a call of your name. It’s enough to get you to pause from sheer surprise at how close he suddenly positioned himself, considering it was a well known fact that Bucky hated people in his space. 

“Listen to me. We’re going to get out of here,” he instructs, voice much more muted than you were used to. “But you have to calm down.”

You take in a deep breath, before it leaves in a shaky exhale. Whatever you’ve got levitating gently drops onto the ground.

“You’re panicking. I would be too if I wasn’t dead inside,” he notes, hands still on your shoulder firmly. “Do whatever you need to to get it out of your system. It’ll be easier to focus after that. We'll be out of here soon enough.”

“You seem awfully sure.” Your mouth curls into a half smile, but it drops as quickly as it came up. 

“We’ll figure something out.” His shoulders rise and fall. “Got all the time in the world.”

You swallow the thickness in your throat, giving him a small nod.

“‘M sorry,” he says, eyes intense, and you know he’s talking about the nonchalance he showed earlier. “I was bein’ a prick.” 

“Honestly, you being a prick is, like, the most normal part about this.”

“...thanks.” 

“It’s fine, I could use some normal.” You brush it off with a slight smile. “You’re right. We should get some food. I’m hungry.”

“Alright,” he says, eyeing your features for a second more. “But you’re buying. Payback for making me clean up every floor twice.”

“Prick.”

His conversation with Steve from earlier that night comes back to him, the same time you take another breath to shake off the antsiness. 

Bucky lifts a eyebrow to look more natural. “You still sure it’s me who needs self-actualisation? ‘Cause it sure seems that you’ve got a whole lot to talk about.”

You half-scoff, half-laugh. “Is that your way of saying I’ve got issues?”

“Just using your words.”

You watch him for a second, like you’re thinking about saying something. He tilts his head at how contemplative you look, only for you to open your mouth and ask,

“Say, do you think emotional baggage is hot?” you wiggle your brows. “‘Cause if you do, I’ve got a whole lot of it.”

He groans out loud, neck craning as his head drops back. 

“Also,” you pose a bit more curiously, “you gonna let go of me any time soon or are we about to slow dance?”

Bucky’s hands immediately drop from your shoulder, taking a step back. “Fuck off.”

“I could, but I’d just respawn here in three hours.”

He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but feel a bit relieved that you looked a lot less in distress. 

You'd spent two loops doing a deep dive into timeloops, coming up with more possibilities to try out.

Leaving the building at each hour did nothing. 

You spent 1 loop eating dinner and reaching out to scientists you knew on how to break out. Those who replied either said they weren't real, told you stuff you'd already figured out, or blocked you.

You even spent half a loop painstakingly combing through footage from earlier in the night to figure out if you'd fucked with anything by mistake that you were yet to correct, not noticing it so far because it had been so minor or mundane. 

“Oh shit, I just noticed something,” you gape, pointing at the screen

Bucky pulls the little monitor closer to his face. “What?”

“You’re looking at me so much in these,” you remark, voice relaxing immediately. “What's up with that?” 

“Maybe because you’re the only one talking,” Bucky fires back, irritatedly putting the camera back down, “and it’s not like there’s anything else to look at here.”

“So defensive,” you comment. “Just say you think I’m cute and move on.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut me up yourself, coward.”

To be clear, Bucky didn't realise he was looking at you that much. And now that you’ve pointed it out, he can’t really argue because he is doing it a lot more than he realised he was, even unconsciously sometimes. 

“How many more timeloops till you run out of these lines?” he questions instead.

“How many more timeloops till you stop being a handsome son of a bitch?”

The clock tower may be cold, but he feels too warm all of a sudden. 

“I swear, if this doesn’t work, I’m throwing the clock out the window,” you say, powers forcing the hands to speed through every hour and second at 2x speed. 

Bucky doesn’t even look up at you from over his phone. “You throw it, you’re fixing it again.”

You stop trying to spin the hands when one of them creaks. 

A few loops in and the growing frustration from the both of you manifests into tension that is palpable. 

You'd spent a loop or two outside the tower so you didn't drive yourself insane. Without fail, you'd end up right back up watching the clock every single time the world outside struck 12.

Bucky’s done his fair share of attempts. Jacket on, jacket off. Holding the camera, being the one who led into the room, the one who led out. 

Mainstream movies, obscure movies, video essays, podcasts. 

“I don’t fuckin’ get it. What are we missing?” you pour over the options again, frustrated. “We’ve done everything. We’ve done combinations of things.”

“There’s something we’re missing,” he says, staring at the moon through the face. “Some detail.” 

It's not like you can physically keep track of every variable. Everything resets the second it strikes 12, no matter what you changed. 

“I think–” 

He sends you a glance.

“Maybe if we–” you try before you stop altogether.  

Bucky just stays quiet because at this point you've exhausted every option you can think of, to no avail. 

He knows you don't want to say it. 

But it's time you start accepting that you're well and truly stuck. 

“Should write Maya an email,” he tells you. “Tell her we quit.”

You give him a smile, knowing it would never even make its way to her.

Still, you pull out your phone and let Bucky peek over your shoulder as you start typing, helpfully suggesting curses as you went. 

____

You absentmindedly tinker with the machine, able to take it apart, fix it and put it back together by heart and in no time now.

“What was the last mission you guys did?” you inquire, rotating a gear between your fingers. 

“Something small,” Bucky replies, voice steady. “Think it was just a recon in Detroit.”

“Do you miss it?” 

“No,” he says resolutely. “Everyone got tired of them a long time ago, but we stick around, just in case.”

You spare him a glance. “When was the last time you actually relaxed?”

Bucky considers it for a second. “Wakanda. Wasn't exactly a vacation though.” 

“New question. When was the last time you went on vacation?”

He raises an eyebrow, head twisting to look at you. 

You place the gear in its place before picking up the oil dropper. “Don’t answer if you don’t wanna.”

He turns his head back to the ceiling, and all the spider webs lining it. 

“Couple of years before I got drafted, my family took a day trip to Convey Island.” he reveals, voice low. “We were supposed to hit as many rides as we could but my sister was aboslutely fuckin’ taken by this damn steam engine they had running. Everyoe got sick of it after the second time so I stuck around with her. Must’a ridden that thing 5 times before she finally let up.” 

You have half a smile on your face. “Did you like it?”

He can't really remember. He can't even remember if the rest of his family was actually there, or whether it was just him and Steve and Becca, or it was just him and Becca.

“I liked that she liked it,” he decides.

You nod, wiping a gear before putting it back, snickering lightly.  “Was the last vacation you took really in the 1930s?” 

He exhales a laugh. “Steve and I went to the Canyon once. It was near a mission location. He told me I'd been dyin’ to go there as a kid. I don't remember that, but he fuckin’ dragged me there by the collar. Not sure if that really counts– we were both bleeding pretty heavy for it to be a real holiday.”

“Steve would say it counts.”

“Steven’s never taken a vacation in his life.” Bucky snorts. “I don't think he physically knows how to relax.”

“I don't think I've ever seen that man sit still for more than a few minutes.”

“Fuckin' rich coming from you. How many jobs have you had? A million?”

You exhale a laugh. “Something like that.”

You push the pendulum with your finger, watching it swing back and forth. 

“Where’d you stick the longest?” Bucky asks, hands supporting his head as he lies on the ground. 

You take a second to think, picking up a gear you’d already cleaned, wiping it down again.

“When I just got out of Leviathan, I used to wait tables for this elderly lady who ran a bakery. Mrs. Mullens,” you say finally. “She was kinder than anyone else I'd met till then; gave me leftovers that didn’t get sold that day, and enough money to get on my feet. I must've been there, what, a year? Year and a half? I think that’s the longest I’ve stayed.” 

“Why’d you quit?” He does his best to not sound too intrusive. 

“One evening she slipped keys into my pocket and told me I could stay in the room above the cafe if I wanted. Realised I’d been there too long, so I left the state the next morning.”

Bucky’s eye twitches as he turns to look at you. “She gave you a place to stay and you skipped town?”

“Yeah.” You half-shrug. “Staying in a place too long feels– suffocating. I don’t know. Just knew it was time to leave.”

Bucky looks at you strangely, mind inadvertently trying to piece together a bunch of information. 

Working on a hunch, he tests, “You got family out there somewhere?”

“I was literally created in a lab,” you deadpan. “I don’t have a family. Unless you count test tubes.”

“It doesn't have to be mean literally.” He arches an eyebrow. “What about Nat?”

“Nat’s a friend.” you disclose, holding a cog up to check for any stains, “The Avengers aren’t my family the same way they are for you. They’re great, but it’s just another job.”

Oh. 

“Right,” he says, settling back into his position, feeling a frown on his face.

“I haven’t really found what you’re asking me about,” you add, and he knows you're trying to be kind.

He isn't sure what he thought the team was to you. He isn't sure what he feels about the new information either.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What?” he asks distractedly. 

“Having people like that,” you clarify. “Maybe if I know what it feels like I’ll know when it happens.”

You’ve all but asked the most emotionally constipated man on earth what family feels like to him.

So reasonaly, Bucky blanks. 

Literally every single interaction with the dead and the living exits his mind. 

And so he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, 

“Silent blenders.” 

And then he cringes. 

“Is that the name of a movie or…” you trail off.

“No. They got me blenders that don’t make a sound. It was a nice gift,” he mumbles. 

You wait for him to provide even a little more context. He instead shifts uncomfortably. 

“Okay,” you allow, looking back down. “Silent blenders. Got it.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second more, and his head starts throbbing.

Instead, he dodges. “Guess you’re not gonna stick around for too long then, huh?”   

“Well, yeah,” you answer, like it was the easiest thing in the world.  “I was always going to just bounce after this was done. I thought you knew that.”

“Right,” he repeats. “Where you headed next?”

“Who knows?” you mull over. “I could go anywhere. You got any reccs?”

He doesn’t really have an answer for you. Bucky can’t imagine packing up and leaving again. Living life never knowing when he can finally take a seat. He’s spent so long wrestling with the turbulence of having multiple identities that he clings to what little semblance of stability he can find.

But a tiny voice in the recess of his mind whispers to him that maybe the reason he's stayed at the same place for so long is the same reason you can’t. 

He has a half formed hypothesis. And then soon comes to the conclusion that he really has no business deriving theories about you like that… but he’d be lying if he said he didnt store it in his head for later. 

He also doesn't know why there's a strange churning in his stomach, a deeply uncomfortable feeling that he hasn't really felt in years. It makes him want to get up and leave. 

“Y’know, just ‘cause I’m gonna leave eventually doesn’t mean we’re not friends.” You snap him out of his first great attempt to understand human emotions other than annoyance. 

He hums. “I wouldn't call us that.” 

“You’re right, we’re star crossed lovers.”

“I feel bad for the next person who has to deal with you.”

You laugh, swinging the pendulum into motion and wiping your hands down. 

You’d taken turns sleeping in two of the time loops, keeping watch while the other rested for a while.

Only when you're asleep does Bucky fully comprehend how quiet it is in there. 

The clouds cover the moon. The floorboards don't make much noise even as he walks around.

He's lost track of how many 9pms it's been. 

He doesn't know why it’s lingering in his mind like this. Probably because he had only thought of her a couple of hours ago. 

He knows you suggested it as a joke but he can't help but wonder.

What if it was actually him keeping the both of you here?  

He really thought he'd made amends. He'd been living as peacefully as he was able to. And yeah, he's a dick, but he wasn't outright evil.

Or so he thought.

Maybe he hadn’t repented as hard as he’d needed to. 

“Becks,” he calls quietly. “If you can hear me– I'm sorry.”

No one responds. You don't stir. 

He forces himself to exhale and continue, “I know you'd hate what I turned into, but I'm tryin’ here. I promise.”

He wishes a damn piece of paper would give him a sign on what to do, or at least tell him there was no coming back. That he should probably resign himself to his fate. 

“You should've had someone who coulda shielded you. Given you a chance to be a kid.” He swallows down the stone in his throat. “I know you're mad, Peanut. I'm really fuckin’ sorry. You deserved a whole lot better.” 

And then he waits, and waits some more, ears straining for anything– a giggle, a scrape. He doesn't know what he expected, but he gets nothing. 

Only a draft blows through the window. 

A shiver runs through you, and you curl into yourself, but thankfully you still don't wake. Bucky has no idea how he’d explain this to you anyway. 

Still, he quietly makes his way towards you, shrugging off his jacket and draping it across you carefully, watching as you relax again.

He blows out an exhale, watching the minutes tick by. 

“Do you think we’re gonna get old here or do we reset every time the loop resets?” you ask aloud.

“Our clothes kept regenerating with us, so I guess we keep resetting too.”

You hum. “Damn, we can’t even grow old together.”

Bucky adds nothing, only turning to you with a deadpan expression.

“What?” you ask.

“What?” he counters. “No old person jokes this time?”

“There’s no fun if you're expecting it,” you sigh.

“Incredible,” he replies, monotonous. 

There’s silence. He hears wind rustle through the room. 

You sit up, and he can feel your eyes boring into him. 

“What?” he asks again.

“Does it upset you?” you ask somberly. “When I make those jokes?”

“No,” he replies. “They’re fine.”

“And when I keep using pickup lines on you– does that make you uncomfortable?” you continue, however, much to his surprise. 

He turns to you with his eyebrows lowered. “Since when does that matter?”

“It matters,” you say quietly. “I knew it annoyed you, I didn’t know they made you uncomfortable.” 

He stares at you for a long while, before settling on, “They don’t.”

“Sure?”

“I don’t care.” He looks ahead. “I’ll tell you if they do.” 

“Okay,” you relent. “If you say so.”

He shakes his head, feeling a strange sort of feeling settle in his chest. He can’t say he hates it, but he would rather not deal with it.

“Bein’ in here’s making you weird.”

You narrow your eyes. “The fuck does that mean?”

“You know what it means,” he asserts. 

“I’m being totally normal, you’ve just refused to hang out with me so you wouldn’t know what that is.”

“I see you every week.” 

“For video shoots.”

“We hang out otherwise,” he scoffs, suddenly feeling very offended. “We literally went to the store the other day.”

“To buy batteries,” you emphasize. “For the video shoots.”

“We’ve gone to the park,” he exclaims, sitting up. “And we eat lunch together sometimes. And we watched that stupid fuckin’ movie in theatres at midnight twice because you lied the second time and told me it was another one – what was it called? Metropolis?”

“Megalopolis,” you say, amused at his outburst. 

“That. Garbage fuckshit. And we’ve taken the cat–”

“Alpine.”

“I know her name,” he hisses. “To the vet. And that’s all in the last month.”

“Jeez, you keep a journal every time we hang out? What are you, obsessed with me?” you ask, trying to bite back a shit-eating grin. 

“Point is,” he grits. “We hang out.”

Fuck. Turns out, maybe Steve was right.

“Tomato, tomahto,” you dismiss. “You’re so obsessed with details. You could’ve just said you’re in love with me and moved on instead of bringing out the whole Excel sheet of every minute we spent together.”

“I hate you,” he groans, dropping back down.

You laugh. It makes the corner of his mouth curl up, just a little.  

“What’s the time?” he asks, blowing out an exhale from his nose.

“Like 11:30?,” you sigh.

“That’s all?” He wants to groan again. 

“Does it matter? We’re stuck here forever. We can get more takeout in the next loop.”

“You’re paying.”

“I paid last time, asshole.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Tomato, tomahto.” 

“Touché.” 

You spin a gear in the air, waiting for the hour to pass.

It suddenly hits him. Something that you'd shown across episodes of witchcraft and haunted hospitals. 

Something you showed literally three minutes ago. 

If this worked, he’d probably hug you and your stupid, chaos incarnate self.  

“Come on, let’s get this clock fixed,” he grumbles, getting back up on his feet. 

“What?” 

“I think you’re right,” he says, sticking his arm out to help you up. 

“Huh?” you blink at him. “I know the footage is gonna get erased again, but I need you to say that into the camera once for me. And state that you’re of sound mind and body while you’re at it.”

He sends you a look. “Come on.”

“I fixed it already, Bucky.”

“What’s the time?” He ignores you.

“Nearly 12,” you tell him, checking your phone. 

“Need you to be precise.”

“Why?”

“Humour me,” he says calmly. “Details are for losers, remember?”

“11:57 and 32 seconds.”

He manually winds the big arm up, the short hand still following. Until the seconds ticker matches the time you were calling out, down to the last second.

“What are you doing?” you enquire curiously, peeking over his shoulder.

“Making it match real time,” he tells you. “Properly.”

He checkes gears and pushes pendulums and everything works like it’s brand new. You’d gotten real good at this. 

“11:59 and 43 seconds,” you call.  

Bucky closes his eyes, forcing his breath to remain steady. It’s the first time that evening he’s had more than a sliver of hope. 

“57 seconds,” you say quietly, voice tired. 

And then there's silence. 

He doesn't have the energy to open his eyes and find the machinery back to scraps. 

But eventually he does. And when he opens it again, you’re still standing there, near the machine. Not the entrance of the room. 

The clock reads 12:02.

He turns to you, calmly saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

The drive back home is silent, apprehensive with tension tight as a stretched rubber band. Like if you breathed too hard, you'd find yourself back in the dark room. 

You step in the elevator together, pressing the buttons for your floor and his. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the fear or the fact that you've now spent several hours together when time didn’t make sense, but the ride up is slower than usual. 

Bucky stands with his back pressed to the wall of the elevator, eyes closed, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“It never occured to me,” your voice is quiet. “It’s the one thing I didn’t think of because I was so focused on getting out.”

“Didn't think of it either.” Bucky’s shoulders shrug, eyes closed. “Not your fault.” 

“Kinda is.”

“I would've realised earlier if I paid attention,” he counters. 

You stare at him. 

“Are you done or should I keep going?”

You blow out an exhale. “This game sucks.”

“Don't play this shit with me. It's the one thing I'm good at.”

The elevator dings, creeping open on his floor.

He stays right where, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“It's your floor,” you inform.

“I know.”

The door waits a few seconds before it closes.

It finally reaches your floor, opening with a bright ding. 

He watches you step out, casting an unsure look towards him.

You gesture awkwardly, “Do you need anything?”

“Nah,” he says, eyes still closed. 

“What are– oh,” you stop all of a sudden. “Is this your way of walking me to my door?”

Bucky’s face doesn’t betray any expression. “See you later.”

You fight a smile, raising two fingers to give him a wave. 

He gives you a small nod as the door closes on him, reaching forward to press the button to his floor again.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to know when this fic updates, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications! it's the only way tumblr will let me have a taglist </3

[thanosscross]

Can I request a enemies to lovers with thanos?

I love ur writing n his character ty!

of course!! We love Thanos in this household <3 and thank you <3 I absolutely love the support I've been getting just in the one day this accounts been up <3 I do wanna say thank you guys along with a thank you to my fiancee with her amazing help with this <3 >< while I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers I'm terrible at writing pre-relationship fight scenes without a full blueprint, so my fiancee's help and obsession with the Enemies to Lovers trope definitely made this story into what it is <33

I fucking hate you - Choi Su-bong/Thanos x reader

Summary: You vowed to always hate Choi Su-bong, not only did he ruin your life but he was also just an asshole. Su-bong vowed to always hate y/n not only was she a bitch she costed him his only shot at a big rap career, so what happens whenever you two see each other after years in a death game for cash?

warnings: none really? Thanos being an ass for about..the first half

Growing up with Choi Su-Bong was your personal hell, he was your neighbor, and he always had something to bitch about towards you, always calling you out in front of the school, even going as far as coming up with MULTIPLE different stories to make you lose your spot as top of the class. Su-bong ruined your chance at any good future, forcing you to stay trapped in the same neighborhood you grew up in, while he started his rap career.

It wasn't like you were innocent either, while Su-bong went for public humiliation with your shared classmates, you went for his parents, charming them with your nice good girl demeanor, becoming his 'babysitter' (They never trusted Su-bong alone, even at 16/17) and tutor, snitching him out for any little thing you could find out about, making his home life even more of a personal hell for him. So you both hated each other for pretty respected reasons, you ruined each others potential futures, and never acknowledged it. After he moved away with his rap career blowing up, you thought you were finally free of him and his constantly ruining your life, until the debt came. Your mom got sick, your dad up and left one day, so financials were solely on you, shoving you deep into thousands of wons in debt.

You were close to ending it, going on a walk towards the old trainyards, whenever you ran into a way too well dressed man to be there, he offered you a fix, something you took without a second thought.

Red light, Greenlight was going great, until you and everybody else realized you weren't just being taking out of the running for the cash, you were risking your life. You stood frozen, keeping your eyes squeezed shut as you waited for the doll to turn back around "Holy shit! Holy shit! Y/n!?" You heard a grating voice shout out behind you, of course he was here, why couldn't you ever do something without him ruining it. Standing still, not wanting to move until you were allowed to, you continued to hear Thanos's shouts, as greenlight was called, you tried to hide yourself in the crowd, not wanting to interact with him, but, like always, he found someway to ruin it for you. As red light was called, Thanos's high ass skipped over slamming into you almost knocking you off of your feet, before you could make contact with the ground, two arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against him, smirking as he used to opportunity of being stuck on redlight to be close to you "Y/n! What are you doin here!?" He gasped practically shouting in your face, as the doll's head turned again you shoved him back "Let go of me, you fucking drug addict, we are NOT friends" You seethed, okay so maybe you blamed Su-bong for a alot of things that happened after he left, but you didn't care, he was an easy person to blame.

Thanos gave an overdramatic pained expression as he rested a hand on his chest, rushing to stay caught up with you "C'mon! Y/n!" He shouted spinning around you to face you as the doll's head spun "Su-Bong! Please! Leave me alone! We aren't friends! We never fucking were! I hate you! I fucking hate you so much! You ruined my fucking life!" You growled trying to hide your body behind his to keep you out of view of the doll "Psh! I ruined your life!? You ruined my life! Do you not understand that!?" He shouted, his excited playful demeanor shifted, he was angry now, how dare you say that? You were at every corner to him ruining his life. You felt the same about him though, especially right now "I didn't do shit!" You scoffed "You did drugs! In school! So yea! I told your parents! So you told everybody in school including the principal and my parents that I've fucked every teacher since the start of high school!" You shouted "I got kicked out of school for the rest of the year! Do you know how bad that ruined my life!?" You finished punching his chest as hard as you could "Uhm! Ow! And you didn't just tell my parents! I was about to sign on to a recording label and you fucked that up for me being a bitch!" He argued, if it weren't for the fact the Doll's head still faced towards you, you were sure that you would've stormed off by now.

You took off as soon as the doll's head turned back around, making it past the red colored line in the sand, trying to stay away from everybody until it was lights out. You were almost successful, until somebody used their bodyweight and arm to pin you against the wall "Why can't you just admit that you were a bitch?" He snapped, only now did you realize it was your walking curse, Su-bong "Why can't you just admit you're an arrogant asshole who only cares about himself" You snapped, trying to shove him away like usual, but this time was different than all the other times growing up, this time he didn't stumble, his body didn't even shift under it, he just stood there stiff, you'd be lying if you said it didn't scare you a little bit, now realizing maybe those times you 'beat his ass' he let you, because now, feeling trapped between him and the wall, your shoves and hits not phasing him in the slightest, truly shook you to your core with fear, he could do anything at this point, you couldn't let him see though, you'd just feed into his stupid cocky attitude even more.

"Admit. You. ruined. everything. for me. bitch" he seethed, Su-bong leaning closer to your face, you could feel his breath on your face at this point.

Su-bong smiled, the look on your face was one he had been trying to get for years, who knew all it took was just hiding the face a few punches really fuckin hurt "Go on. say it" He whispered, you shivered, your panicked eyes scanning over his face, before taking in a shaky breath "Let me go" You snapped before a hand landed on Su-bong's shoulder "The young lady said to let her go, I advise you do so" A man threatened from behind, Su-bong smirked slowly turning around before realizing the man was about half a foot taller than him "Fine. fine. but she'll admit eventually" Su-bong said, giving you one last glare, before the man, number 001, stepped closer "I'm Young Il, who was that guy?" He introduced himself watching as you fixing your jacket and huffed "An asshole I used to live by, I'm y/n" You explained, he nodded, offering you take you over to where him and his friends sat.

Thanos sat next to his bunk, watching you closely, he couldn't describe it, but seeing you talking to somebody else made him feel crazier than any drug, it had always been that way, the entire reason he started hating you was because you were always interested in everybody except him, and it pissed him off, he knew he was hot, he knew he could ask out just about any girl he sees who knows him and she'll be ecstatic, but you acted like he was scum, just because he took some pills and smoked some weed to feel better about things. Nam-Gyu huffed, noticing his friend hadn't been listening that entire time he was talking, he followed his eye line, noticing you laughing and talking with two of the men from before, the crazy guy and the one who stopped them from beating that stealing bitcoin asshole's ass.

As the lights went out, Su-bong stayed in his place, watching say your goodnights to the group you had been with, he knew you had to walk right by him to get to your bunk, he knew yours was the one right next to his, thank god. As you approached him, you never realized until you were basically tripping over him on the stairs, scoffing you caught yourself on the bed "Seriously?" You growled, letting yourself fall onto your bed, as he took in your location, he slowly crawled to you "Join my team" he offered, you laughed loudly, quickly covering your mouth to not disturb the other players "Yea...no" You laughed looking at him, you couldn't see it in the dark, but Su-bong got visibly pissed off with your response "It wasn't a question" He demanded, glaring at you, you wanted so badly to just punch him in the head, but you just turned your back to him "Goodnight su-bong" He stopped at your reply, yes you weren't agreeing, but that was the first somewhat nice thing you had said to him in awhile, even if it was to cut him off and end the conversation he wasn't done with. Huffing and falling back onto his bed, he laid on his side to watch you, half because if you got killed, he'd be damned if it was anybody but him doing the deed, and half because he didn't want you sneaking off to go lay with the old dick that interrupted him from earlier.

He watched you toss and turn for hours, not really knowing when you fell asleep because he had passed out himself, waking up whenever the loud trumpets sounded off, and the lights flicked on, he slowly sat up, quickly checking his necklace was still around his neck, and you were still in bed. You were, your blanket wrapped tightly around you, Su-bong marveled for a moment, before realizing you were still deep in sleep, unphased by the loud music and lights. He slowly moved across the stairway, ghosting a hand over your back "Y/n. Y/n it's to wake up" He said, trying to be loud enough to wake you up, you did infact wake up, but with a jolt, turning quickly and grabbing Su-bong's hand, stopping at the very last second before your fist connected with his jaw "Hey!" He protested, attempting to lean out of the way "The next game is gonna start"

The next game you played was six legs, which went as smoothly as it could have been, you stuck with Young-Il and his friends, which in the end you realized was a good choice. Making your way through dinner and lights out was your next issue, Su-bong was starting to get on your nerves and you couldn't understand why he was so clingy all of a sudden "I thought I said to join my team?" he asked you, the lights had gone out long ago, and your back was to him "And i thought I laughed in your face and told you no?" You asked turning on your side to face him "I don't like that guy, or you being around him" He stated, going to lean closer to you but you beat him to it, shoving your finger at his chest "I don't care, young-il is sweet and cares about me, unlike some people! Su-bong you are the most selfish person I fucking know, who knows if I would be betrayed and killed because of you! You ruined everything I worked so hard for! ruined my name! And you think you can boss me around!?" You shouted, every shout followed by a harsh hit to the shoulder or chest, you couldn't help it, he pissed you off. Su-bong was feeling something else though, the more you shouted at him, the more his eyes were drawn your lips rather than your words, You were too caught up in your shouts to notice though, that was until his fingers rested on your chin tilting your head up so you were making direct eye contact "Shut up." He demanded "Just go to bed, whatever the game is, you'll need sleep" He explained, you were too stunned to say anything, instead just ripping your head away from him and laying down in your bed "You shut up" You grumbled, trying to hide your flustered face, no way you were about to show or admit that you were flustered by that selfish dick.

During Mingle you tried to stick with Young-il, but Nam-Gyu, Su-Bong, and Min-su kept grabbing you and forcefully taking you with them, until it just turned into just Su-bong pulling you into a room with him "Why can't you just leave me alone!?" You cried out, you were trying so hard to avoid him, and yet he was trying his best to run into you. "I told you to stay away from young il" his voice was low and deep, you glared at him, you thought you made yourself clear last night, before you could start back up though, Su-bong was right in front of you, leaning down and pressing a finger to your lips "Don't wanna hear it" He interrupted before looking at you "Why don't you want me?" He asked tilting his head, you glared at him "Because you're a selfish self entitled asshole?" You asked like it was obvious, Su-bong huffed "Even in school, every chick wanted me, why not you?" He asked tilting his head, you just rolled your eyes "Just because I don't throw myself at you, doesn't mean I never wanted you, you just ruined it by being you" You huffed, sighing in relief hearing the lock unlock, you rushed out, desperate to just get back to the room.

Meal time was weird, you surprised yourself by sitting with Su-bong and his friends, Thanos quickly leaning over, pulling you down to sit across from him, smirking at you "Welcome to the Thanos world" He said, you just rolled your eyes at him scoffing "Don't ruin it" You warned raising an eyebrow, you continued to eat your food, finally opening your milk taking a huge drink, normally it wouldn't be your choice of drink to chug, but after running around so much, you needed literally anything. You heard Su-bong scoff this time, causing you to look up at him confused "Why do women drink something leave it on their lip, and act like they don't know?" He asked aloud, but by his eye contact you could tell it was directed towards you "I'm sorry?" You asked going to wipe your mouth but he leaned up quickly "Don't! That's disgusting" He grimaced before leaning over the stairwell to copy his actions from the night before, using his index and thumb to tilt your head up, thinking he was going to wipe it off with his jacket, you were shocked to feel his soft lips against yours. You shuddered feeling his tongue swipe swiftly over your top lip before he pulled away sitting back down, continuing to eat like he didn't just do that.

Your cheeks were bright with a blush as you now sipped the rest of your milk, careful not to get anymore on your lips, if you did, you made sure to lick your lips before Su-bong could take notice. Any crumbs left on your lips after you were done eating he was also quick to wipe those off, almost like you couldn't on your own or you needed to be supervised while you ate. Whenever lights out came it was even more odd, instead of his usual crawling over to bother you, he quietly whispered your name from his spot on his bunk "What?" You asked, your tone coming off a little bit more harsh than you intended "Sorry...it's just, did you mean what you said earlier?" He asked, you sighed turning around to face him "I thought you were really hot for awhile, all of my friends knew it, it's just, you started acting like an ass, and then I lost a trip to college because of you" You explained "And I guess I just didn't have time to think like that because I was busy being mad at you" you explained, you watched him frown and his eyebrows furrow in confusion "I..I never meant to do that..I just wanted you to like..get in trouble or something" He whispered "I was just...You planted my friends drugs on me, told my parents and I couldn't make it to a meeting I had that could've launched my rap career into space" He whispered, now it was your turn to feel bad, you didn't mean to do all of that, just get him grounded for a little bit. It was your turn to crawl to his bunk, giving him a awkward hug "I..I didn't mean to do that..I just..you ruined that for me and you were just getting off without any troubles..parties every week, so..I thought if I took the parties and stuff away it'd give you some type of punishment" you mumbled, Su-bong leaned up hugging you back "Yea..You were pretty lame" He whispered nodding along to agree with his own comment "Shut up, you were a stupid idiot" You defended pulling away from the hug "Why did I ever think I could forgive you" You giggled, tilting your head slightly as you smiled at him, never would you have thought you'd be having a civil conversation with this dickhead, let alone laughing and smiling with him "Aw, c'mon beauty flower, everybody forgives thanos" He teased, you gawked at him in second hand embarrassment, he did not just say that. "I actually fucking hate you" You said, the smile on your face an obvious sign that maybe you didn't hate him as much as you say. "What? Beauty flower? or the fact that you'll forgive me" He asked wiggling his eyebrows at you, you just laughed, you felt like a young teenager again, before your feud started with Su-bong and the drugs and debt started with you both. "Both! Don't call me beauty flower, and I will not be forgiving you" You protested, Su-bong pouted, you took your chance to shock him this time and pressed your lips against his pouting ones, his hand immediately came in contact with your ass trying to pull you closer, you just rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand moving it to your cheek pressing your lips completely against his, taking a breath of relief whenever he kissed back, his lips moving with yours like it had been rehearsed before. As you pulled away, Su-bong huffed tugging his tracksuit pants down "Now I fucking hate you" He smirked reaching for his necklace "Me first" You smirked before moving back to your bunk giving him a final wink before turning around "Goodnight...thanos" You said, not being able to believe you actually just called him that "Night, pretty girl" you heard say with a large amount of cockiness in his voice, he couldn't help it though, even now if he went home, he'd have enough for his debts, and just kissed the girls he's wanted to kiss since he learned what kissing girls was.

--

so what do we think?

[lkblackham]

Had the image of a half human, half Qunari baby pop in my head and got some good therapy practicing drawing cute babies.

Being the child of a nurse-midwife, I have witnessed many births and many different kinds of new dads (on video, to be clear - my mom didn't drag me around to births in person). And so, it is my belief that Emmrich would definitely be the weepy type of new dad. I love those dads.

My personal fanfic headcanon stuff that may or may not be cringe, I make no apologies:

1) Qunari kids, much like goats, do not fully grow their horns until they hit puberty. Which is definitely for the best, because a) birth OUCH and b) can you imagine a hyperactive 2-year-old running around with what amounts to two giant spears attached to their head?

So for the first 12+ years of their life, they just have cute lil forehead nubbins that still really hurt when they headbutt you during a tantrum.

2) It's a girl. Because we all know that Emmrich has strong Girl Dad energy.

3) Atash and Emmrich had a really tough time with names - both given names and surnames. Atash isn't particularly attached to her surname (Laidir) and so was totally fine with just 'Volkarin' for their kid. Emmrich was insistent on including 'Laidir', however, as he felt very strongly about Atash's heritage and story sharing an equal part with his in naming their daughter. So she's got 2 last names - one for Nevarra and one for Rivain. She can pick whichever she prefers, or neither, or both. What matters is that both are there to begin with.

This line of thinking also, obviously, complicated the given name. It's really hard when you're pretty certain this is going to be your only kid, and you're from two very different cultures with their own ideas about names, AND you have a rather tragically long list of people you love who have passed on and deserve to have a child named after them. Not to mention, both of you have names you just personally like, saved away in your head just in case you ever did have a kid to name.

In the end, Atash and Emmrich came up with a compromise, for which they really hope their daughter won't resent them in the future: they gave her *four* names. One for a family member, one for a fallen friend, one for her Qunari heritage, and one that's just hers and no one else's.

So, all together, it came to:

Lobelia Elannora Lace Nazay Laidir Volkarin

It's. It's a lot. Atash and Emmrich both acknowledge that. But it felt wrong to not include those tributes in their daughter's name.

Besides, this just means she has a lot of options, right? Right? Right. Definitely.

(They also acknowledge that Lace Harding would think this was absolutely ridiculous and laugh at them over it, but that mental image being there is part of why they did it)

And yes, of COURSE they chose a flower name.

4) Manfred is really friggin excited to get the chance to watch someone grow up and maybe teach THEM some things himself. Emmrich is really friggin excited on both a personal and academic level to raise his daughter alongside his ward, teaching her about spirits while Manfred learns from her about mortals.

Manfred's also a really great diaper changer because he doesn't have a nose and he's not squeamish about literally anything.

(Not that Atash or Emmrich take advantage of this.)

(Often.)

BY THE WAY, VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: I do not believe that the default Happy Ending for everyone is having kids. In another universe, Emmrich and Rook are just as happy teaching Manfred how to be a person and mage (or not, if Emmrich became a lich) and going off on their own kid-free adventures. YOU MAKE THE CHOICES THAT ARE BEST FOR YOU and fuck what the tropes say.

This is just *my* fantasy cringe fluff. You do you. ♥️

[dafna-mir]

Lol, what if Danny stays a cat because it's easier for him

….

Damian had been an older brother for six months now. That's quite a lot, although it doesn't compare to the fact that Danyal was one for almost 9 full years in Damian's life.

There's nothing wrong with that, because considering that his younger brother was in the form of a cat all the time, he'll be able to catch up in a moment.

…

Tim was Danny's secret favorite. Probably because he was the first to give a gift on arrival.

Damian can respect this, and reserves for Timothy the right to escape from the battlefield and not be disgraced.

As an older brother, he won't do any more favors.

…

Well, that mission was disgusting.

They took his weapon away from him and told him to "stay out"

Ugh, Father is getting more and more paranoid, not giving him a chance to prove himself.

Disgusting and unpleasant.

Danyal goes with him to the kitchen, all the while trying to get his point across.

Despite the fact that Damian had learned feline, cats spoke body language. And he deliberately ignores Danyal.

He bursts into the kitchen, where only Tim is sitting, having just returned from work.

Well, him don't care about him. At Tim, at his father, and at his mother, who decided that he was better off with his father.

— Damian! — he doesn't pay attention, pouring water, — Damian Al'Ghul, I said "no"!

He turns to look at his brother.

Danyal was leaning on the table with both hands, wearing a Nightwing hoodie… He was older than when Damian had seen him. Naturally, almost four years have passed… And..

— Did you steal my hoodie?

Danyal straightened up, putting his hands on his hips

— I bought it at the comicon, it's mine… Wait, do you have a Nightwing hoodie too?

— I wanted to go with Wonder Woman, but they sold out, — Damian shrugs, gulping down a glass of water, — And anyway... — he glances at Timothy, who froze with a half-eaten cookie, looking at him and then at his younger brother, — Timothy, I'm going to start a rebellion against my father's tyranny, and go to Sweden, I need an escort, do you have anyone in mind?

— I can be an escort! — Danyal hits the table again, — This is a family event, we don't need anyone else.

— Last time you became a cat

— Just think, — Danyal waves his hand, as if it were something unreal, — Oh, give Jason!

— Todd will find some kind of cult again, and disappear for a week.

— Cass?

— She's in Hong Kong.

— Tim?

— I don't want him to lose any organs again!

— How do you know that? — Timothy, who had been watching the exchange for a while, started up like a baby bird.

— Grandpa was bragging,— Danyal answers instead, sitting down on a chair, — Alfred?

Damian thinks about it. Alfred is not a good option. He's perfect… Did he agree to this for the sake of rebellion?

— Tim, do you want to go to Norway? Danyal asked, grabbing one of the cookies from Timothy's pack.

—Weren't you going to Sweden?

— Yes, it doesn't matter where, as long as it's there! — his beloved brother noticed, eating a cookie in one bite.

— Okay, I'll go, — Tim said, finishing his expired coffee, — I'm also "rebelling" against Bruce, — he made the picks, and when he got up, he looked directly at Damian, — I'll ask Alfred and Jason if they want to.

Damian opened the door to his room and walked in, the door slipping shut behind him as his brother jumped down from his shoulders to the floor and smoothly slipping into a stretch before moving over to and jumping onto their bed.

"We're going to be living with father." Damian stated, not that he needed to.

"Mrroow." Was his answer.

Damian frowned, tilting his head to the side a smidge as he walked over to the bed. "Are you not pleased?" He asked, watching as Daniel rolled over onto his back, paws hanging in the air as he huffed. "Father is a great man, it only makes sense that Mother would send us to him one day. I believed you had already expected this."

"Meow."

Damian's frown shifted back to his neutral scowl, before humming in acknowledgement.

"Ah, you are upset that you won't be claiming the inheritance?" Damian snorted, crossing his arms as he looked down at his younger brother. "You lost the battle, dear brother. Naturally, the title of Robin falls to me." He stated, uncrossing his arms and slipping off one of his gloves to flick Danny on the nose.

It was Daniel's turn to snort, before he snagged a finger between his teeth and bite down hard enough to draw blood.

Damian's eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit.

Daniel looked up at him innocently as he licked the wound he made with his tongue.

Damian sighed.

"You're lucky you are rather adorable, little brother." He said, moving his fingers to rub beneath Danny's chin. To which he let out a content purr as Damian's expression settled back to neutrality.

"How do you want me to refer to you?" He asked after a few moments, causing Danny to look up at him curiously from where he was laid out, his brother's hand over his stomach. Damian tilted his head slightly. "Brother-in-arms, or my brother?"

"Miao."

"Pick one, Daniel." Damian stated, pausing the belly rubs to look at his brother before resuming when a paw patted against his wrist lightly. "I am not allowing them to refer to you as a simple pet."

Danny gave him a flat look, before huffing.

Damian hummed.

"You're right," Damian nodded. "Being underestimated would be useful against Father's false children. It would do well to have more cards to pick off our competition." He said slowly, looking into Danny's eyes. "But are you certain? There is a chance they would believe us."

Danny reached up to swat Damian's cheek lightly with his paw, a look equally as flat as the first being sent his way.

"Hm." Alright, Damian would give him this one. "You're right, if even Grandfather and Mother doubts that you truly are my brother, then the chances of Father believing so are low."

Daniel let out a smug purr, happy that Damian saw his way.

Damian let out a sigh.

His brother truly was lucky that he was the most adorable creature Damian had ever laid his eyes upon. Of course, his little brother was undeniably the cutest before his death, yet coming back as a cat (that as far as Mother, Grandfather, and the rest of the League were concerned. Was merely a pit creature that had taken a liking to their heir)?

Well.

Damian wasn't one to complain about his brother's return.

No matter what form he takes.

[pencil-n-pen]

SPILL YOUR GUTS

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

practice boyfriend! eddie x fem! reader

summary: eddie’s your practice boyfriend. you’re positive he’s upset at you and you’re waiting for him to get mad. however, he has a different response in mind.

cw: references/allusions to past child abuse but extremely vague, references/allusions to bad relationships (also pretty vague), reader acts on a learned response and assumes the worst about Eddie, anxiety

tags/tropes: angst, hurt/comfort (my brand!) sappy sappy romantic idiots, they kiss and figure their mess out at the end

a/n: this came to me in a vision

summary makes this sound smutty but i promise it’s not. this accidentally became disgustingly romantic. read at your own risk :)

࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

You’re positive Eddie’s mad at you.

Okay. Maybe positive is a strong word. But still.

You’ve only been fake/pretend/practice dating Eddie for about two weeks now. He’s the one who approached you with the offer— when you were in the Upside Down together, you’d made an off-hand comment about how you might die without ever having a real boyfriend- not one that mattered, anyway. It’s always kind of been a sore spot for you for a good portion of your life. Growing up, you didn’t really have the best relationship with your dad (Robin likes to call that “The understatement of the year, and we almost died.”) and out of the incredibly small handful of guys you’ve gone out with, none stuck around longer than a month and all ended in such equally, specifically, and uniquely horrific ways, you finally came to the conclusion you had to be fucking something up. What are the chances of all them ended so completely horribly?

After you all had decidedly not died in the Upside Down, Eddie approached you with an offer: pretend date him. You’re popular and well known enough that it’ll help get people off his back about the whole Chrissy/murders thing —even though he’s been absolved of all charges, the people of Hawkins hold grudges— and in exchange, you get a trial run of a relationship that won’t end unless you both agree too— you get to figure out what you’re doing wrong.

You feel bad about it, because even though you spend so much time together, you feel like a nervous wreck. All. The. Time.

You’re constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop— waiting for him to tell you that you’re too weird, that you’re not considerate enough, that you’re selfish, or that you talk too much.

But he never says any of it. All he ever tells you is the good things. He tells you how sympathetic you are, how kind you are, how good you are at remembering little details that matter. He tells you that you’re a good kisser.

(Yeah. Your first kiss, even after those failed relationships, ended up being with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. You’re not quite sure you’ll ever forget how you felt when his lips —just a little cracked, but not rough— met yours; when his hair tickled your face and you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clings to all of his clothes, no matter how many times he washes them. You didn’t tell him he was your first. That’s something you decided you couldn’t bear to share.

You kind of have a feeling he knows anyway, though.)

It all sets you on edge. You’re under no reassurance that you’re perfect. You’re currently questioning if you’re tolerable, from a romantic standpoint.

You know how you are. You’re clinging and you drink up reassurance like a dying man in the desert. You linger in his casual touches like it’s the first and last time you’ll ever feel them. You know you’re a lot. You know. You know that guys in a relationship don’t want ‘a lot’, they want a pretty thing to hang off their arm and laugh at what they say.

But you just… can’t.

You tried, and you tried, and you tried. But you always ended up being too much, or it didn’t work out for some other reason. You want more. You want to feel safe, and happy, and cherished and loved and all those things that only happen in the movies.

The ironic part of all of this is that when you first started setting out terms for your arrangement, Eddie had told you flat out: “This will only work if you are completely and one-hundred percent yourself. You gotta lay it all on me, angel.”

And so you had, and now you regret it because he’s upset about something.

You’d come over to his trailer at his request to ‘hang out’ while he went over DND stuff for his next campaign. Eddie does this a lot— he calls them ‘Neutral Dates’ where you’re not really doing anything in particular- most of the time, you’re both doing seperate things, but still just being in each other’s presence.

It’s nice. The majority of your friend circle consists of everyone involved with the Upside Down and that entire mess. You two are no Steve and Robin (you’re convinced those two have the kind of bond no one can replicate or break. Like the kind of bond stray cats get and then they have to be adopted together) but it’s still nice. To just be with someone.

Even if you feel like you’re walking on eggshells.

It’s not always eggshells. Sometimes, for a a few moments, you forget. You forget it’s all pretend. You forget he’s just a friend helping a friend fulfill a goal. That’s all.

You’ve almost forgotten just now, too— you’re too concerned about what you might’ve done.

He’s not acting angry, per-se, but he’s definitely upset. You tend to pick up on this kind of thing: small changes in someone’s personality or body language. Most of the time it’s not a conscious habit.

Most of the time.

Right now, he’s run his hands through his hair about a million times. It’s become a frizzy mess behind him, and when you’d made an offhand joke about it —an attempt to lighten the mood— all he’d done was scowl. Not at you, really, but the message was there. You’d snapped your jaw shut so fast you’re pretty sure he heard your teeth click.

After that he’d frustratedly made tea for the both of you, which consisted of opening the cupboards faster than he usually did, closing them slightly louder than he usually does, and drumming his fingers impatiently on the stove-top while he waited for the kettle to boil.

All of this you observed from the corner of your eye while ‘reading’ on the couch.

And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, when you’d finally mustered up the courage to speak again, a little joke about a part in the book you were reading, all he’d said was a flat:

“That’s great, babe.”

You’re starting to get antsy. Nervous. Maybe you should go? Unless he gets upset at you leaving. That would be bad. But he’s clearly upset with you being here, so maybe you should go.

While you’re debating the pros and cons of leaving, you try to remain as still and silent as possible. No need to upset him anymore by moving too much or being too loud.

You flip a page in the book you’re no longer reading (he might notice you’re not paying attention to it anymore) and decide to test the waters again.

“The author just spelled restaurant wrong. That’s the third spelling mistake I’ve caught in this book.”

“Hmm.”

Okay. So that was worse. Talking to him is out of the question, then. It must be something you did, to warrant this kind of reaction.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of anything you could’ve done in recent hours to make him upset, but you can’t think of anything.

You glance slightly to the right— not far enough that he’ll see you looking at him, but far enough to get a better look at him in your peripheral. He’s glaring down at his campaign notebook. Shit, he looks so angry.

Unbidden, tears begin to well in your eyes and you try to shift, trying to angle yourself away from him enough that he can’t see the tears in your eyes.

But your hand shifts, knocking into his leg.

Fuck. “Sorry!”

You yank you arm back as if burned, jolting back on the couch so you’re in no danger of touching him. “I’m sorry!”

He sits up, immediately snapping to attention at the desperation coloring your voice. “Woah woah, hey. Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

You take a steadying breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

He blinks blankly at you. Oh shit, you’re supposed to know that you’ve done something wrong.

“I mean,” You hurry to correct, “I know I— Can you tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it?”

Understanding floods his features and you brace yourself, ready for the reprimand.

“Can I touch you?”

Now it’s your turn to stare with confusion. You nod once, briefly thinking about how weird it is to ask for permission first.

He sits up on the couch, facing you with his legs crossed, the couch springs squeaking loudly at his movement. You resist the urge to wince. He reaches out with a slow hand, taking the hand that’s still clenched, held away from him and up near your chest.

He stares down at your hand, holding it with his left hand and tracing delicate shapes on it with his right. His ringed fingers drag lines around your knuckles and veins, lingering occasionally over the odd, old scar.

“How long did you think I was upset with you?”

Your heart is racing, muscles tensed and ready to bolt. “Um. A few hours? Maybe?”

You’re hyper-aware of the grip he has on your hand, and how quickly and easy it could become crushing.

It doesn’t.

“Bug,” He says slowly after a moment. At first he used to use pet names as a joke— it was something you’d laugh at, between the two of you, since the relationship wasn’t real.

But recently, he’s been saying them with a different inflection in his tone. A little less teasing, a lot more fond.

“Have you spent the past few hours afraid that I was mad at you?”

He sounds… sad. Which is confusing. It doesn’t— he was. He was.

“But you were,” You say, suddenly unsure about anything and everything. “You were upset.”

“I was upset because I couldn’t work this part of the campaign out, and i’m dramatic. I was never mad at you, honey. I was never mad at you.”

You frown, gears turning in your head. “When I made that joke about your hair, you glared at me. And then when I tried to talk to you, you were upset. You didn’t want to talk.”

“I was jokingly glaring at you, I’m so sorry you thought I was serious. I wasn’t, I promise. I didn’t mean to be dismissive, I was really focusing on writing.”

You’re both silent for a moment. A beat too long. You want to squirm in the unwelcome space the silence has created.

“What did you think I was going to do?”

That is a loaded question.

“I don’t know,” You pick at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I don’t— I don’t know. That’s the problem. You don’t yell at me, or get angry, or tell me when i’ve made you upset. I don’t know what you’ll do.”

He makes a wounded noise in his throat.

“I know you get angry,” You bulldoze on, “I’ve seen it. You’re so… loud, in everything you do. I know you get angry. But you never get that same kind of loud angry at me and I don’t know what to do because that means that I upset you and you don’t tell me about it and then I don’t know how to fix it. I have to fix it, Eddie.”

His eyes, deep and brown, search your face. He reaches up a hand, painfully slow, to cup your face. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you tip your head to the side, leaning into the job.

“I’m gonna tell you something, Bug. Are you listening?” He waits for you to hum in confirmation before continuing. “You’re not responsible for my moods. Or anyone else’s for that matter. That’s not your job. You don’t have to fix it.”

He reaches his second hand up to cup the other side of your face. “You know why I don’t get angry at you? Not all loud and dramatic like that? Because I’ve seen how you react when people do. And I never, ever want to be the reason you get that look in your eye. I never want to make you afraid. I never want you to believe, with proof and confidence, that I’ve grown sick of you.”

You open your eyes, eyes darting across the planes of his face. Searching for even the smallest hint, the smallest giveaway that he might be lying.

You can’t find any. In its place, you find eyes, shining with pure determination. You find lips parted ever so slightly, a sad-sort of smile being etched into being. You find two hands on your face, thumbs delicately sweeping across the skin of your under-eye, of your cheekbone. Smoothing away the steady tears that had begun falling, wiping away the hot trails they leave on your face.

And you realize all at once that love isn’t like the movies. It isn’t picture-perfect kisses. It isn’t ball gowns and dresses and kisses in the rain. It isn’t like the love you thought you were supposed to have: empty and hollow; a life of hanging off of arms and praying your next slip-up didn’t cost you your relationship.

It was this.

It was just being. Just being and knowing the other person is there for just that— for you. It was not raising your voice. It was carrying extra hair-ties. It was making two cups of coffee. It was steeping tea for an extra couple of minutes, just the way he liked it. It was playing your favorite music in the car, and looking over at each other during the bridge, belting the lyrics with the same, toothy-smile. So full and so happy you just keep screaming the lyrics, because you’re filled with so much you don’t know where to put it all.

Your tears begin to fall in earnest now. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but for a different reason now. You’re struck with the need to convey all of this to him— to tell him you understand, you know, you feel the same.

“These hair ties,” You shove your wrist up to his eye-line. “They’re for you. Because you always forget your own. And— and I steep the tea for a few extra minutes, because you like your tea strong, and you didn’t just find that tape in your van, I bought it ‘cause I know you lost the old one in the Upside Down, ‘cause it felt out of your pocket.”

You’re babbling, nearly choking on your tears and your words, rushing them all out of your mouth in an aching wish to be understood, in this very moment.

“I know,” He says, voice a little hysteric and eyes a little too bright. His lip wobbles. He presses your face tighter in his hands. “I know. I know. I see you. I see you.”

You stay like that for a little while. At some point, your hands find his wrists, and then you’re just two fools, smiling like idiots with tears streaming down your faces, staring into each others eyes.

Eventually, Eddie clears his throat. “The next time you think I’m upset at you, you tell me, okay? You can ask. You can ask me and I pinky promise I won’t get mad.”

You giggle wetly. “Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear,” He says, taking his left hand away from your face to hold up his pinky. You intertwine yours and his together, the both of you laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

He gets quiet for a moment; removes his hands from your face and instead clasps, your hands together, resting in your lap.

“You know why I never tell you when you’re being a bad practice girlfriend?” He says, his voice low and soft.

“How come?”

He smiles, full and good. “Because you’re not. You’re so sweet and kind and loving. And if you’d let me, I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

You furrow your brows. “The real kind? The I-love-you kind?”

Your face flushes over the words ‘I love you.’

“I’ve always kissed you for real,” He says, words laden with fondness. “Ever since the day we met and you slapped the shit out of me for being stupid. I’ve been hopelessly obsessed ever since. I’ve just been waiting for you to notice.”

You suck in a breath. “So all of this— the, the dates and the hanging out and the kissing— that’s all been real?”

“Every last bit.”

“Then in that case,” You say, squeezing his hands. “I would very much like you to kiss me.”

He leans in, slotting your lips together and everything just clicks. Like this is where you’re meant to be. Maybe it’s puppy love. Maybe it’s not.

All you know is that Eddie Munson is kissing you for real, and he always has been. You couldn’t ask for anything better.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[kaisaerinlover]

Hello! Your stories about big bro sae and rin are so so good and u're doing amazing btw. I was just wondering if we can get a lil bit of a backstory about when it all started, I'm actually really curious about it but no pressure tho u don't need to make it if u don't want to. Anyways I love your lil series about them🫶🥰

hi yes ofc!!!

tw: incest , darkcon

sae and rin always loved you as kids, but they also neglected you alot because you were the youngest itoshi. you’re 3 years younger than sae and 1 year younger than rin and also since you’re the only girl you weren’t really into football as much. they kind of ignored you a lot for football but they did love you. your parents paid more attention to your brothers than you because of their talents in football; also because rin was a bit badly behaved and destructive as a child, so he needed extra attention paid to him, but they didn’t ever teach the itoshi brothers about girls etc because they didn’t really have to. both brothers were only preoccupied with football, their parents were preoccupied with them and that just left the third forgotten daughter.

i think that they wanted three sons, so they gave up after they got a daughter as to not risk it, and as rin and sae grew up they really loathed that there wasn’t a third sibling who could also play soccer; so you were neglected.

probably rin and sae would have developed their weird love/attraction to you when they started going through puberty, because they didn’t really want to be around girls that much; you were the only girl either brother really ever interacted with. and they didn’t have much concept of social norms since they were so invested in soccer their whole lives; so by the time they actually learned it’s wrong they simply didn’t care anymore because their feelings were far too strong to deny. in spain as he got older, and the visits got fewer, sae would be sure to snap a few pics of you, or touch you a bit more than how a brother should his sister, and he would jerk off to it later on. his visits were sparse so he valued all of the time he spent with you, he doesn’t exactly remember when he started realising his feelings but he remembered one incident in specific when you were eating dinner at the table with your parents and rin too and he realised how much you really grew into yourself, you were beautiful. the same lashes as his but they make you look like a princess.

he didn’t fail to notice the way you and rin looked at each other too, the way rin was so… different? the way rin’s hand was on your thigh. the three of you aren’t even sure if your parents know, sae thinks they do know; thinks they don’t care as long as the youngest has a use which helps the two they actually care about excel in their sport.

rin’s attachment to you started after sae left to go to spain, as he grew up and you a little too, he realised you’re all he had left. he grew so attached to you and it turned into a deep attraction which you obviously shared. you loved both of your brothers and being a bit naive and more sheltered, you were less in tune with social norms. you really just went along with what rin wanted. rin never took any interest in other girls before (similarly to sae) and you were the only girl in his life who held any value to him. but nothing really happened yet, you just knew his feelings towards you and returned them graciously. but everything had changed when sae came back on that one particular occasion. it was the very first time he visited from spain, and rin saw the way sae eyed you up. they both felt the same way; rin harboured resentment towards sae so naturally he didn’t like it. he squeezed your thigh in a manner so crude, so unlike him. he wanted to show sae who really owned you.

and that’s how the weird rivalry started, that night, your brothers took your firsts. rin didn’t kiss you before, not properly anyway. sae was in spain by the time he realised his growing affections (and arousal) towards you, so he never got the chance. both of your brothers took all of your firsts. they were really in such a weird competition for you. it would be difficult though because when sae was in spain you tried to text him and call every day, and he indulged you when he could, but you would spend most of your time with rin. so rin and you were attached at the hip for the most part, but then sae would come back and you would cling to him because he would have been gone for so long.

but then rin left you too for blue lock, and they both stopped texting you as much, so then all you could do is watch your brothers play on the tv; the only boys you’ve ever loved; and you were alone at home with nothing. but they came back for you eventually, both did, and that’s how your love evened out a lot kinda. you love them both the same and they’re in their weird rivalry for you. it’s a really weird dynamic but that’s where you would be at right now.

it would honestly start because you guys just lacked supervision and actual attention from your parents. and because they prioritised your brothers over you and didn’t really deem you as their child, just an extension of rin and sae, that’s why if they are aware of anything going on between the three of you they don’t care. rin and sae can do what they want with you because they barely care at all, if it helps them in football and helps them relieve stress so be it. your parents know you’re a good girl (not in a weird way) anyway, and you wouldn’t distract rin and sae from their careers the way they can’t guarantee a girlfriend wouldn’t do either.

rin and sae are really both just perverts in disguise who love their sister far more than they could ever love any girl else. sae would literally steal ur panties whilst he was in spain just to jerk off into them, rin took 3 pairs with him to blue lock as well. they may have left you but the fruits of their hard work were so sweet in the end because now you are showered and pampered in affection every day by them, and their wealth means nothing to them, only if it can buy you a nice gift you like.

they’re just really fucked in the head perverts, and they had eyes for you since you were the only other girl in their life. but they do love you, they love you so much so don’t ever doubt it.

[cherryxbooo]

Hey 😊 I love your writing sooo much !

Would you maybe write a Tim Bradford imagine where you're also a TO and you're having feelings for each other but you both try to ignore them, not to let them get in your way during the job. One time that changes as like in the episodes where Lucy gets kidnapped, it's you instead of her after a date gone wrong. Tim is on the edge the whole time till they find you. And when he sees you in that barrel, barely alive, his world crashes. Of course you can be saved and he stays at the hospital all the time. When you get home he also insists on taking care of you and there he also finds the courage to tell you his feelings properly, how much he loves you and that he'll always be there to protect you. I hope that's okay with you 💗🫶🏼

I’m not going anywhere

Summary: Tim and Y/N, both tough and dedicated TOs, struggle to suppress their growing feelings for each other. When Y/N is abducted after a date goes wrong, Tim refuses to back down, risking everything to find her.

Note: I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, love! 🫶 Thank you for this amazing request, I absolutely love the idea! I decided to give it my own spin to keep it unique and fresh instead of copying the entire episode. I hope you enjoy it! 🤍

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

Being a Training Officer was never easy. You were expected to mold rookies into dependable cops, but it was also your job to keep them alive.

Every shift brought challenges that tested your patience and skills, especially when you worked alongside someone like Tim Bradford.

Tim was a force of nature. His bluntness could crush egos, his discipline was unmatched, and his loyalty ran deeper than any badge.

As a fellow TO, I admired him more than I cared to admit. But admiration had morphed into something more, something complicated.

I had feelings for him. And it was maddening.

Tim was infuriating. He challenged me at every turn, pushed me to my limits, and managed to crawl under my skin like no one else ever had.

But then there were the moments that made my heart ache:

the quiet glances when he thought no one was watching, the softness in his voice when he checked on me after a tough day, the way he never let anyone, rookie or otherwise, disrespect me.

We would also text each other back and forth to check in on one another.

It got to the point where if one of us didn’t respond within an hour, we assumed something was wrong.

That’s what normal colleagues do, right? Checking up on one another, or am I just fooling myself?

For months, I’d buried those feelings, telling myself that they were a distraction I couldn’t afford.

This job was dangerous enough without the added complication of being in love with my colleague.

Still, there were moments when I wondered if he felt the same.

I mean, someone like Tim Bradford wouldn’t just know my favorite coffee order for no reason, right?

The station was already filled with people when I arrived, the smell of burnt coffee and stale paperwork filling the air.

I was halfway to my desk when I heard Tim’s voice behind me.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he said, stepping beside me.

“Good morning to you too, Bradford,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“I’m serious,” he said, giving me a once-over and putting the coffee he got me down on my desk.

“Late night?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, collapsing into my chair.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Work-related?”

“No.”

He didn’t ask further, but the tension in his jaw told me he wanted to.

The truth was, I’d been on another date last night.

For weeks, I’d been trying to distract myself from my feelings for Tim by going out with guys I barely knew.

The dates were always the same, awkward conversations, forced laughter, and a growing sense that I was wasting my time.

But I kept trying, convinced that if I could just find someone else, I’d stop thinking about Tim every second of every day.

“How’s the rookie?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself.

Tim sighed. “Still green, but they’ll get there.”

Before he could say more, Angela appeared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, if it isn’t the dream team,” she teased, leaning against my desk.

“What do you want, Lopez?” Tim asked, crossing his arms.

“Nothing,” she said innocently.

“Just enjoying the sight of you two pretending you’re not completely into each other.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”

Angela smirked. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious to everyone but you two.”

Tim’s ears turned red, and he muttered something under his breath before walking off.

“You really need to do something about that tension,” Angela said, winking at me.

I glared at her. “There is no tension. Besides, I'm going on a date later tonight." I added to make her shut up.

“Sure, but we both know the real reason why you're going on that date,” she said, walking away with a laugh.

I glanced at Tim, who was now at the other end of the room, barking orders at a rookie.

For a moment, our eyes met, and my heart did that stupid fluttering thing I hated so much.

Angela might have been onto something.

That evening after my shift, I found myself sitting across from Eric, my date for the night.

He was tall, dark-haired, and charming in a way that felt almost too polished.

We’d met at a coffee shop a week ago, and while I hadn’t been particularly interested, I’d agreed to go out with him.

“So, what made you say yes?” Eric asked, flashing me a grin.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admitted, sipping my drink.

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I nodded, but my mind wasn’t really on him. As he talked about his job in finance, I found myself comparing him to Tim.

Eric was nice, but he didn’t have Tim’s sharp wit or his quiet strength.

“You’re distracted,” Eric said suddenly, his voice breaking into my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Long day.”

“Let’s fix that,” he said, signaling the bartender for another round. “How about we go somewhere quieter after this?”

I hesitated, knowing I shouldn't agree to go with a stranger but I wanted to forget about Tim.

His charm had a rehearsed quality, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something about Eric felt... off.

But I pushed the thought aside, chalking it up to my overactive imagination.

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile

Eric’s apartment was in a run-down building on the outskirts of the city.

The moment I stepped inside, unease crept up my spine.

The place was sparse, too sparse, and smelled faintly of chemicals.

“Nice place,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

“Thanks,” Eric replied, locking the door behind us.

When I turned to face him, his expression had changed. The easy smile was gone, replaced by something darker.

“You’re a cop, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

I froze. Not understanding why that was important. “What?”

“I saw your badge the other night,” he said, stepping closer.

My heart raced. “Eric, I think you’re confused—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.

“You cops think you’re so smart,” he snarled. “Always sticking your noses where they don’t belong.”

“Let go of me,” I said, trying to pull away.

He didn’t. Instead, he shoved me against the wall, his hand clamping over my mouth.

“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.

Panic surged through me as he dragged me toward a side door. My mind raced, searching for an escape, but he was too strong.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the glint of a syringe in his hand.

When I woke up, my head throbbed, and my body felt heavy. I was in a dark, cold room, my hands bound and my mouth gagged.

Eric stood over me, a twisted smile on his face.

“Slept well, officer?” he taunted.

I glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“You thought you could mess with me?” he continued, pacing. “Well, now you’re going to see what happens when people cross me.”

He opened a barrel in the corner of the room, the metallic smell making my stomach churn.

“No one’s coming for you,” he said, lifting me effortlessly and shoving me inside.

As the lid closed, plunging me into darkness, I fought to stay calm. I couldn’t die here. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Tim paced through the station, his instincts churning. Something was wrong.

He couldn't explain it, but the nagging feeling in his gut had only grown stronger since Y/N hadn’t responded to his messages.

It wasn’t like her to leave him hanging, and she always checked in after her shifts or when she went out.

He tried to push the thought aside, she was a grown woman, capable and strong, but it wouldn’t leave him.

Tim knew her routines, and her habits, and something didn’t add up. He checked his phone again.

Nothing.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling over.

Back at his desk, Tim pulled out his phone and shot her another text:

“You home safe?”

The minutes ticked by, and there was no response.

He told himself she was probably asleep or didn’t hear her phone. She always replied, though. Always.

Another text: “Y/N, call me when you get this.”

Tim stared at the screen, waiting, the worry clawing at him now. He scrolled through their recent messages, trying to reassure himself.

Her last text had been earlier in the evening: “Heading out now. Have fun working your long shift!”

It sounded normal. Casual. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He stepped out into the hallway and called her phone. It rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Y/N, it’s me. Call me back when you get this, alright? Just… let me know you’re okay.”

He hung up, his chest tightening. Something was definitely wrong.

Tim called her again, then again, but there was no answer.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth.

He decided to start with the basics. Heading to Grey’s office, Tim knocked and stepped in without waiting for an answer.

“Bradford, what can I do for you?” Grey asked, looking up from his paperwork.

“Have you seen Y/L/N? She didn’t come back to the station tonight, did she?” Tim asked, keeping his tone steady, though his mind was racing.

Grey shook his head. “No, she clocked out on time. Why?”

Tim hesitated. “No reason just hadn’t heard from her. Thought she might’ve stayed late.”

“Everything okay?” Grey’s perceptive gaze lingered.

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.” Tim turned and left the office, though his gut told him otherwise.

Tim strode into the bullpen, where Angela Lopez and Nyla Harper were deep in conversation over their laptops.

“Have either of you heard from Y/N?” Tim asked abruptly.

Angela looked up, frowning. “Not since this morning. Didn’t she have a date tonight?”

The word date hit Tim like a punch. “Do you know where?”

Angela shook her head. “She didn’t say much, just that it was someone new she met online. Why?”

Tim’s jaw tightened. “She’s not answering her phone.”

Nyla set her coffee down, her sharp instincts immediately kicking in. “How long has it been?”

“Hours,” Tim admitted, his frustration evident. “She always checks in. This isn’t like her.”

Angela exchanged a glance with Nyla.

“Alright,” Nyla said, standing up.

“Let’s figure this out. You said she had a date, does she use any apps? Maybe tech can pull her messages.”

Angela nodded. “She mentioned using something, but I don’t remember the name. Let’s get tech on it.”

Angela grabbed her phone, calling tech support while Nyla placed a calming hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her, Bradford,” she said firmly. “You know Y/N, she’s tough. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

Tim didn’t respond, his jaw clenched tightly.

The bullpen was full of people and their voices, but to Tim, the noise was a distant hum.

His focus was razor-sharp, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ached.

He loomed behind the tech analyst’s desk, the tension radiating off him making the others keep their distance.

Angela and Nyla exchanged concerned glances nearby, but no one dared to interrupt him.

“Anything yet?” he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.

The analyst flinched slightly but kept typing. “I’m pulling her dating app data now. It’s just taking a moment to decrypt the server.”

Tim’s fists clenched at his sides. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Y/N was out there, somewhere, and the thought of her being in danger gnawed at him like a vice around his chest.

Finally, the analyst straightened. “Got something!”

Tim surged forward, leaning over the desk as the analyst brought up a profile on the screen.

“She was messaging a guy named Eric Dawson,” the analyst explained, scrolling through the messages.

“They had arranged to meet at a bar in Eagle Rock.”

Tim’s heart pounded. “What bar?”

“Solana’s Tavern,” the analyst replied.

Nyla crossed her arms, her brow furrowed.

“That area’s rough. Not exactly where you take someone on a first date.”

Tim’s chest tightened further. “Pull traffic cams from outside the bar. I need to know if she made it there and if she left.”

The analyst nodded and got to work, typing furiously. The tension in the room was suffocating as everyone watched the screen in silence.

Tim paced behind the desk, every step heavy with barely restrained anxiety.

“Tim,” Angela said softly, approaching him.

“Maybe you should take a beat. Let us handle this.”

He spun around, his eyes blazing. “No. She’s counting on me. I’m not sitting this one out.”

Angela held up her hands in surrender, backing off.

“Got it!” the analyst said, breaking the silence.

Footage from a traffic camera outside the bar flickered onto the screen.

They watched as Y/N appeared, her expression hesitant as she walked into the bar.

“There she is,” Angela said, pointing at the screen.

Tim leaned closer, his eyes locked on the image of Y/N.

He barely noticed how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the desk.

The analyst fast-forwarded the footage, scanning for her exit. About an hour later, Y/N appeared again, walking out with a man.

The guy had his hand on her arm, his grip firm, his body language all wrong.

“She doesn’t look comfortable,” Nyla said, her voice low.

“He’s leading her. She’s not willingly going with him.”

Tim’s stomach churned. “Run his plates,” he snapped, his tone sharp.

The analyst zoomed in on the car the man guided Y/N towards, pulling up the plate number.

Seconds later, the vehicle’s registration information appeared.

“The car is registered to an address just outside the city,” the analyst said.

“A warehouse on the outskirts of town.”

“That’s it,” Tim said, already moving.

He grabbed his vest and radio. “Gear up. We’re heading there now.”

“Tim,” Grey’s voice called, cutting through the chaos.

Tim stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You need to stay focused,” Grey said firmly, stepping closer.

“I know how much this means to you, but if you’re too emotional, you’ll compromise the operation.”

Tim turned, his eyes hard. “With all due respect sir but again, I’m not sitting this one out.”

Grey studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But keep your head on straight. She’s counting on you, and I can't afford to lose one of my best officers.”

Tim nodded sharply, strapping on his vest.

“Let’s move,” he said to Angela and Nyla, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With the rest of the team following behind.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, a decrepit shell of concrete and rust that felt suffocating even from the outside.

Tim’s heart pounded in his chest as he and the team moved in silently, weapons drawn.

Every instinct screamed at him to hurry, but he forced himself to stay focused.

This wasn’t just another rescue mission. This was Y/N. His Y/N.

And he was barely holding it together.

They moved through the darkened halls, their flashlights sweeping over scattered debris and abandoned machinery.

The air was thick with the smell of oil and mildew, but there was something else, a faint metallic tang that Tim couldn’t quite place.

It turned his stomach.

“Clear,” Angela said, her voice steady as they swept one room after another.

Tim’s jaw clenched. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and with each empty room, the knot in his chest tightened.

“Over here!” Nolan’s voice cut through the tense silence.

Tim turned, his flashlight catching the glint of something metallic in the corner of the room. A row of barrels.

“No...” he whispered, his legs moving before his brain could catch up.

The closer he got, the stronger the smell became, an acrid mix of chemicals and fear.

He dropped to his knees in front of the nearest barrel, his hands trembling as he pried the lid off.

Empty.

He moved to the next one, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Bradford,” Angela said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No!” he snapped, shaking her off. “I’m not stopping.”

The third barrel was heavier. He could feel it as he pulled at the lid, his muscles straining. And then it came loose.

Tim’s flashlight illuminated the inside, and his entire world shattered.

It was her.

Y/N was curled inside, her body limp, her skin pale and clammy. Her wrists were bound, the rope digging so deeply into her skin that blood had dried in angry, red streaks.

Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling so faintly he almost missed it.

“Y/N!” he choked, dropping his flashlight and reaching in to pull her out.

“Get a medic!” Angela yelled, her voice distant as Tim focused solely on Y/N.

He cradled her against his chest, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stay with me.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But then her lips parted, and a barely audible whisper escaped.

“Tim...”

Relief surged through him, hot and overwhelming.

“I’m here,” he said, brushing the hair from her face. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Her head lolled against his chest, and he tightened his grip, as if holding her closer could somehow shield her from everything she’d been through.

The paramedics arrived moments later, but to Tim, it felt like hours.

He reluctantly let them take her, his hands still hovering as if afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t keep touching her.

As they loaded her into the ambulance, Angela placed a hand on his shoulder again. This time, he didn’t shrug it off.

“You did good,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer. All he could think about was the sight of her in that barrel, the life nearly drained out of her.

And how he never wanted to feel that kind of fear again.

The first thing I felt was pain, dull, throbbing, and constant pain.

It was everywhere, but especially in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe deeply without it stabbing me from the inside.

My eyes fluttered open, and I was greeted by a blinding white light that made me squeeze them shut again.

I tried to move, but my body protested. My throat was dry, my lips cracked.

“Y/N?”

The voice was soft, deep, and familiar. I forced my eyes open again, squinting, and slowly turned my head toward the sound.

“Tim…” I croaked, barely above a whisper.

He was right there, leaning forward in the stiff hospital chair like he’d been glued to it for hours.

His hands were gripping mine tightly, and his face was a mixture of relief and worry.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough and unsteady.

His eyes softened as they roamed over my face like he couldn’t believe I was actually there.

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“You’re in the hospital,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You’re safe now. We found you.”

The memories started flooding back. The date. The man. Everything.

My heart rate spiked, and the beeping from the monitor beside me quickened.

“The barrel…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the cold, the suffocating darkness, and the terror that had gripped me when I thought I’d never get out.

Tim’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me.

“It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he said firmly, his voice laced with a quiet rage.

“I thought… I thought I was going to die,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

Tim’s jaw tightened, and he leaned closer. “You didn’t. You fought, Y/N. You held on long enough for us to get to you. And I swear, nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I won’t let it.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I looked at him.

His face etched with so much emotion that it was hard to believe this was the same Tim Bradford who kept his feelings so close to his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Don’t thank me. Just… promise me you’ll be more careful. No more dates with guys like that.”

I let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade.

The drive back to my place was quiet. Tim insisted on taking me home himself after I got discharged.

I didn’t have the energy to argue. My ribs ached with every bump in the road, and the painkillers they’d given me at the hospital were starting to wear off.

When we got to my place, I reached for the door handle, but Tim was faster.

He was already out of the car and opening my door before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt.

“You don’t have to hover, you know,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my voice.

“You’ve barely been out of the hospital for a day,” he shot back, ignoring my attempt to downplay things.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

I didn’t argue. Honestly, I didn’t want to be alone.

Inside, Tim helped me settle on the couch, propping me up with pillows and making sure I had everything within arm’s reach: water, my phone, and even the remote for the TV.

“Comfortable?” he asked, standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

“Yes, officer Bradford,” I teased, giving him a tired smile.

He smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the faint clatter of dishes.

A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me carefully. “Drink. Doctor’s orders.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become so domestic?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down in the armchair across from me.

We sat in silence for a while, the tension between us thick and unspoken.

I sipped my tea, glancing at him occasionally, and each time I did, I caught him staring at me like he was afraid I might disappear.

“You know,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”

Tim frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. End of discussion.”

There was a finality in his tone that told me arguing would be pointless. Still, I couldn’t help but ask,

“Why?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest.

“Because I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly.

Something in his voice made my chest tighten. “Tim…”

“I thought I lost you,” he said, cutting me off.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, all the walls he kept so carefully constructed were gone.

“Do you know what it felt like, finding you like that? You were barely breathing, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things on this job, but nothing ever scared me like that.”

I set the cup down, my hands trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. But I can’t—” He stopped, his voice breaking.

“I can’t go through that again.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice.

“I’m still here, Tim,” I said softly.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “Yeah. You are.”

Later that evening,

The room was quiet, the soft hum of the TV filling the background.

I was cocooned in a blanket, my body still aching, but the dull pain was nothing compared to the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Tim was sitting close, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his presence steady and comforting.

Without thinking, I shifted closer, leaning my head against his shoulder.

It wasn’t intentional, or maybe it was, but it felt natural like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Tim didn’t move. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel him tense slightly under my touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I lifted my head, glancing at him in confusion. “For what?”

“For everything.” His eyes were fixed on the TV, but he wasn’t really watching it.

“For not seeing the signs. For not protecting you. For letting this happen to you.”

“Tim…” I reached out, placing my hand lightly on his arm.

“You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.”

He finally turned to look at me, his blue eyes swirling with guilt, and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put into words.

“That’s not all I’m sorry for.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

Tim hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.

Then, he shifted, turning his body toward me fully. “I’ve been holding something back. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

My heart began to race. I swallowed hard. “Tim…”

He shook his head, cutting me off gently. “Just… let me finish.” He took a deep breath.

“When I saw you in that barrel, when I thought I might lose you, I realized how much I’ve been lying to myself. About you. About us.”

His words hit me like a freight train, and I struggled to find my voice. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He paused, his voice soft but steady.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it because I thought it would mess everything up. The job. Us. But after what happened…”

His voice cracked slightly, his vulnerability breaking through. “I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t lose you without you knowing how I feel.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out the noise of the TV, of the world.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I let out a shaky laugh.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” I whispered.

Tim’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could overthink them.

“I’ve been going on those dates to forget about you.”

His eyes widened, shock flickering across his face. “What?”

“I thought…” My voice cracked, and I looked down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“I thought you’d never feel the same way. I thought if I distracted myself and forced myself to move on, I could stop feeling this way about you. But it never worked. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Tim.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and charged. Then, Tim let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I was scared,” I admitted, finally looking up at him.

“Scared of ruining what we have. Scared of losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

He reached up, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Not now. Not ever.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart swelling with relief, with joy, with everything I’d been holding back for so long.

“You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

Slowly, he leaned in, and my breath caught in my throat.

He gave me every opportunity to pull away, to stop him, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to.

When his lips finally met mine, it was soft and tentative at first, as if we were both still testing the waters.

But then it deepened, carrying months of unspoken emotions, of longing, of everything we’d tried so hard to ignore.

When we finally pulled apart, I let out a breathless laugh, leaning my forehead against his.

“That was a long time coming.”

“You’re telling me,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I pulled back slightly to look at him, my expression turning serious. “What happens now?”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm and filled with a rare tenderness.

“Now, we take it one day at a time. No rush. No pressure. But I promise you this: I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears stung my eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief, of happiness.

I smiled, leaning into his embrace as his arms wrapped securely around me.

“I think I can live with that,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I felt more at peace than I had in weeks.

Maybe even months. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain:

We’d face them together.

The end

[uncle-fruity]

Decided to read the article. I absolutely believe that what the author calls "male flight" has some validity to it, but it doesn't seem to be a reason men have given themselves, and it seems reductive to put the decline of men pursuing education solely on misogyny. Not to say that misogyny isn't a factor, because I agree that the article's thesis lines up with historical trends of devaluing anything seen as "feminine" work, and I know enough sexist men to know that many do have an aversion to being in anything they consider women's spaces. I'm not sure that I fully agree that the main reason men aren't pursuing education is the kind of direct misogyny described in the article, but I also don't have any evidence to the contrary lined up, and it's certainly within the realm of possibility.

Early in the article, the author lists out other reasons that have been cited to partially explain the decline in men's enrollment:

[Image Transcript: Other reasons I came across while researching for this article include:

-- Men can make more money without a college degree than women can, so women need college more.

-- Higher rates of alcohol, drug use, gangs and prison for boys negate college as a viable option.

-- Colleges are usually left-leaning, so right-leaning students increasingly don't feel comfortable there. And more men than women lean right.

-- Men join the military more than women.

-- A man will sometimes have to provide for wife/kids before he can finish college. /End transcript.]

Unfortunately, the author did not give citations for any of those claims, nor did she spend much time explaining why she thought these reasons weren't major factors -- or not as notable as the reason she gives: the rise of women in higher education. It would have been nice to see where that information was coming from. Particularly the point about higher drug and prison rates would be nice to have some context for. To be fair, there is a section just before the part that I cited that does give some sources for some of the other reasons people have attributed to the decline of male enrollment.

And, actually, to be extra fair, I'm gonna post that part as well, because it might be helpful. So this is the part directly before the passage I just cited:

[Image transcript: The Pew Research Center has found that boys are more likely to think they don’t need a degree for the jobs they want, and when they do enroll in college, work opportunities lure them away.

Ruth Simmons, president of A&M University thinks “the problem is the way we treat our boys in k-12. They turn away from school because of the negative messages they get at school… Behavior that is rewarded for boys doesn’t fit well with good student behavior.”

Another college president, Donald Ruff believes it boils down to money. “Honestly I think it’s the sticker shock. To see $100,000 that’s daunting.” /End transcript.]

I have little to add about this passage, I just thought it would be helpful to include.

The author also does not seem to consider race in her argument beyond drawing parallels between white flight and male flight. As far as I could tell, this article gives few statistics about the races involved. Is the influx of women predominantly white or predominantly non-white? When we talk about men not enrolling, is there any racial element being considered -- are non-white men enrolling at higher or lower rates than they used to? Are we talking primarily white men not enrolling, or is this male flight evenly distributed across racial demographics? How do these demographics play out? Because, to me, it seems like misogyny and racism could both be at play here. If more black women than ever are going to college, it is likely that male flight is in tandem with white flight, but to actually make that claim with any amount of credibility, we would need more information, which the article does not provide/is not focused on.

To be clear, I do not have the answers to those questions. I am merely speculating. This is one of those cases where I'd need to spend more time looking at other sources to get a broader view of the issue, including the sources the author included, the ones she used to support her claims, and the Freakonomics episode she mentions.

On that note, there's this interesting passage, which comes off as sorta... idk... I don't have the exact words for it. Undermining her own point a little? I'll analyze this feeling I have more after the image transcript. (Also, the "they" that is mentioned at the beginning of this passage is referring to the Freakonomics podcast.)

[Image transcript: They mentioned that there is one subset of men who out-enroll women. Which subset might that be?

Gay men.

While only 36 percent of US adults have bachelor’s degrees, 52% of gay men do.

"If America's gay men formed their own country, it would be the world's most highly educated by far.” - Joel Mittleman

At the Joel Mittleman quote in the podcast, I leaned forward…yes… surely now we will wonder why only straight men aren’t attending college… yes? /End transcript]

I feel like this passage gives a passing glance at intersectionality and then just hand waves it away to prove something about straight men. It just strikes me as something that should be explored more if the argument you're making is that men are leaving for misogynistic reasons. Because we should all know by now that gay men are perfectly capable of being misogynistic and that there are definitely gay men who don't want to share spaces with women. Is it that gay men overall tend to be more in touch with or comfortable with femininity, and are therefore less deterred by the presence of women in the classroom? I guess I'm honestly just confused as to how gay men factor into this conversation and why this deviance from the overall trend is not explored. It seems extremely relevant to the conversation?

Also, the article up to this point has been saying that men -- as a general category -- are choosing not to go to college. Is it true that the article is talking about straight men only, as this portion seems to imply? Are we considering gay men as somehow not men or unaffiliated with the rates that men are choosing college? Does the presence of more gay men in academia also mean that this "male flight" is also in part due to homophobia, or is homophobia not being considered as a factor the same way race doesn't seem to have been factored in?

Finally, how do trans men factor into this conversation? Were they counted as women or men? Were they considered at all? If they were, that certainly is not represented here.

So, I guess my overall impression is that this is an interesting and compelling thesis, but the specifics are missing in a way that makes the author's argument fall flat. I think this article would really benefit from a more intersectional approach. I also believe, as with all social issues like this, that the problem is never just one thing, but a combination of things, all of which need to be considered to address the underlying systemic issues that get us to this point. I absolutely believe the author is on to a big part of the problem, but I think her scope is limited and she needs a more solid foundation of information to build her argument on.

Idk. Read the article for yourself and see how it hits.

Why aren't we talking about the real reason male college enrollment is dropping? (Celeste Davis, Oct 6 2024)

"White flight is a term that describes how white people move out of neighborhoods when more people of color move in.

White flight is especially common when minority populations become the majority. That neighborhood then declines in value.

Male flight describes a similar phenomenon when large numbers of females enter a profession, group, hobby or industry—the men leave. That industry is then devalued.

Take veterinary school for example:

In 1969 almost all veterinary students were male at 89%.

By 1987, male enrollment was equal to female at 50%.

By 2009, male enrollment in veterinary schools had plummeted to 22.4%

A sociologist studying gender in veterinary schools, Dr. Anne Lincoln says that in an attempt to describe this drastic drop in male enrollment, many keep pointing to financial reasons like the debt-to-income ratio or the high cost of schooling.

But Lincoln’s research found that “men and women are equally affected by tuition and salaries.”

Her research shows that the reason fewer men are enrolling in veterinary school boils down to one factor: the number of women in the classroom.

For every 1% increase in the proportion of women in the student body, 1.7 fewer men applied.

One more woman applying was a greater deterrent than $1000 in extra tuition! (…)

Since males had dominated these professions for centuries, you would think they would leave slowly, hesitantly or maybe linger at 40%, 35%, 30%, but that’s not what happens.

Once the tipping point reaches majority female- the men flee. And boy do they flee!

It’s a slippery slope. When the number of women hits 60% the men who are there make a swift exit and other men stop joining.

Morty Schapiro, economist and former president of Northwestern University has noticed this trend when studying college enrollment numbers across universities:

“There’s a cliff you fall off once you become 60/40 female/male. It then becomes exponentially more difficult to recruit men.”

Now we’ve reached that 60% point of no return for colleges.

As we’ve seen with teachers, nurses and interior design, once an institution is majority female, the public perception of its value plummets.

Scanning through Reddit and Quora threads, many men seem to be in agreement - college is stupid and unnecessary.

A waste of time and money. You’re much better off going into the trades, a tech boot camp or becoming an entrepreneur. No need for college. (…)

When mostly men went to college? Prestigious. Aspirational. Important.

Now that mostly women go to college? Unnecessary. De-valued. A bad choice. (…)

School is now feminine. College is feminine. And rule #1 if you want to safely navigate this world as a man? Avoid the feminine.

But we don’t seem to want to talk about that."