#but i’m concerned her rule following will somehow fuck it over for me

[teabookgremlin]

I WANNA BE HAPPT IM READY TO WALK INTO MY ROOM WITHOUT LOOKING FOR YOU GO IP TO THE TOP OF MY BUILDINF AND REMEMBER MY DOG WHEN I SEE THE FULL MOON

[featherandferns]

gamble (alternative ending)

after some feedback from the original fic, I've decided to share the original ending to gamble that I had to change/cut because of Tumblr's post-size policies!

gamble - a jj maybank x fem!kook!reader 22k word fic - can be read here!

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

You startle awake, shooting up in bed like you’ve been electrocuted. It’s one of those feelings when you don’t remember where you are or when you fell asleep. As you rub at your eyes and let them focus on your surroundings, illuminated by the soft glow of your bedside lamp through the darkness, you remember. You’re in your bed, in your room. Your mom must have left you to sleep after you nodded off, finally at some semblance of peace to get some rest. The sleep you fell into was dreamless and well-needed. 

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

Blindly reaching for your vibrating phone, you squint at the bright screen and make out Kie’s contact picture and name. You swipe to answer. 

“Hello?” you mumble, half-asleep. 

“Hey! Can you hear me okay?”

“Yeah,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes again. “What time is it?”

“I don’t remember. Like ten, maybe? Eleven?”

“Hmngh.”

“Are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sleepily reply. 

“I think you need to come over,” Kiara says. Something about her tone has you awake like a shot of espresso. You push the covers down off you. 

“Is everything okay?”

She sighs and that does little to ease your worries. “Look, I know you and JJ are in a bit of a fight-thing right now - I don’t know, maybe that’s why he’s acting the way he is, at least partially but–”

“Kie? What’s going on?” you interrupt. 

“I just…” She sighs again, then finally says, “I just think JJ really needs you right now.”

“I’m on my way,” you reply, hanging up. You climb out of bed and don’t bother getting dressed past pulling on a sweatshirt. The clothes on your body are three days old; you changed once since the conversation with JJ. A pair of mac and cheese stained sweatpants and an old tank top. Ranger wakes as you make your way down the stairs and you decide to let him join. It’s disorientating as you sneak out the house into darkness, considering that you fell asleep in the daylight. The two of you load into your car and you’re leaving your house in record time. In the rearview mirror you check your hair and cuss, trying to smooth it down. Your skin is makeup free and body empty of jewellery, save from the bracelet that twins JJ’s. It makes you feel somewhat naked. As if he heard the whole conversation, Ranger whines from the passenger seat. You murmur reassurances and pet his head as you drive down the deserted roads. The Chateau beams into sight from your headlights. But there’s something else. Some other light, bright and illuminating, from the yard that wasn’t there before. You park your car and climb out, Ranger quick to follow, and walk into the yard. Your eyes widen as they land on a hot tub. 

“What…the…fuck?”

“Oh, thank God,” Kiara exhales in relief, appearing in the doorway of the porch. She rushes down to you and wraps you in a hug, and you’re happy to return it. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to get involved in whatever it is going on with you and JJ, and I never really know if we’re friends or just circumstance friends but–”

“Kie! It’s fine, it’s fine,” you interrupt with a small laugh, a tad concerned. You pull apart, hands on her shoulders, to meet her gaze. Your smile melts with unease, eyes heavy with worry. “What’s going on? Is JJ okay?”

She sighs and shakes her head. She takes a step away from you and rubs at her head. “He got in a fight with his dad. Some stuff went down after you two had your…talk. I don’t know…It might just be better to ask him.”

You purse your lips and nod slowly, contemplatively. 

“He’s inside,” Kiara tells you. With that, you make your way up the porch stops. At the front door, you falter and stop. Would he even want to see you? Was this somehow breaking the rules of your ‘non-break’; not giving him the space he needs to think and function away from you? You recount the past three days of your side of the non-break. How you’ve spent them hiding in your bed, crying at the oddest moments, feeling the lack of JJ’s company like you lost a limb. Ranger rubs at your leg, whining, and you decide to trust your gut. If he wants you to leave, all he has to do is say, but you’re certain Kiara wouldn’t call for just any old thing. 

The spare bedroom door is shut. Ranger whines and whines and scratches at the door. Your hands wrap around the handle and you take a steady breath in. The rickety handle creaks as you slowly push it open, the hinges protesting loudly. One of your hands leans down to grab at Ranger’s collar to keep him by your heel. On the bed is JJ, slumped as he sits, his back to the door. 

“Kie, I told you to jus’ leave me alone, a’right? I’m fine,” he mumbles. His voice is thick like he’s been crying. You swallow. 

“It’s not Kiara,” you quietly confess. JJ whips around. His lips part and eyes gape and he stares at you as you stand awkwardly in the doorway. You probably look just as much of a mess; days-old clothing, unruly hair, make-up free and irritated skin. Funnily enough, a diet of purely Reese’s Pieces is not the best for keeping spots and blemishes at bay. 

“What are you doing here?” he says in a tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Kiara called me,” you reply, shrugging as you add, “she’s worried about you and thought I should come over.”

“Oh, uh, right.”

His head slumps and he stares at the blanket atop of his bed. You purse your lips and feel the awkwardness and unease consume your entire body. Contemplating leaving, you glance behind you, into the silent hallway. But then Ranger somehow manages to slip from your hold. He races over to JJ like a rescue dog in the mountains, clambering onto the bed, ambushing JJ. He laughs at the onslaught of slobbery kisses, letting Ranger imitate a lap dog. His fingers scratch into the coarse fun on Ranger’s neck and he chuckles. 

“I missed you too, boy,” he murmurs. You smile at the sight. JJ glances over at you. 

“I figured you might need a puppy-pick-me-up. He missed you like crazy.” You then take a shaky breath as you go on to admit, “we both did.”

A look flashes across JJ’s face then. His smile lessens as if in thought, and he nods. “I missed you too.”

“I can leave if you want me to leave,” you tell him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“No,” JJ blurts, quick like a cat running from a loud bang. “No, don’t…don’t leave. Please.”

You nod. You’d stay forever if he asked you to. You’re not sure there’s many things JJ could ask of you that you’d protest to. Closing the door behind you, you wander over to the bed and sit sort of opposite to him, on the side nearest the door. Ranger settles half laid in JJ’s lap, appeased now that he’s in the company of perhaps his favourite person in the world. Your eyes survey JJ’s face for new injuries and am relieved to find none. The old have healed completely now too, thank God. That’s a relief at least. He’s unharmed. Or so you thought.

“Do you, uh…Do you remember when we went fishing, just last week? I don’t know, it feels like a lifetime ago now but…” you cut yourself off nervously with a laugh. JJ nods vaguely. “D’you remember what I said to you?”

“That you’re an armed woman, now?” JJ wonders, quirking a brow, that cute, playful smile trying to break out. 

You laugh quietly, shortly, and dip your head for a moment. “Not just that though. D’you remember that I told you that you can always tell me anything, and that I’m always gonna be on your side?” 

JJ nods again. 

“It’s kinda ironic cause I think that’s when you started putting up these walls,” you say. Another small breath in and then you continue, “and I don’t blame you for it, JJ. In fact, I think I understand it.”

His brows tug together, unclear, and you’re not sure you’ve ever known him to be this quiet before. 

“I can’t relate to you, JJ. I have my own struggles with trivial kind of stuff but I don’t know real struggle. Not like you do. So, I don’t blame you. I mean, why would you let a rich, stook-up Kook into that?”

“I ain’t mean it like–”

“--No, no, I’m not mad. I’m not saying that to be all ‘woe is me’ or whatever. I mean it. Like…I get it,” you interrupt, fighting to hold his eyesight. “It just hurts, y’know? Cause the thing is, I love you. I love you no matter what. No matter the ‘bad decisions’ and the stupid choices, like the Midsummer’s fiasco or whatever. But I can’t love you, JJ, if I don’t know you. If I don’t know these things about you. I don’t like being left on the outside. It makes me feel like I don’t matter to you, and I don’t know if I can take that feeling, y’know?”

JJ licks his lips nervously and clears his throat. He nods, glances around the room, uncomfortable by your candidness. JJ doesn't come from a place where conversations like these were encouraged or common and so, as if to reassure, your hand finds his on the blanket. You softly envelope it with your warmth. He stares at that small gesture for a long while. 

“I just don’t want you to think less of me,” JJ confesses quietly. “I’m a scumbag, a’right? I make dumbass choices and get myself into dumbass situations and I’m not good for you.”

“Yes, you are, JJ. You’re a good person.”

“No, I ain’t,” he quickly dismisses, meeting your gaze once more. And he means that. It hurts you so bad because he means it. “I ain’t a good person.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re a good person to me, okay? I don’t care about all that other noise–”

“--Well, you should, alright?” JJ snaps, losing his tether. His hand slips from your comfort to flail out into the air in a wild gesture. “I mean, Jesus! I just fuckin’ robbed a drug dealer and blew the money on a hottub, for Christ’s sake - and you’re sitting here telling me I’m a good person?”

You look down with that. JJ catches his anger and sighs, shakes his head, disappointed. “I’m sorry, I just…This is what I mean. I can’t let you get that close to me.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You don’t love me, JJ, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.”

“No, hey - what? I never said I don’t love you.”

“You never tell me that you do,” you whisper, eyes stinging with tears yet again. You look at him and offer him a shaky smile. “I don’t want to force someone to be with me, JJ.”

“I don’t want you to tie yourself to me,” JJ out-right states. As if surprised by his own truthfulness, he’s spurred on. “I don’t want you to say you’re okay with these things now and then look around in three months time or whatever, and realise just what a fuck-up you’re with.”

“I’m never gonna think that,” you tell him. “I’m never gonna think you’re a fuck-up.”

JJ looks unsure of whether to believe you or not. Your hand finds his again, the other landing on his thigh. “I mean it, JJ. I’m in love with you. I don’t care what batshit, crazy stuff you get yourself involved in, as long as I’m in it too. I’m in, okay? All of it. I’m in. You just gotta stop shutting me out, yeah?"

JJ shakes his head slowly. But he’s easing up, coaxing open like a conker from its spiky shell. His tone is joking, lighter like buttercream, as he says, “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling sweetly. “But I’m your baby.” 

He smiles at that. 

“So, will you tell me? All of it? Please,” you request.

And he does.

It’s hard at first, like he’s forcing the words out syllable by syllable, but then it gets easier. The stories. The reasons. The motives. It starts with the hurricane - hurricane Agatha - and then with the white boat that they found. That’s where he got that gun - the same gun that you used to save him from Rafe and Topper - and you distantly recall his story. Then bits and pieces continue to crop up surrounding the Royal Merchant: the compass, the package…Then comes the grocery run and the jump on Pope, and the revenge. How Pope sank the boat, not JJ. That’s when the scruff up happened at the outdoor theatre, with you wielding the gun and saving their asses. Soon after came the arrest, originally intended for Pope but JJ gladly taking the fall. The pictures in the interrogation room of those men, bludgeoned and killed with a fishing spear before being left for shark bait. How JJ was terrified of that happening to John B but, more importantly, of it happening to you. First Rafe's ever-looming threat over your head and now this, and JJ felt like it was all because of him.

So he started to shut you out of it. Wanted to keep you at arms length. You couldn't get wrapped up in the Royal Merchant madness if you knew nothing about it.

"Cause I have to keep you safe," JJ mumbles, gazing into your eyes. "You're the most important thing in the world t'me, y'know? If something happened to you...and it was because of me..."

His voice trails off as if he can't bare the thought. Your heart swells. You squeeze his hand reassuringly and it prompts him to go on. JJ returns to the story. To how his dad beat him when he came to pick him up, and that’s why he was black-and-blue when he came to your house for dinner with your parents. God, if only you knew. After, with Midsummers, with John B dating Sarah Cameron (hence the secret note) and the meet-up at Rixon’s surrounding the Royal Merchant and the gold. How you weren’t invited because above everything else, JJ had to keep you safe. Then, they found it. They actually found the gold, under the Crain house, and they were going to be rich. Stinking, fucking, stupid rich. That brought them to today.

“So we melt the gold down,” JJ recounts, petting Ranger’s sleeping head. “And go to this pawn shop, a’right, way up town in like dodge-ville. I’m the one who’s gotta pawn this hunk of crap ‘cause I’m the best at bullshitting, so I go in and spin this whole yarn about my dementia-crazed mom or some shit. The pawn broker sends us out to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, and we get jumped by this random guy with a gun. He held it to our heads and made us give up the gold, but John B got the upper hand, right? You following? And I lost my shit, okay? Like things just felt…With you and the whole ‘break that isn’t a break’ thing, and the gun…I lost me shit, and I wanted to get even. An eye for an eye and all that crap - I mean, you know, you’ve read the bible. So we go to his shitty ass trailer and I steal the twenty-K that I owe for that boat Pope sank. But the others weren’t, uh…they weren’t super cool with that, so I went off alone, a’right? Cause I don’t need anybody but me, yeah? And I go to my dad and give him the money to settle up with the cops. But…But he don’t wanna do that. So this whole…thing starts and…”

JJ loses his momentum. His lower lip starts to tremble and this infuriates him. Huffing, he presses his hand over his mouth. You frown, worried, brows so closely knit they might as well be one. A shuddering breath that’s so deeply unfamiliar to hear in JJ lets slip. A tear trickles tellingly down his cheek. 

“Oh, JJ,” you murmur. 

“I nearly fuckin’ killed him,” JJ gasps. More tears fall. He stares you down as he repeats, “I nearly fuckin’ killed him and I-- I just couldn’t take it anymore, y'know? I couldn’t take it–”

You throw your arms around his shoulders and pull his shivering body into you. JJ rests his head on your shoulder, burying his face in your collarbone, and he sobs. Your own eyes well at the feeling of his pain leaking onto you, and you press your nose against the collar of his shirt, breathing in the only smell that can bring you calm. Your own personal brand of nicotine. His arms raise to cradle your back, holding you close just as you do him, and you let him cry. With every tear, it’s as though another brick has been pulled free from the walls he’s been building in the past two short weeks.  

Even when the headfirst sadness has passed, you hold him. It’s safe here, in this corner of the world, once again lapped in moonbeams and darkness. 

“I do love you,” JJ says against your skin. His breath is warm as it fans across the flesh. “It’s jus’...my family, we didn’t do the whole talking thing. I’m not used to really tellin’ anybody anything, let alone how I feel. It’s easy enough saying it to my friends but with you, like that…It scares the crap outta me.”

“Why?” you breathe, pulling back to be able to meet his gaze. Your head shakes as you gently say, “why is it so hard when I say it to you all the time? You know I’m never gonna turn you away or shoot you down for saying it.”

“I don't’ know,” JJ admits. “I don’t know, I guess I just have this thing that tells me I shouldn’t ever tell anybody.”

“In case you ever want to take it back?” you wonder. 

JJ swallows thickly like taking medicine. He shakes his head. His eyes look so sad you could weep. 

“No. In case you ever want me to.”

Lips parting, something clicks in your head. You think about the past two weeks. How your parents welcomed JJ into their house with open arms, whereas JJ is lucky if he can stay in his for a week without a blow-up. How you lean into your mom for comfort, whereas JJ can only find that in the bottom of a bottle. You’d only ever been met with love and grace and forgiveness. JJ? He knew betrayal and abandonment and disdain. You said you understood before, the first time he told you that he loved you, way back after the fight at the outdoor movie, but you didn’t. Not until now. 

“I drove past your house everyday, y’know?” JJ mumbles. “I wanted to call you so bad but I know you wanted this space and that I'd already fucked it up with the whole Ashley thing. I don't know...I guess I just didn't wanna push you. But I wanted to come over, so bad.”

A laugh bubbles up your throat and you can’t swallow it back. Shaking your head, you admit, “I thought about you everyday.”

JJ smiles, then starts to laugh under breath. “Wow. We’re really good at this, huh?”

“You should’ve come over,” you tell him, a teasing smile on your lips. “That’s what the guys do in the movies.”

He scoffs, shaking his head, grinning. “Now that just ain’t fair!”

The two of you sit in your laughter. It’s heavy like it holds stones in the pockets, but with each giggle you feel yourself becoming lighter. When the humour dies down, the two of you are left with sated smiles, gazing at one another. But JJ’s smile begins to fade. That same look of sorrow comes over his face. 

“I don’t wanna lose you,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I shut you out. I just...I just never wanna lose you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not gonna lose me, JJ.” 

“You promise?”

“On Ranger’s life,” you say with a flicker of humour. He smiles, small, and nods. His hair is still damp and sits sticky on his forehead. 

“I should’ve told you about Ashley. I thought I was maybe saving you, or somethin’, by not but…You deserve to know. You’re entitled to know,” he affirms. “I’ll tell you anything you want. I swear.”

“I don’t need to know about the others, JJ,” you reply, meaning every word. Your hand squeezes his tightly. “I trust you.”

Both of your gazes drift down to your interlocked hands. On yours and JJ's wrists sit your handmade bracelets; the beads of your initials press against one another as if embracing. 

“Fuck,” JJ breathes out in a dying laugh. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Your head darts up. The words hang themselves in your head like bunting. A girlish, giddy smile breaks out on your lips. JJ begins to mirror it. 

“You do?” you giggle. 

His head bumps against yours. The smell of chlorine and prosecco comes and goes like the tide. Your lips want to chase his but something keeps you at bay, waiting for him. You found him first: now it was his turn to find you. 

“I can’t promise that I’m not gonna keep fuckin’ things up. But you came into my life and fuckin' turned my world of grey into colour. And I don't...I don't know if I can see those kinda things without you."

And somehow, someway, that's deeper than 'I love you'.

"Promise to let me in, now?"

Despite your closed eyes, you can see JJ's smile clear as day.

"I promise. You're officially a Pogue."

JJ’s lips find yours like a migrating bird returning home, and you feel as though you can finally breathe right for the first time in three days. Your fingers slip into his hair, combing through the strands, and JJ’s palms and fingers caress across your figure, as if tracing your body back into his mind. 

And as the two of you kiss, you realise that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was JJ. Wonderfully, recklessly-imperfect, Pogue through-and-through JJ. 

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A Brewing Storm

In All The World, Chapter 1.2

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: This series of one-shots follows Matt and the music teacher he is steadily falling for, despite her distant familial connection to The Punisher.

warnings: angsty Matthew, Matt and Frank being little shits (mostly Frank), fluff, hints at smut

w/c: 2.3k

a/n: I KNOW THIS DIDN’T WIN THE POLL BUT I WASN’T ABLE TO FINISH THE OTHER FICLET, I’M SORRY! I hope this is a decent consolation prize for you all. The comfort piece should be done by next week! 

There are a few things mentioned in this chapter that I won’t go into unless people are interested but here’s the rundown: Matt and Reader started their relationship after her testimony, though the trial had not yet ended. The ABA code of ethics doesn’t really have much to say about attorneys and witnesses, but the general rule is after they’ve testified (as long as the trial isn’t discussed) they can begin a personal relationship. The ethics rules are much more concerned about lawyers and their clients than witnesses. However, Matt asked her out during proceedings so, in his head, he did something wrong. I wasn’t planning on writing their beginning, but if that’s something you all are interested in, let me know!

Trusting the men to keep their word, you left Frank standing over the door mat while you grabbed some bath towels and a jacket he'd forgotten on your couch months ago. Returning to a room frigid with their disdain for each other, you stifled an eye roll while you passed over the items in your hold. “Here. Dry off if you can. Are you hungry? I can set another place for dinner.”

Matt stiffened from his seat at the table, blowing an annoyed breath out of his nose. Smirking in satisfaction, Frank rubbed the towel over his hair, splattering your floor with leftover rain. “Sure, kid.”

Pretending not to see your boyfriend's twisted frown, you padded over to the stove to scoop the remaining noodles into a clean bowl.

“Ok, it's not much, but I wasn't planning on cooking for three–”

“How long?” Came Frank's curt question.

Running the tip of your tongue against your molars, you blew out a breath, shoving Frank's food over to him.

“Um...”

“Eight months.” Matt answered, chest puffing out ever so slightly. Swatting at him with a glare, you grimaced as Frank gnashed his teeth again.

“For fuck's sake. During the trial?”

“Well, that is how we met.” Matt snapped back, posture rounding as the Devil slipped back into control.

“And you thought what, Red? That you could treat my case like your own personal dating pool? You of all people know how dangerous that was for her.”

“I think we are all familiar with the risks taken last summer.” You retorted, taking your seat at Matt's side, letting your knee brush against his in what you hoped was a grounding touch.

What Frank was insinuating wasn't far fetched. You had run into trouble after coming forward as a character witness, but your relationship with Matt hadn't caused that, your role in the trial had. No matter how much guilt he carried over the incident, your boyfriend was in no way responsible for the actions of the Kitchen Irish. Matt regularly got stuck in his head, castigating himself for giving in to temptation. Despite making it ostentatiously clear that you were interested in him from the moment you met, your self-conscious partner was convinced he’d somehow violated an unwritten code of ethics and manipulated you into going out with him. It had taken months of promises before Matt began to believe that your consent had been honest and voluntary the whole time–his fragile acceptance would surely combust if Frank continued to cast more doubt over the dubious start of your relationship. He didn’t need anyone’s help to make him feel like a monster.

Matt nudged your knee with his in response to your touch, though his expression was stony. You could see his walls going up brick by brick, his confidence waning as someone confirmed his worst fears.

“Are 'we'? Cause I, for one, ain’t dyin’ for you to be bleedin’ out in my bathroom again.” Frank hissed, eyes still locked on Matt as he referenced your previous injuries. “You think she's safe with you? You can’t protect her. Fuck's sake, Red–you're covered in blood at her table right now. She doesn't need to be dragged into your bullshit–”

“Enough.” You snarled, cutting Frank off. Inhaling deeply, you lowered your voice and softened your tone. “Matt, can you give us a minute, love?”

Ignoring Frank's sneer at the pet name, you placed a hand over Matt's knee, rubbing circles into it with your thumb. “Can you wait for me in my room? I'll be right in.”

“I can just go home,” Matt shifted uncomfortably, looking defeated and agonized as he slowly clambered to his feet.

“I’ll only be a minute, love. Don't leave yet please.” You squeezed his hand where it hung limp by his side, hoping that his barely noticeable nod was conveying his true intentions.

You set your jaw, watching Matt stalk into the bedroom before whirling towards Frank who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking all too pleased with himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Frank?”

“There ain’t nothin’—”

“Nope, it's not your turn yet.” You bit out, cutting him off. “I'm not unhappy to see you, because it means you're still breathing, but you have some damn nerve coming into my house and speaking to my boyfriend as if I'm not in the room. I am not an object, nor am I anyone’s property. You do not get to dictate what is or isn't good for me, regardless of how you feel about it.“

Frank winced slightly, but he didn’t make any other indication that your words were getting through his thick skull.

Sitting back in your seat, you clasped your hands in your lap. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Frank. Lord knows you've saved my life more times than I can count, but Matt is good for me. Your views on our start and on him as a person won't change that.“

Frank scoffed, rolling his eyes to the popcorn ceiling. You grit your teeth. “Alright, if you want to be pissed, that's your prerogative. I'm sorry you didn't find out about us directly from me, but I refuse to accept full responsibility for that because you haven't responded to me for months. You don't get to just pop back into my life when it's most convenient for you.”

The towering man didn’t respond. Fine. If he wasn't in a headspace to hear what you had to say, then you were done talking. Stretching over to a nearby cabinet you pulled out a tupperware and tossed it to him. He caught it without glancing up.

“Have a good night, Frank. Text me if you ever decide you want to listen. And take that food home with you or I will be obligated to hunt you down.”

Using the seat of your chair to leverage your weight, you stood up and paced away from Frank, crossing your fingers that Matt was still in the bedroom when you reached it.

Matt’s hearing was powerful enough to register conversations a block away, let alone one room over, so ignoring the voices beyond your bedroom walls should’ve been difficult. However, Frank’s implications had worn him down, rehashing a mess of anxiety and spurning his feelings of unworthiness. If you hadn’t asked him to stay, he would’ve gone back out to find a distraction lurking in the city streets before passing out on any surface in his apartment. Instead, he lay in your bed, coiled in a ball beneath the sheets, drained of energy–feeling small and useless.

Frank apparently didn’t have much more to say because it was only minutes before he heard you approaching the closed door obscuring him. Your footfalls were light, as always. You did whatever you could to make his existence easier. It was one of the many reasons he loved you. 

Your heartbeat grew stronger as you entered, leaving the door open only briefly in an effort to preserve the hideout Matt had taken shelter in. Gently crouching until you were seated on the mattress, you curled your body around Matt’s–shielding him from the abundance of sensory input and surrounding him with the subtle scent of your body wash. It was warm and sweet, comforting like the brief whiff of sugar you smell when walking past a bakery. A stark contrast to the harsh remnants of gunpowder and leather drifting in from Frank’s now abandoned seat. 

“How much of that did you hear?” You asked, tracing over his prickly cheek with a finger. 

“Bits and pieces.” Matt exhaled roughly. “Did you want me not to listen?”

“Sweetheart, I would never ask that of you. That’s not really something you can control when we’re twenty feet away.” Turning his head into your touch, Matt placed a gentle kiss on the pad of your finger. You took a moment to study him, heart clenching at the weary expression on his face. His posture was tight, you could tell he was holding back. “C’mere, lovely.” 

At your prompting, Matt’s blank face twitched, his sorrow peeking through as he shifted on the mattress.

“I’m sorry I let him in.” You murmured, threading your fingers into Matt’s hair as he wriggled until his face was squished into your stomach. “I should’ve forced him to calm down, or take it out on me. It wasn’t fair to subject you to that.” 

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.” Matt chuckled breathily, the sound coming out choked with emotion. 

“I know, handsome. But that doesn’t mean you deserve to be screamed at over a misunderstanding.” Sliding down until Matt was resting against your chest, you tucked his head under your chin, wrapping him in an embrace. He hummed against you, not trusting himself to speak on the matter.

“Matty, you do know that what he said was complete and utter horseshit, right?” Your blunt question made him snort, the noise muffled against your collarbone. “No, I’m serious. He was mad that we caught him off guard, so he said that crap to get under your skin. Classic Frank tactic. He did the same shit when we were kids.”

“Did he really?” Came Matt's amused question.

“Oh yah. He’s damn good at it too. The day I knocked him off the Dig Dug leaderboard at our local arcade, he told me I was adopted. My parents were FURIOUS to hear he’d let that cat out of the bag.” You laughed, your nose crinkling as you pictured Frank hanging his head on your family’s tattered leather couch as he got chewed out by your dad.

Matt made a mournful noise, pressing impossibly closer. Rubbing his shoulders with a flat hand, you kissed his crown. “But, the next week, he took me back to the arcade so I could show him how I did it. And when the dude running the candy counter made a sexist comment about how I shouldn’t even be there, Frank forced him to apologize.” 

“What’d he do? Shoot him?” Matt asked dryly. 

“Just a stern talking to. With his fists.” You joked, pinching Matt’s waist. His lips tickled your skin as he smiled. 

“Moral of the story is: Frank speaks without thinking sometimes, just like the rest of us. And he tends to be protective of the people he cares about, myself included.” Sliding your hand beneath Matt’s shirt, you cradled his waist tenderly, drawing delicate patterns with your thumb. “You have that in common.” 

“A talent for lashing out?” Matt quipped. 

Ignoring his attempt to deflect, you continued. “You want to protect me.”

“Apparently, I’m not as good at it as I thought.” Matt remarked icily. 

“Yes. You are.” You poked him, tone stern. “You protect me and the rest of Hell’s Kitchen every day, regardless of what Frank thinks. You are an amazing man and a wonderful partner, and I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything, love.” 

“I love you.” Matt whispered reverently, feeling his insecurities beginning to subside. You always had that effect on him. Your melodic voice and persistently kind nature acting as a life preserver when his own mind seemed determined to drown him. 

“And I love you, Matty. All of you. Always.” Cupping his chin with one hand, you drew him towards your face, pecking his lips lightly. “Why don’t I help you change out of your suit so we can shower? If I’m tired, I know you’ve gotta be wiped out.”

Smirking, Matt cocked his head at you—his confidence finally reappearing after the disaster of a night you’d had. “Are you trying to get me naked, sweetheart?”

“Desperately.” You muttered, trailing a finger over the waistband of his pants. “I have not seen nearly enough of you today.”

“It must be so difficult for you,” He lamented, flopping flat on the mattress with a sigh. “Not seeing your partner.”

Snorting out a laugh, you shoved his chest playfully. “Both of us know that is not what I meant.”

He chuckled, fingers of his left hand loosening the knot of rope around his other wrist.

“Let me,” You suggested, cradling Matt’s dominant hand with both of your own, rotating it and unwinding the cord with a gentle tug. As the dirt and blood stained material fell from Matt's arm, it revealed a crisscross pattern of reddened indents in his skin—angry from being bound by the woven line for so long. Tutting in sympathy, you bent forward, kissing the marks gently before releasing your hold.

Without speaking, you tangled your fingers around his other arm, inching one finger beneath the rope, repeating the motions until he was free of them. Trailing another line of kisses down his arm towards his palm, you smiled triumphantly.

With two fingers, you pried the hem of his shirt away from his sweaty abdomen. ”May I?”

Matt nodded, a lopsided smile hanging on his lips as he arched his back off the mattress to allow you to remove his top. Rolling the fabric up and over his head, you dragged your nails up his spine, grinning at the soft whine you got in response.

“Feel good, Matty?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound dissipated into a moan when you licked a stripe over his pulse point.

“How about I mark you up this time, hm? Take care of you first for once?”

Matt rumbled beneath your lips with a small moan, his head falling back as he arched off the mattress. 

Giggling, you dragged your teeth over the pulsing vein in his neck, provoking a soft mewl in the back of Matt’s throat. “C’mon, sweet boy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Leaping from the bed, Matt flew after you, snatching you by the waist and locking your lips together as you clumsily stumbled toward the bathroom. 

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @abucketofweird @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou

[whorefordean]

Hi if it's not to much trouble could you do unrequited love prompt 2 with JJ Mayback

just having fun || j.m

wc: 1.1k

warnings: jj gaslights, mentions of jj’s abuse, cursing

prompt: “it’s tiring. loving you while you love her.”

a/n: thank you for the request!! i did change the prompt a bit (“it’s tiring watching you fall in love with…”) um im not sure how i feel about this one but i do know that it took everything in me not to turn it into a rafe fic where reader somehow ends up with him… anyways i hope you enjoy.

you watched as jj doubled over laughing with kiara. the familiar ache that lived in your chest had been extremely active recently. jj and kiara had gotten a lot closer when you guys got stranded on the island. poguelandia, it had been deemed. it was meant to be your escape. your freedom. in reality, it had just been a hard fucking time.

there were some enjoyable moments. like when jj actually acted like he was your boyfriend instead of drooling over kiara. lately, it seemed like he’d forgotten that you were the one he claimed to be in love with.

you stood up from the log you had been sitting on and decided to go talk to sarah and cleo for advice. you approached the girls with a small smile and slowly sat down beside them.

“i need advice,” you blurted out. the girl’s looked at each other in confusion.

“we are on an island with no rules, no parents, and no worries. what’s got you so bothered?” sarah asked with concern. you sighed, shoulders slumped. you gave them the rundown, explaining how jj had been acting recently.

“i wanna say it’s because we’re stuck here, but it’s been like this for a while. i feel like i’ve been fighting for his attention our entire relationship,” you spoke truthfully. it was something you had just now come to terms with. his relationship with kie. they had always been close, and it didn’t bother you before. kie had always respected your relationship with jj, never pushing any boundaries that would make you uncomfortable.

“have you mentioned this to jj?” cleo asked, leaning back on her hands.

“once, a few weeks after we started getting serious. i asked if he had any feelings for kiara. he laughed and just shrugged it off. said i was looking too far into something that wasn’t there,” you shrugged, now realizing just how bad it sounded.

“can i be brutally honest?” sarah asked. you nodded, indicating for her to continue.

“i think you should just break up with him now. you need to make sure that you don’t get hurt any worse than you already have. if you stay with him, you’ll just get more attached and it’s gonna hurt worse later,” sarah voiced her opinions. cleo nodded along in agreement.

“honestly, it sounds like the love was never even there, and i hate to be so brutal about it. but if he cared, he would’ve listened the first time you told him you were uncomfortable,” cleo added, earning a hum of approval from sarah.

you sighed, feeling a little bit of relief that you weren’t crazy. you didn’t tell them that you were planning to break up with jj beforehand, not wanting to be talked out of it. But it was reassuring, you guess, hearing your feelings on such an unfortunate situation get validated.

you thanked the girls for listening and the advice, then excused yourself. you slowly made your way over to jj and kiara, who were still deep in conversation. you cleared your throat. kiara noticed you first, smiling brightly up at you in greeting. you returned the smile, genuinely, before gesturing towards jj.

“hey, can i steal you for a few minutes, jj,” it came out as a statement, leaving little room for jj to decline, though, he always had the option to walk away. he nodded and stood from his spot with kie before following into step behind you. he watched you curiously as you led him away from your friends to a more private area. the two of you walked in silence for a few minutes before you finally stopped and turned to face jj.

“i’m breaking up with you,” you spoke evenly, allowing no emotion to filter into your words. you stood with your shoulders squared and your head held high. he laughed. he fucking laughed. not just a small chuckle, either. full blown cackling.

you stared at him in disbelief as anger surged through your body.

“wow, okay. fuck you, jj,” you scoffed as you turned to walk away. jj composed himself, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“wait. are you serious?,” jj spoke, resting his hand on your arm.

“yeah, jj. it’s tiring watching you fall in love with kie, and i just-” you started to explain, shrugging his hand off of you.

“no, that’s not - you seriously thought we were dating?” jj asked, genuinely curious.

you stared at him in disbelief. your eyebrows furrowed, and your jaw dropped open just slightly. you exhaled sharply and crossed your arms over your chest. you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to calm down.

“my mistake, jj. i thought it was safe to assume that when you told me you were in love with me that you were actually in love with me. trust me, i won’t make that mistake again,” you spewed angrily. you were embarrassed. you turned on your heel and walked away from your ex whatever. jj quickly rushed to catch up with you, not completely done with this conversation.

“how was i supposed to know that you thought we were exclusive?” jj asked while throwing his arms up. you stopped dead in your tracks, causing him to run into you.

“jj, what the fuck would you call this?” you questioned, gesturing between the two of you. your blood was boiling with rage, and you were about to explode.

“i thought we were just having fun with each other!” jj shouted back in annoyance.

“why would i introduce you as my boyfriend to my fucking parents if we were just having fun, jj,” you asked rhetorically. jj said nothing as he rolled his eyes at you and crossed him arms defensively over his chest.

“you’re a fucking joke, jj. jesus fucking christ. honestly, i shouldn’t be surprised. i forgot that the only role models you had growing up just taught you how to treat other people like shit,” you barked angrily. that was too far, you know, but you’re too far gone to give a damn. you’ll face the guilt later, but it feels good right now.

“what the fuck, y/n!” jj yelled at you in disgust. he had trusted not only you but the other pogues with the knowledge of how his father treated him, and you had trust betrayed him.

“feels like shit, huh? betrayal stings like a bitch,” you spat. you turned around and rushed away from him, lifting your hand in a silent fuck you to the man standing behind you.

you were so desperate to get off this island that you were half tempted to start swimming back to kildare. even if you didn’t last very long in the ocean, you were sure that sharks would’ve been better company than jj maybank.

[modelbus]

ok ok WE NEED A CUT CHAOS PART 4 BDBDVZVZ

it’s not milking it if it’s what the people ask for…. This one is a bit different! It’s headcannons style of the other cc’s finding out what happened and such :D

Part 1

Pairing(s): cc!Ranboo, cc!Tubbo, cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy x Fem!Reader (Platonic) Head Cannons of: Cc!Phil, Cc!Dream, Cc!Niki, and The Public (fans)

Cut Chaos Part 4

Phil

“You what?!”

Is overly concerned, ends up having a long lecture over communication and talking things out.

Even after multiple reassurances that everything is fine now, he’s very disappointed in Wilbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy.

Ends up talking to Kristen about it later, he feels bad that he didn’t realize what was going on while it was happening.

He’s constantly on the lookout that things aren’t actually okay for weeks after that, then relaxes once he realizes you were being serious about it being okay now.

”That’s never happening again, to anyone.”

”It’s nobody’s fault. Just remember to follow basic internet rules and not trust everything we see. We’re literally content creators for fucks sake!”

Is more likely to be lenient on Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy but is just all Dad Mode Disappointed.

Dream

You’re the one to tell him, maybe with an offhand remark about hating rumors due to what happened. He pauses and goes, “wait, what?”

Wide-eyed the entire time you explain, this man cannot believe his ears.

”They did that? Really?”

Absolutely pissed on your behalf. Skips worrying and goes straight to muttering curses with a glare.

Deadass just doesn’t believe you when you say it’s okay now.

”Are you sure? Because that’s fucked. That’s really fucked. Good for you on resolving it, but… things don’t sound fine. That doesn’t just go away, right?”

Pushes you to talk to someone about it. A therapist, an animal, someone.

”I just can’t believe…”

He’s 100% blaming Wilbur, Ranboo, Tubbo, and Tommy. All of them. And the internet, for even spreading the rumor.

Posts a vague tweet in his private about disliking rumors being spread about content creators and how harmful it is.

Likes vague tweets then unlikes them.... mr. drama over here...

Niki

When Dream told you to talk to someone about it, you go to Niki.

She gets it, having experienced firsthand how horribly internet rumors can affect your life.

Out of everyone, she blames the internet the most for it.

Although she is still very disappointed in Wilbur, Tubbo, Tommy, and Ranboo.

”I would’ve expected better from them. I’m sure they didn’t even think about how it’d hurt you. And that’s so frustrating, right?”

Comforting <3

Playing cozy games together

”I’m an open door.”

Somehow it ends with you planning a trip to go hang out with her, although you’re not quite sure how

Also end up planning a stream??

The Public

After a while, after everyone is more comfortable and doesn’t feel absolutely shitty over what happened, it’s a little bit funny.

So there’s little quips in vlogs, streams, and videos that allude to what happened.

”I’m a ghost!” “Just don’t ghost me.”

”They’re talking about rumors, I swear—“ “Rumors, huh?” “…no.”

”Why am I back in videos now? ….don’t worry about it.”

It doesn’t take long for Twitter to realize what happened. The most popular theory is the correct one, leaving mixed opinions.

Most people are advocating to let things be, no matter what happened.

Some people, the mean ones, are saying they should’ve left you out for good.

A lot of your fans are upset at them, but take the cue from you and don’t cause a huge fuss.

Either way, it ends up trending for a little bit on Twitter. It’s slightly ironic to you.

Nobody addresses it to confirm/deny what went on, although when prompted through a donation Tommy says he "fucking loves" you in "a platonic way, chat. PLA-TON-IC!"

And when the Tik Tok fans find out…

incredibly dramatic

”Chaos squad is over guys D:"

Angsty edits

[cx-boxbox]

Big Things Are Coming, Scorpio

(Lando/Oscar, T, ~4.2k)

For someone who doesn't believe in magic, Oscar sure does hang out in Lando's shop a lot. It's almost like he's not there for the crystals or the potions at all, but of course, Lando doesn't know that.

Lando's a witch, Oscar isn't, and there is a love potion involved... or is there?

I would be a terrible person if I didn't write a wlw version, so I put it under the cut for whoever might be interested.

“Big things are coming, Scorpio.” Lando scoffs to herself as she almost violently refreshes Co-Star. “Oh, that’s bullshit, that is. ‘Big things’ could mean literally anything!”

Someone behind her clears their throat, startling her. With a high-pitched scream that she will deny letting out for the rest of her life, Lando flails as her chair, which was already precariously balanced on two legs, tips backward and dumps her onto the floor in a vaguely witch-shaped pile. Her phone somehow bounces off of her face, which just adds damage to her pride.

“Lando?” A familiar face appears over the counter to stare at her. “You alright?”

“Oscar!”

Scrambling to her feet and brushing herself off, Lando puts on her most winsome smile, bats her lashes, and holds back a wistful sigh. Oscar looks as nice as ever, especially with that adorably concerned expression on her face. Concern for Lando. Ugh, she’s swooning.

“I’m fine, but more importantly, what brings you back here?”

Oscar fixes her with a blank look. “Clearly, I have to make sure you haven’t managed to kill yourself every once in a while.”

How romantic.

Lando leans forward on her elbows. “I mean, for a non-believer, you’re here pretty frequently. Or have you finally changed your mind? My love potions are the best in the country for a reason.”

Technically, love potions are considered dark magic—they’re in the same category as curses and things like that because they can potentially take away one’s autonomy—and having those available for purchase technically categorizes the metaphysical supply shop as illegal. But Lando never claimed to be the strictest follower of rules anyway.

As for her being a witch, she would keep it a secret from other supernaturals and humans alike, but she’s terrible at keeping secrets, and Oscar’s just the sweetest girl. Not to mention, she’s also very much convinced that Lando is just keeping up a farce because magic surely cannot exist when there’s science—humans and their silly beliefs—and that she might be a little crazy in the head.

Lando is perfectly capable of being crazy and a witch at the same time, thank you very much.

“Ehh,” Oscar says with a shrug, in lieu of a proper response. She picks up a crystal and examines it. “What’s this one allegedly for?”

“Green aventurine is for luck,” Lando recites. This is stuff she learned a decade ago, before she left the nest to find herself and settle in. Her mother made sure that she and her siblings knew the basics of witchcraft like the back of their hands.

“Luck… I could use some of that,” Oscar mumbles to herself. She shakes her head, and the swoopy ends of her wolf cut bounce with the motion.

Lando tilts her head curiously. “Why? Project gone wrong?”

“Something like that. Nobody’s listening to my ideas, and everyone keeps brushing me off. Just because I’m the newest member of the team and a woman doesn’t mean I’m fucking dumb!” Oscar throws her arms into the air for extra emphasis before sheepishly lowering them back down to her sides. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to blow up in front of you.”

Oh, Lando doesn’t mind at all. She was actually busy eyeing the stretch of Oscar’s sleeves around her biceps, and she coughs once to hide the fact that her eyes enjoy straying a bit too much. “Don’t apologize, Osc. Y’know, when I was a fledgling witch, everyone doubted my abilities too, but then I brewed the most discreetly potent uglifying potion known to my kind and slipped it in one of the coven elders’ tea. He had warts in places I don’t even want to think about, and he couldn’t sit properly for days.”

“Hm. Too bad I can’t just give my boss warts.”

“Hah, you definitely can. That brown bottle on the shelf behind you contains just enough for one dose. Just make sure you don't get caught.” Lando looks Oscar up and down. “Yeah, nah, you wouldn’t stand out at all, aside from, y’know, being a woman and looking extremely queer. Can’t guarantee you’ll be respected any more, but at least your boss would suffer.”

“Thanks,” Oscar replies dryly. She looks skeptical at best, but she places the bottle on the counter next to the aventurine. “I’ll take one of these then. And maybe this crystal too. For luck, apparently.”

Lando claps her hands in excitement because what a development this is! Oscar has never bothered with purchasing anything from her shop before! “Perfect! Let me wrap these up for you, and you can just put as much as you think your goods are worth in the till for me.”

“That can’t be a good way to run a business,” Oscar remarks as she digs through the pockets of her unforgivable drawstring jeans—but hey, they come with pockets, at least—and comes up with a twenty-pound note. “You don’t take card?”

“Oh, I do. I just knew you had cash in your pocket, so.”

“Huh.”

“Sometimes, I send the customer along their way without asking for money in return, and when they come back because they always come back, I ask for payment based on how satisfied they are,” Lando adds. She drops the neatly wrapped parcel with the giant purple bow directly into Oscar’s waiting hands and maybe lets their fingers brush. Just for a moment. “It’s not like sourcing objects and ingredients is that expensive, anyway. Well, unicorn horns and dragon scales are near impossible to find these days, but I don’t use those as often. It’s unethical too.”

Oscar blinks at her in disbelief. She does that a lot. “Um, okay, whatever you say, Lando. I’ll be back next week either way, whether you’re scamming me or not.”

“You just say the sweetest things, Oscar!” Lando chirps, and the blush that colors Oscar’s cheeks is payment enough for a lifetime’s worth of sage bundles and love potions.

As soon as Oscar walks out the door, Lando folds herself into her chair, letting it tip backwards to rest on two legs instead of four once again. Perhaps Co-Star will give her a better reading now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Your life is about to change, Scorpio.” The app crashes on Lando, who is incredibly tempted to chuck her phone across her shop. “Frickin- update? I just updated it yesterday! Useless piece of shit-”

“I hope you’re not talking about your supplies. Or me, for that matter.”

Lando glances up, pleasantly surprised to see the object of her interest peering at her. Ooh, she's in her leather jacket today too. Delicious. A bisexual witch’s wet dream. “‘Hi, Lando. How ya goin’, mate?’” she mocks in a terrible Australian accent.

“I don’t say that.” Oscar rolls her eyes for good measure. “But hi, Lando.”

“And the loveliest of hellos to you, Oscar. How’s your boss?”

She shrugs. “No idea. He didn’t come in at all this week. Kept nagging us through the online portal, though.”

Lando hums thoughtfully. The poor lad was probably too horrified by the results of the uglifying potion to even show his face. “And did the crystal work?”

“No idea,” Oscar repeats before her face suddenly brightens. For a woman of so few words sometimes, her facial expressions so easily betray her emotions. “I did get another assignment, though. They want me to lead the next project because they ended up testing something I suggested last week, and to everyone’s surprise, it actually worked.”

It’s rare that Oscar says so much at once, but she continues detailing this new thing she’s working on, which Lando can very confidently say she knows nothing about. Engineer-y, science-y things that have nothing to do with alchemy tend to fly right over her head.

“I’m probably boring you,” Oscar says, gauging the blank look in Lando’s eyes. There’s a twist to her mouth when she gestures to the incense burning on the counter and points out, “I guess our interests don’t exactly align.”

“You’re not boring me!” Lando quickly exclaims. She widens her eyes convincingly and looks up at Oscar from beneath her eyelashes. That move always works on men and women alike. “I just have no idea what you’re talking about, but, um, I like listening to you talk…?” Her voice trails off into a meek little thing at the end. “And how boring would it actually be if we were interested in the same exact things? I wouldn’t get to tell you all about the uses of all these different crystals and impress you with my bountiful knowledge of witchcraft, and you wouldn’t get to impress me with all your fancy friction and force things.”

“That’s basic physics, Lando.”

“Which I never had to study!” she protests. “I’m also very easy to impress.”

Oscar looks at her so fondly, it hurts. “I’ll still try my hardest.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Lando mumbles, sniffing haughtily to mask the way her heart flutters at Oscar's words. She checks her phone, notices that it’s still updating Co-Star, and promptly throws it over her shoulder and definitely doesn’t wince when she hears it crash into something. Oscar, on the other hand, jumps and stares with her brown eyes wide.

“Did today's horoscope reading piss you off or something?”

“It keeps telling me the vaguest bullshit!” she whines. “How am I supposed to let it guide me on a day-to-day basis when it won’t tell me anything useful?”

“I mean, you can always just… not?”

Lando gasps, affronted. “No, no, mate, I’m not taking advice from someone who doesn’t believe in horoscopes.”

“Do what you will, then,” Oscar says with a sigh. “I’m just saying that my life is perfectly fine without an app dictating my every action.”

“And mine isn’t,” Lando retorts. She’s trying to get the love of her life to maybe look at her in a way that isn’t only friendly, for fuck's sake, and she hasn’t the slightest idea how to begin, so naturally, she looks to the stars for guidance. “But enough of that. Aside from letting me know that the potion and crystal worked-”

“I didn’t tell you that.”

“-and wanting to see more of my beautiful face-”

“You are really pretty, yes.”

“-what are you here for?” After a beat, Lando makes a flustered noise and flaps her hands at Oscar, who looks quietly amused at her antics. “You can’t just say things like that, Osc! I’m fragile.”

“The truth, you mean? Fine, I’ll lie next time.”

Lando blinks. Next time!

A blush is slowly settling into Oscar’s cheeks at Lando’s continued silence, and she reaches up to run a hand through her shaggy hair and scratch the back of her neck. “Um, you mentioned love potions last week? Hypothetically, if you’re not making things up, how do they work, exactly?”

Lando blinks again. “Love potions? The hell do you need those for?”

“Irrelevant,” Oscar immediately answers. And then, “I’m just curious.”

Refusing to think too much into it, Lando clasps her hands together and begins, “Well, I won’t tell you the specifics on how to brew a love potion because I don’t want to risk a non-witch attempting it and fucking it up. A fucked up love potion bears serious consequences, and my shop is already ‘illegal’ enough without others getting seriously harmed in the process.” She tips forward in her chair and uncrosses her legs for good measure. “You spike exactly four drops into the drink or food of whoever you want in love with you. Hm, oh, have you studied basic chemistry?”

“Of course I have. But what’s that got to do with love potions?” Oscar asks, and she looks properly curious now.

“Turns out we do have something in common! Except I was tutored by an alchemist… anyway. Administering a love potion is like doing a tie... what is it?"

"A titration?"

Lando clicks her fingers and points at Oscar, who blinks at her, bemused. "Yes! A titration- 's not exactly the same, but the accuracy needed is still there. Any less than four drops results in infatuation, more than four results in obsession. If that person is already in love with you, four drops won’t exactly do anything, can’t make someone fall in love with you if they already are, but more or less than that will still put a problem in your hands. Love potions are virtually undetectable, which makes them so dangerous, and how potent they’re made determines how long they last.”

Oscar exhales. “Whew.”

“Mhm. I keep the things that could get me in trouble off the shelves, so if you ever need a love potion, you should let me know beforehand, and I’ll brew a fresh one just for you.”

“I don’t have your number, though. Or do witches communicate by smoke signals?” Oscar asks, sarcasm bleeding into her voice.

“No, silly. Smoke signals are for wizards.” Lando produces a pen from the pocket of her apron and neatly scrawls a series of digits across a sheet of purple stationery. “You've been coming by for over a year, and you've never asked me for my number? I don't know if I should be offended or not... and wait, you’ve literally seen me use my phone!”

Ah. Speaking of her phone. She grimaces and slides off her chair to look for her phone, cursing out loud when she sees that the screen is cracked and that there’s a dent in the corner. It’s nothing a little repair spell can’t fix, but it did also leave a sizable hole in the display case behind her, and now there are glass shards on her amulets.

Oscar nods at the phone. “Right. Good luck with that. I’ll see you next week?”

“Count on it, Osc.”

Lando hates to see her leave, but watching her go is always a pleasure, especially when she drives her motorcycle here instead of walking from wherever she works, presumably. As Oscar swings a leg over the bike to mount it and revs the engine, Lando twirls a tendril of her hair around a finger and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth while she carefully observes through the window. It’s terribly attractive.

Motorized vehicles have nothing on her fastest broom—why remain grounded when she can fly instead—but she isn’t terribly picky about what she rides… not like that, oh my God.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Things will get worse before they get better, Scorpio.” At least it’s something substantial this time, but Lando doesn’t feel very comforted about her predictions today. She pockets her phone and shuffles over to the shelves near the back, humming to herself as she lights a stick of incense and sneezing when the smoke gets in her nose.

Everything gets dusted and put in its proper place. Little jars of oils are gently set out on the shelves, and bundles of sage and other herbs are stacked in neat piles. It’s not the most glamorous part about owning this shop, but it's peaceful, and Lando likes these small tasks as much as she does making potions and performing rituals.

“Lando?”

“I’m back here!” she calls out, smiling when she spots that familiar head of fluffy brown hair weaving between the displays. “How can I help you today, Osc?”

“Hey.” Oscar glances around. “It’s a lot bigger than I thought back here.”

“Ooh, that’s what she said. But yeah, you’ve only ever been in the front of the shop, and I don’t blame you because that’s usually where I am,” Lando responds with a cheeky little wink.

“Uh huh. Um, this is me letting you know that I’d like a love potion, by the way. And before you ask, I didn’t try texting the number you gave me because knowing you, you probably wrote the wrong one by accident. I didn't want to call someone that isn't you and risk sounding insane by asking for a love potion.”

“...”

“No offense!”

Lando brushes Oscar aside along with her slightly wounded pride and swans over to her work bench in a flurry of black fabric. She rolls up the sleeves of her dress. “Take a better look around,” she sniffs, feigning hurt. “I won’t be long.”

Oscar opens her mouth, like she wants to say something else, before closing it with a snap and nodding. Hopefully she’s aware that nothing she can possibly do or say would ever make Lando truly upset with her.

Hm, that’s a lie.

She could request a love potion because she’s in love with someone who isn’t Lando and wants her affections returned. And Lando loves her too much to deny her that request, especially since Oscar rarely asks anything of her, so she begins gathering ingredients from various jars for a love potion.

“I hate being in love with a woman,” she mutters under her breath as she takes her trusted knife out. “I’d do so much for her, and she doesn’t even believe in magic… wait.”

Oscar doesn’t even believe in magic. Lando can work with that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“It’ll all be okay soon, Scorpio.” Lando stares at the words on her cracked phone screen, wondering whether she should trust today’s horoscope reading or not. Co-Star hasn’t exactly been wrong, per se, but it really needs to stop making her read between the lines. She’s dyslexic, for fuck’s sake!

The matter of Oscar’s love life still weighs heavily on her mind, along with the guilt of sending her home with a vial that doesn’t contain a dose of love potion at all. A placebo, if you will. Lando did brew an actual love potion just in case she couldn’t follow through with her own stupid plan—tricking Oscar was far more difficult than anything she has ever faced—but she still ended up handing her a bottled up shot of vodka instead. It’s clear enough and odorless enough to resemble a love potion. She hates that she had the completed potion in her cauldron and everything, the most potent one she’s ever brewed, yet she selfishly couldn’t bring herself to give up the love of her life just like that.

Her actions may make Oscar hate her if she ever finds out, but she’s willing to take her chances.

The bell tinkling merrily fishes her out of her misery, and she wearily lifts her head off of the counter to greet whoever just came in with the fakest cheery voice she can muster.

Much to her dismay, Oscar is the one who peers back at her with a worried look on her face. It’s a really nice face. Too bad Lando isn’t the one who gets to stare at it for the rest of her life.

“Are you okay?”

No. “Yeah, everything’s mint.”

“That’s debatable because you don’t look okay.”

Really. What gave that away? Lando lets her head thunk back onto the counter, and a few stray curls that escaped her bun fall into her eyes. She blows at them. “Didn’t sleep at all last night. Was thinking about too many things… and I hate thinking!”

Oscar makes a sympathetic noise. “Anything I can do to take a couple of those things off your mind?”

“You can tell me what’s in that bag.”

As if suddenly remembering that she’s holding something, Oscar sets a small paper bag on the counter. She nudges it encouragingly towards Lando, who probably looks like a deer caught in headlights at the moment.

“My family’s visiting from Melbourne,” she explains. “My grandma likes baking, and she couldn't make the flight, so she made my parents bring me some stuff too. They’re rum balls—non-alcoholic ones, despite what the name suggests.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I know you don’t have as much of a sweet tooth as I do, but they’re good, I promise, and-”

To save Oscar from embarrassing herself any further, Lando bites into one and chews, all under far too much scrutiny. She swallows. “Jesus, you don’t have to stare at me like that. Makes me too nervous to eat.”

“Sorry,” Oscar says, glancing away. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Maybe.” It was a sweet gesture. Lando frowns at the remaining half of the brown sweet in her hand, examining it. “Are you sure it’s non-alcoholic?”

“Yeah, why?”

“It… burned like alcohol does. Oscar, I told you that witches are sensitive to alcohol. And seafood. Did you-” Clocking the lack of a distinct alcoholic taste, she puts two and two together, and her eyes widen at what might be going on. If her assumptions are right, she should be more offended than she currently is—she would be if anyone aside from Oscar attempted to feed her a potion—but all she feels is elation and a tiny spark of hope. “Osc, I need you to be super honest with me, and I’ll be super honest too.”

Oscar looks a bit nervous now, but she nods reluctantly. “Sure.”

“Did you, by any chance, spike this with the ‘love potion’ I gave you last time?” Lando asks, trying to keep her voice neutral. Unfortunately, she has never been as good at doing that as Oscar, so a bit of excitement bleeds into it.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Shh. It’s fine. Seriously. Better than fine, actually, if it was intended for me. I suppose I should apologize too.”

“Huh?”

Lando paces back and forth and bites her nails, but as soon as she drops her hands, a torrent of words come flooding out of her mouth. “I didn’t really give you a love potion. And even if it was a real potion inside that bottle, the witch that brews the potion would be the first to notice its presence, so I would've known immediately if you were trying to give me my own brews. Forgot to tell you that bit. Sorry. In fact, all this is what’s been on my mind recently. Just me being a selfish idiot. But, ugh, I couldn’t think about anything other than you being in love with someone who isn’t me because they won’t love you like I love you- wait, you are in love with me, right?”

Finally, Oscar’s expression settles back into one of calm exasperation. Familiar ground. “Yes, Lando. I’m so in love with you that I asked you for a love potion that I didn’t think would actually work to use on you because I was that desperate. And it looks like we’ll never find out because it wasn’t a love potion to begin with.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that none of this is a farce?” Lando cries, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you that I'm a frickin' witch if that’s what it takes- mmph! ”

She’s rudely interrupted by a pair of hands yanking her forward by the front of her apron and a pair of lips pressed firmly to hers. Oh.

Before Lando can even react, Oscar pulls away, red-cheeked and breathing deeply. “Erm.”

Helpless to do anything else, Lando makes a noise in the back of her throat because she loves this dumb, smart woman enough to drag her into another kiss. It’s better this time, their lips slotting together perfectly. After a moment of hesitation, Oscar puts her hands on Lando’s waist to pull her closer, and Lando, made clumsy by the warm mouth on hers, helplessly stumbles and falls into her chest. They nearly knock over a shelf full of candles.

“Please be my girlfriend,” she gasps in between kisses. "Oh God, please."

Oscar smiles against her lips and runs a gentle hand up her back, playing with the hairs at the nape of her neck. “I honestly thought you were never going to ask.” Another kiss. “I thought I was being obvious about how I feel about you, but turns out you’re just oblivious.”

“Hey!” Lando protests, stepping backwards. She still ends up very much trapped in the circle of Oscar’s arms. No complaints there. “Okay, fine, maybe I am, but Co-Star didn’t prepare me for you potentially loving me back. Though when I think about it, it didn’t prepare me for much at all…”

A faint shattering sound by Oscar’s feet makes them both look down, nearly bumping their heads together in the process. Green shards litter the carpet, remnants of a crystal that has been drained of its beneficial properties.

“Was that your aventurine?”

Oscar feels around in her pocket and raises an eyebrow when she comes up empty. “Huh, I suppose it was. Must’ve used up all its luck." She smiles and kisses Lando's cheek. "Eh, it’s not like I need any more of that when I already have everything I could possibly want.”

And, oh, that is by far the most romantic thing that Lando has ever heard, and she covers her face to hide how giddy Oscar's words make her feel. She peeks between her fingers and tilts her head questioningly when Oscar peels one of her hands away from her face and places a ten-pound note in her palm. “What’s this for?”

“Consider me a satisfied customer. I don’t suppose I’ll need to pay for the ‘love potion’ too?” Oscar asks, sounding a little smug.

“I already told you that it’s just vodka, and you can have your money back. Take whatever you need as long as you keep kissing me as payment. For the rest of our lives, preferably.”

“Lando, that’s really a terrible way to run a business.”

“Funny, that- oh, wait, I still need to check my daily horoscope!” Lando scrambles for her phone and opens Co-Star, shoving her new girlfriend’s face away to give it her undivided attention. Oscar makes a disgruntled noise.

“Lan-”

“You finally managed to find love and get yourself a girlfriend, Scorpio. Fucking congratulations.”

[readyplayerhobi]

Ambrosia | Teaser

; Archangel!Jimin x Guild Hunter!Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

; Word Count: 1.5k (end count: ??)

; Synopsis: A contract with the Archangel of Europe is something you never thought you’d end up doing, nor is something you wanted. With a deadly vampire on the loose and a cold, unfeeling archangel watching your every movement, you’re not sure whether you’ll make it to the end of the contract alive. But who will be the one to end you, the deadly hands of the vampire or the ntensity of the archangel?

; A/N: So this is based on the Guild Hunter series by Nalini Singh, which I really love! This is a teaser for what I’ve started writing...I have no idea when I’ll finish it but I really want to try and write a one shot finally! It’s been so long, so I hope you’ll all enjoy it. Please let me know what you think of this teaser!

-

“No way, I’m not going there. No. Fucking. Way.” You spit, each word accompanied by a hand gesture just to get across your words. Farida simply stares, her expression unimpressed but there’s nothing new there. This woman deals with people much more dangerous than you daily, and she knows that you’re all bark and no bite.

“Told you she’d react like this.” That came from Kalani, his smug smile making you want to punch him. He was too pretty to punch though, even though he’d broken his nose at least three times in his thirty-eight years. It somehow just made him look even hotter. You’d seen pictures of him when he was only a teenager and you just knew that he’d broken hearts left, right and centre back in his native Hawai’i.

The bastard was ageing like fine wine, looking hotter the more broken his face ended up, which was just annoying. A long scar bisecting his neck, paler than his tan skin, spoke of a long-ago accident, something he’d never talked about. You respected his privacy and didn’t push on it; for some people, the physical scars healed but the mental wounds remained open.

“Fuck you.” You spit at him, knowing it’s a weak retort. He can tell that you don’t mean it, given the way he leans back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Either way, he’s not the target of your frustration.

Looking back at Farida, you scowl at the head of London Guild. She’d given up being an active Guild Hunter years ago, instead opting for the top job which meant she was stuck behind a desk most of the day. That didn’t mean she wasn’t busy she was probably the busiest person you’d ever met. Farida Riaz was responsible for every Guild Hunter in Europe, which meant having to wrangle hundreds of the feistiest and moodiest people on the planet into following the rules and not aggravating people.

She also had to personally deal with the vampires and the angels, arranging contracts between the angels and the Guild alongside bringing any concerns to the attention of the angels. If you had no interest in dealing with your fellow hunters, you didn’t want to deal with the angels or their underlings.

In your world, the only time you wanted to see an angel was when you saw them flying the skies. They were beautiful, and sometimes you were envious of their wings and freedom, but they were also arrogant and cruel. Since the dawn of humanity, there had always been angels. Hell, there were probably some angels out there that had been around since the start of humanity.

They were long-lived, with most already having lived for centuries whilst some of the oldest were thousands upon thousands of years old. They’d witnessed history rise and fall and had always been there to guide or push humanity in whatever direction they wished. And why shouldn’t they? They were immortal, after all, and they were so much stronger than humans. On top of that, they had powers that humans couldn’t even dream of, each unique to the angel.

The vampires were one step beneath the angels, the bridge between angels and humans. Every vampire had once been a human before being Made by an angel. In recent times, angels entered into Contracts with humans who petitioned to be Made, the successful vampire being locked into a certain number of years of service to their master. Most vampires you’d ever met had been made in the last few centuries voluntarily, but the older the vampire then the more likely it was they had been Made against their will, something that wasn’t supposed to happen anymore.

And just like angels, the older the vampire then the more powerful they became. It also meant the older ones were more civilised than their younger brethren, more able to control their urges and wants. But it didn’t matter, because every vampire was the responsibility of the angel who’d made them whilst they were under the Contract. Despite how little angels cared about humanity, they couldn’t stand the humiliation that came when a vampire under their control broke their Contract or killed humans.

It was bad for their image and their business.

Which is where you, and your fellow Guild Hunters, came in. When a vampire got ideas above their station and tried to break their Contract before it was up, their angel would engage with the service of the Guild. A contract would be raised and agreed upon, and a Guild Hunter would hunt down the offending vampire and bring them back to their master. Once they’d been brought back, well…they were punished. Often in gruesome and horrific ways, but that was no concern of yours.

You did your job, completed your contracts and then got paid. If the idiots who’d spent all that time petitioning to be Made and then going through the whole process tried to one-up their angelic overlord, then they deserved whatever they got. Especially true if they had killed.

But that wasn’t why you didn’t want this contract in particular. 

Farida had told you that you’d been specifically requested for this contract, that the angel who’d contacted the Guild had given your name in particular. You weren’t surprised, you were a good hunter, but it made your stomach roil when you saw the name.

The hierarchy of the world went humans with vampires on top and angels above them. But above them, all were the archangels. The Cadre of Nine ruled over the planet, splitting up the land and the people within them into their territories. If angels were obscenely strong and long-lived, then archangels made a mockery of their strength.

Hatshepsut had ruled over the continent of Africa since the Pyramids of Giza had been built, her rule an iron fist that had lasted millennia. She was achingly old and bruisingly powerful, able to manipulate the weather to her liking amongst many other abilities that made your hair raise. The next oldest archangel was Tjandamurra, who ruled over modern Australia, New Zealand and many of the Pacific nations.

The youngest archangel ruled over Europe, only taking over two centuries ago but he had lived for at least a thousand years before that. You didn’t know how the hierarchy of archangels worked, all you knew was that there had been a century of warfare on the European continent which had culminated in the death of the previous archangel, Marcus Antonius, and the rise of the current.

They didn’t get involved in the business of humans, leaving any communication to the vampires or lower angels. Hell, you rarely even saw them, even on TV. And yet, you were staring at a contract on Farida’s desk that had been signed, the shimmering gold ink looking still wet even though you knew it had likely been signed hours, or even days, ago.

Jimin, the Archangel of Europe, had hired you for a contract and requested you by name. The knowledge that he even knew your name made your stomach roil with nerves, unhappy to even be acknowledged by such an achingly ancient entity. Not only had he signed a contract, but he wanted you to meet him. Today, in two hours.

“I can’t.” You say, voice weaker than you’d intended and it made you want to punch something.

“You don’t have a choice, it’s been agreed and done. I’m sorry…you know I couldn’t turn him down, not him.” Farida says softly, reaching out to grasp your hand to try and impress how she’d been backed into a corner. It made you scowl down at the contract, noting Farida’s signature next to his in plain black ink.

Gritting your teeth, you grabbed the ballpoint pen from her pen pot and scribbled your name next to theirs. It was an insult, even if it was petty, that you’d used something as plain as ballpoint ink compared to Farida’s elegant fountain ink and Jimin’s…whatever the fuck that was. But it was as close to a rebellion as you could get.

“If I die, this is on you.” Petulant words that covered over your fear. Farida didn’t say anything, and neither did Kalani from his quiet spot behind you. Both of them were serious now, no room for laughter or anything. Archangels were serious business, and if you offended Jimin then you could be killed in an instant and no one would even complain. Who would they complain to?

Sighing, you dropped your head and squared your shoulders.

“Alright, fuck it. He better not complain about me looking like shit. He hired a hunter, not a supermodel.” Clenching your fingers into a tight fist, you used the pain from your fingernails digging into your skin to help centre your mind. Closing your eyes, you exhaled deeply and did a mental count of where all your weapons were on your body. If he did kill you, you’d at least try to get a hit in. It was the least you could do.

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[ssplague]

Chapter Two

A rough start we get off too

Series Masterlist

Katsuki B. X Reader

Rated M

⚠️Warnings: SMUT, improper use/depiction of certain kinks, abusive, manipulative, toxic behavior, unreal ideals of sex, use of daddy, ddlg themes, hard Dom, etc.

Let the SMUT commence

The way each pair of lips fit so perfectly together was absolutely enthralling: Passion was raw, ferocity was made so obviously evident from the growl he emitted at each attempt you made at sucking his tounge into your mouth. Only separating to take in a few large gulps of much needed oxygen, before diving back in to repeat the process over again.

“Please….P-Pleaseee…Kat..Suki…I-“ he presses a finger to your lips. That brief period of oxygen deprivation seemed to of induced a delirium of sorts. Assessing your thoughts has become similar to sifting through wet sand; Try as you might, you just can’t seem to comprehend what exactly you’d been attempting to beg him for in the first place. This look of empty headed confusion is also something Bakugou commits to memory, a first glimpse of his dumb little girl. He surveys you with bemused interest, looking as composed as ever.

“Down that bad for me hah? All I did was kiss ya a little and you’re already falling to pieces on me” the finger on your lips slides down to tilt your chin up, while he dips his head down to whisper in your ear. “Cant even imagine what kinda mess you’ll become once I finally split cha open with this big cock, such a stupid little girl”.

You suck in a deep shuddering breath as your legs suddenly give out beneath you, leaving you helplessly sliding down the wall. Bakugou laughs in such a condescending baritone as he effortlessly picks you up and deposits you on his bed. Picking his chair back up, he moves it beside the bed to take a seat in front of you.

“Listen real close to what I’m about to tell ya cause its important, open those fuckin’ ears princess cause if I end up havin’ to constantly keep repeatin’ myself…” he leaves the implicated threat hanging in the air between you two. Swallowing what remains of your now virtually non existent pride: You sit up straight and lean forward slightly, making sure to hold eye contact while he spoke. As the one sided conversation progresses and you inevitably begin to feel the need to either scoff or mouth off, you lightly bite your tounge. When the need to roll your eyes seems irresistible you make sure to blink a few times.

Bakugou and his ego always seem to have a way of destroying any sort of illusion that he is anything other than a self-righteous narcissist. Well, now he’s YOUR self-righteous narcissist…CORRECTION; You cant think like that anymore….from now on he’s….daddy.

The thought accompanies a brief pang in your metaphorical gut, is it regret? Maybe guilt? You aren’t sure.

“-Last ones, your still paying attention right princess?”.

Hearing his question has your eyes immediately snapping back into focus. You take in the handsome (but grumpy) face in front of you, nervously wondering when exactly he’d invaded your personal space.

“Y-Yes daddy, I’m listening to you” you stutter slightly, now noticing he’s actually kneeling on the mattress with you.

“So every day I expect you to do your absolute best” now with each statement he leans further into you, “You’re always going to remember how much daddy cares about you”. He presses a large hand against your chest, forcing your back down against the pillows behind you. “Realize that daddy always knows what’s best for you” both hands now rest on either side of you, effectively caging you in.

“You’ll always know that you can rely on daddy, and will trust him one hundred percent of the time”.

The intensity of his crimson stare has your face burning up, and heart rapidly pounding in your chest. It’s now taking a serious amount of conscious effort to keep your eyes locked with his. “Any questions? Comments?…..concerns?” he puts an emphasis on that last word, wolffish grin firmly in place.

Shaking your head apparently wasn’t a good enough answer because its followed with a stern; “Use your words princess, you either say: Yes daddy or No daddy….understood?”.

“I understand daddy….I’ll follow your rules daddy” you reply, embarrassment evident at having to repeat the unfamiliar word.

“You sure? It’s not like you to have absolutely nothing to say” he’s testing you, you’ll play into it this time.

“Well if you insist…..I do have a question, just one” at this his eyes instantly narrow and you could have sworn you’d seen a few stray sparks emit from his palms.

“Would it be too much to ask daddy if he wouldn’t mind kissing me again?”

🌆

Euphie checks her phone for the eigth time since she’d last texted you over forty-five minutes ago. Why weren’t you responding? Maybe she really had pushed you too far this time….A large hand comes to rest over her much smaller one, at this she finally sets her phone facedown on the table with a sigh.

“She wont stay angry with you forever, her and Bakubro might be having such a good time together that she’s forgotten all about her phone” Kirishima tries his best to reassure with his usual smile. The sudden wide eyed, dead pan stare he gets in return whipes that smile from his now reddening face. He’s realized far too late at what his words seem to of implied.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Really! I promise I didn’t! M’sorry”. Seeing the red head this flustered is so adorable, his companion cant help but giggle.

“I know Eji, dont worry about it”.

Entrusting your care to Bakugou was fine: He cares about you almost as much as she herself does. If she wasn’t certain how genuine the boy’s feelings toward you were, none of this would ever have happened.

Yeah, everything is going to be just fine….You’ll thank her one day.

💥

Bakugou’s crimson gaze is way too intense while roaming over the female laying down on his bed. Having her completely bare, and spread out before him is an accomplishment he shamelessly contragulates himself for. She’s getting self conscious now: Delicate hands come up to cover her chest, and plush thighs press together in an attempt to hide the drooling mess kept between them. It’s all or naught though as her legs are suddenly wrenched apart, and each wrist is now pinned above her head, held in just a single one of his hands.

“Nu-uh princess, no hiding….keep those legs open…wanna see all of you” condescending words only seem to widen his feral grin.

Seeing his cock now freed from its previously strained confinements as its looms above you, standing tall, has your leaky little hole twitching. The smooth inner walls inside repeatedly clenching in anticipation. Bakugou trails a finger from clit to slit as he hums in approval.

“What’s this hah? Such a fuckin’ mess your makin’ down here”

“S-Sorry daddy…I cant help it…Just want you so bad…dont wanna wait any longer…Please dont make me wait more” a soft roll of your hips accompanies your pleading whines. Your continuous begging for his cock has that monster stirring in him again, he has to forcibly push the dark thoughts away before addressing you again.

“If I dont prep you then-“ you interrupt him.

“It’s fine! I can take it, please just take me…” he notices your moment of hesitation before you lock eyes with him while adding “make it hurt”.

You’re just so fucking bold!

Trying to make demands, disguised as requests! Its so cute he cant help but caress your cheek before bestowing upon you the last gentle kiss you’ll get until he’s throughly DESTROYED you for anyone else.

“Dont ever fucking tell me what to do again” he growls before slamming his hips forward.

He’s buried balls deep inside you: Your initial gasp at the sudden intrusion, now morphs into a silent scream that has a you arching up off the mattress.

“Got that you greedy little slut? See what happens?” He taunts through gritted teeth.

Your cunt squeezing and spasming around his cock feels incredible, to the point he has to busy himself with sucking harshly on your neck to keep from releasing desperate whimpers of his own.

“I can take it…please move….m’sorry daddy…please don’ be mad a’me….”

“M’not mad at you baby….s’okay” He manages to reassure you through his clenched jaw. He finally starts to move inside of you, desperately trying so hard to take it easy on you. All precedent falls apart when your legs wrap around his waist, now he’s digging you out.

“Y’okay?” He rasps while continuously ravaging your tight cunt.

“M-mm-more than okay” you stutter.

“Taking my cock so well baby girl….Fucking hell!” His lewd compliment causing your insides to involuntarily clench.

“Deeper! Deeper!” You plead.

Katsuki thought you’d preferred his shallow thrusts, but if you really wanted your guts rearranged he’d be pleased to make it happen. He grabs one of your legs, placing it up on his broad shoulder, while the other remains curled around his hip. Straightening up he smirks down at you, before delivering a harsh slap to your clit. Now beginning to rapidly piston his hips while taunting you: “What did I tell you earlier hah? Answer me dammit!”.

His hot hand comes down on your inner thigh and you cry out: “N-Not supposed t-to tell y-you what to d-do!”. It shouldn’t be possible for you to be squeezing him even tighter, but somehow you do. That can mean only one thing… “Gonna cum aren’t you princess? I can feel ya choking the life outta my cock”.

A pathetic whine accompanies your vigorous head nods and he growls in response: “You.better.fucking.not” a thrust accompanying each word, “Y’dont fuckin’ listen, shouldn’t let ya cum at all with how you keep misbehavin’, better start fuckin’ beggin”.

Horrified at the thought, you fight through the fog permeating your brain and force movement out of your lolling tounge.

“P-please daddy, I’ll b-be good from now on if y-you’ll just let me c-cum! Y-you’re just making me feel so good daddy, no one’s ever made me feel this i-incredible before” your panting breaths making it too difficult to continue speaking. Even if he doesn’t believe it, your words are entirely true, this is the first time you can ever recall feeling like this during sex. A foreign sensation is making its way into your gut, your limbs are moving of their own accord, you cant think straight when you manage to speak next: “Its too much! Too big, Too deep, Too intense! I c-cant take anymore please make it stop!”.

“Stop? Oh fuck no princess, after all this lip you’ve been giving me, you think I’m gonna let you tap out like a little bitch? Think again” his thumb begins to rub harsh circles against your clit. “We’re not stopping until you cream all over my cock like a nasty girl like you is supposed to, then you’re gonna do it again when I blow my load inside this tight fucking cunt and you’ll scream my name while I fucking do it because this pussy is all mine! Got all that you fucking whore?”.

“Yes daddy” you whimper, face screwed up in tight concentration as he finally pushes you over the edge. Your eyes fly open as you blindly search for his hand, gripping it tightly in attempts to anchor yourself in reality as a sudden rush of dopamine floods your brain. White hot pleasure seemingly overwhelming every single nerve in your body, making your legs shiver as you faintly hear yourself calling out his name repeatedly. Katsuki is the only thing you know in this strange foreign place: This comforting warmth suddenly invades your tummy, continuously being pumped inside you while you moan at the newfound sensation.

A pair of strong arms wind themselves around you, pulling you closer, making you feel safe, at ease, loved?

“Come…back…..come back to me” he’s calling for you. Your soul had to of vacated your body; You feel Weightless, you’re floating, “Daddy?”. Suddenly you start sinking, and without warning your body jolts, “Katsuki?!”.

“M’right here princess, daddy’s got you….Disappeared on me for a lil while” his familiar voice is grounding. His fingers card gently through your hair, and for the very first time you’re seeing a “Soft” side to this so easily angered man. Sighing contentedly you snuggle into his chest, letting his caramel scented sweat overwhelm your senses.

“I really like this”

“Hah?! That’s all you have to say?!”

Ah there he goes, moment ruined, illusion shattered.

“I’m sorry. But I’m not entirely coherent just yet…you uh…you kinda did a number on me there” you mutter sheepishly, making an attempt to escape his embrace. Its immediately thwarted, and your pulled right back against his chest. “Ah fuck…knew I shoulda just made you wait and prepped you properly….Sorry about that, guess I just got caught up in everything”. Surely hell has frozen over: Katsuki Bakugou just not only admitted a possible wrong doing, but APOLGIZED for it as well!

“Ive wanted to do this with you for so long: Fuck you, hold you, be with you, and I fucked it up! Just like I always seem to fucking do, I-“

“Daddy” your voice effectively silences his self-depreciating rant. His hand begins to gently run up and down your back as he mumbles a “Yes princess?”.

You lean back slightly, tilting your head up so those cute doe eyes can stare up into his, the smile your wearing makes his chest tighten.

“M’not hurt, sore but not damaged….I wasn’t referring to my body, I meant you did a number on my mind…Besides I asked for it remember? I’ve wanted this for a long time too, so I got impatient…Please dont berate yourself, lets just enjoy this moment as the first of many now…Kay?”.

That’s right, you’re his now; Along with the opportunity to care for and make sure to correct you…he’ll be able to do this with you again. You had given yourself to him after all, so he can have you as many times as he wants, whenever he wants! He’s far too occupied with his lewd thoughts to care about the foreboding darkness thats begun to emerge from its confines within his skull.

You don’t remember falling asleep but Katsuki gently prods you awake: “Baby…wake up, Its dinner time…I made food for us…c’mon princess you need to eat”.

You whine, attempting to burrow further beneath the blankets, “Not hungryyyy...wanna sleep more!”.

“Dont make daddy ask you again, you wont like what happens”.

Not interested in ruining such a wonderful night, you begrudgingly sit up. Noticing he’s seated at his desk, with a large steaming bowl set infront of him. You slide out of bed, standing up and realizing you’re naked, but strangely not embarrassed by it.

“Here” he tosses you a shirt, “Now c’mere, hurry up before it gets cold!”. Pulling his shirt over your head as you pad over to him and take a seat on his lap. Noticing the single spoon and bowl has you looking at him with genuine curiosity. “Since you like actin like a damn baby so much, figured I’d continue treatin’ you like one” his words make you grin sheepishly again, and you hold out your hand expectantly waiting for him to hand you the spoon….he doesn’t.

Taking an impressive spoonful of the steaming food he then proceeds to blow on it before bringing it up to your lips.

“Say ahh, brat”.

“Wha-?”

Taking advantage of the opportunity, he shoves the spoon into your open mouth. Of course it tastes amazing, but he doesn’t plan on keeping this up right? WRONG!

Repeating the pattern of giving you a bite and then taking one himself.

“I can feed myself y’know…” you mutter growing increasingly flustered at the insulting action but more so the fact that its making you feel….excited?

“I dont think you can princess….I always hear Euphie bitchin at ya for skipping breakfast or to hurry up and come eat dinner” pausing to feed himself, then repositioning the now loaded spoon back infront of you before continuing.

“That shit ends today, gonna teach ya how important it is to take care of yourself, and if you wont? Then I guess daddy will have to do it for ya”.

You’re squirming in his lap by the time you accept the last bite,swallowing thickly before making an attempt at vaulting off his lap. Large hands immediately snag you around the middle before your feet even touch the ground.

“No, No, thats not how we do things around here, where the fuck are your manners?” he slips a hand between your clenched thighs to move them apart, and then brings a slap down to the inside of each. You dont even know why he’d done that and the shock is evident on your face. “You like when I baby ya, dont lie to me LITTLE girl”.

“No I-“

“What’s this then?” he quickly interupts while holding up the palm he’d previously slapped you with. Glimmering in the low light is your sticky arousal coating his palm.

“Sorry” your voice is barely audible as you hang your head in shame.

“Mhm sure you are…Here I am being a good care taker to you and what did you do? Sat there thinking all kinds of nasty things while I spoon feed you, you really are a fuckin depraved slut aren’t you princess?”

You bite your lip as your eyes start to water,still refusing to look up and far too embarrassed to respond. A finger beneath your chin forces your head up and his breath hitches when he notices tears getting ready to fall. A malicious smile now turns his lips upward as he cups your cheek, “Look at that…shes about to start crying and all because of what? Cuz you just exposed yourself for being the depraved little slut you are?”.

“NO! No im not I-“.

“You are” his grip tightens painfully on your jaw, pulling your face forward so its now just an inch away from his own, “And I fuckin’ love it”. Then he’s surging forward pressing his lips against yours; Forcing his tongue into your mouth, hand coming around to grip the back of your head. Your lungs are on fire while his hand slips under your shirt to harshly grope at your chest. Clawing his forearms is finally enough to get his attention and he reluctantly pulls away. You’ve just barely began catching your breath when he suddenly stands up, keeping a firm grip on your ass to carry you, before dropping you onto the bed.

“Take that off and-“

*knock knock knock*

The sudden knocking followed abruptly by Kirishima’s muffled shouting, startles both you and Katsuki, and the rattling door knob has you immediately springing into action.

“Hey we brought back desert to share with you guys! So just meet us at my room whenever you feel like it, Euphie’s changing her clothes and then she’ll be there too, we’re gonna watch a movie if you two wanna join us!”.

He must have heard Bakugou’s standard non-committal grunt in response, because you hear his retreating footsteps trail off down the hall.

Grabbing your skirt out from underneath the bed, you stand back up.

Just as you’d gotten to your feet your immediately pushed face first onto the mattress. A sweaty hand takes hold of your hip in a bruising grip, while the other delivers a sharp pinch to your ass cheek. Yelping in response to the sudden harsh yank of your hair that proceeds a whisper of:

“You didn’t really think I would let you off that easy did you? Your fuckin’ cake can wait brat, we’re done when I fuckin say we are, got it?”.

✨

A/N: I hope this chapter was to everyone’s liking, I’m actually kind of nervous to post it but 🤷🏼‍♀️ Chapter 3 has a fair amount of smut in it as well so look forward to that. I’m hoping to get another one shot up for “A man of his word” this week, if you like extreme Yandere Bakugou check that out. I have one penned but it needs to be typed up.

[mochegato]

Heroic Deeds

Thanks to @boldlyanxious and @ive-fallen-down-the-rabbithole for the idea

 Marinette was going to kill her roommate.  Because that’s why she was in this situation in the first place, her roommate was too busy to pick up his own damn paperwork.  And she was just too “nice” to say no.  And puppy dog eyes should be illegal.  In fact, that was the next house rule.  No puppy dog eyes.  She has never in her life been able to say no to puppy dog eyes and mean it.  Manon, Etta, Ella, Adrien… no more!  Hence forth they were banned.  It was already a rule with the kwami.  It would just have to be instituted as a rule with humans as well.

But until then, she had to deal with this ridiculousness.  This thief that sounded like he was bored out of his mind, like she was inconveniencing him by being held hostage.  Is it too much to ask for him to be more invested in this than she is?  I mean, she may be the one with the gun pointed at her, but he’s the one that’s pointing it and he’s the one that broke into the office to steal whatever documents he was halfheartedly looking for during the day instead of at night when NOBODY WOULD BE THERE.  

But noooo, this jackass had to do it during the day and at the exact moment when she would be there. Really, what was her luck?  Was this punishment for not wearing Tikki constantly anymore?  She was only supposed to be in this office for a total of a whole ninety seconds. Walk in, grab the documents that were supposed to be ready and waiting for her, and walk out.  But instead she was stuck here critiquing this idiot’s ransacking skills, because that ninety seconds is exactly when this blasé thief decided to strike.  

At least Kate was safe, she huffed to herself.  Kate had been lucky enough to have gone to the backroom for the documents just a few seconds before Idiot Man came in.  Hopefully, she had escaped through the backdoor and had contacted the police already.  Because apparently Kate hadn’t pissed off the kwami of luck like Marinette somehow had.  She and Tikki were going to have a very long, very hissy discussion when she got back home.

And this guy wasn’t. Even.  Paying.  Attention. To.  Her.  The gun was pointed in her general direction, but it was like she was the furthest thing from his mind, like she held the same threat level as a kitten.  But that was his mistake, underestimating her, because this kitten had claws.  God, she’s been hanging out with Adrien too much.  She’s beginning to think like him.  She let out a breath and banged her head against the back of the chair she was sitting in out of frustration and disappointment in herself.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was ignoring her to focus on his search, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that either.  She would think he was high on something if there were any other signs of it.  No, this just was just bored, like he was wasting time, waiting for the police to show up.  Maybe it’s the ski mask he was wearing that was annoying him.  Who wears a ski mask in the summer?  And… did he just check his phone!  Oh, Hell no!  That was the final straw.

She moved before she could overthink it, sliding over the desk she had moved behind when he came in. She plowed into his chest with both feet, catching him completely off guard and knocking him back into the filing cabinet.  

“Hey, get off me!” he yelled, sounding more affronted than worried.  

She twisted around and kicked the gun out of his hand with one leg, following it up with a punch that would have broken his nose if he hadn’t blocked it with his forearm, redirecting her hit.  She stopped her momentum before breaking her hand on the filing cabinet.  She pulled her arm back instead striking her elbow directly into his cheek.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, holding his cheek and looking up at her like she was crazy.

He reached for his gun, but she kicked his arm and raced for it herself, kicking it under a nearby cabinet. “That was my gun!” he gritted out, rounding on her.  At least he finally looked invested in this.

“I noticed,” she smirked at him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face.  He dodged at the last second and shoved her leg, changing her momentum and sending her flying toward the edge of the table.  She squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for the impact. If she timed this right, she could use the table as a springboard to go back at him.  The table was solidly built from thick, heavy wood and metal.  It had to weigh several hundred pounds.  It would be able to take her weight without moving even a centimeter.  She took a breath to prepare, but the impact was significantly softer than she had anticipated and didn’t give her the bounce back she expected, causing her to end up sprawled on the floor instead of springing back at the thief.  

Before she had even registered what happened, she heard a grunt in front of her and the sound of the table scraping against the floor as it moved.  She looked up to a red helmet looking back at her.  Her eyes flicked down quickly to his chest as if she needed the confirmation the bright red bat there gave her.  He stood up quickly, rubbing his shoulder as he approached her. He knelt down in front of her. “You okay?”  His voice was considerably softer than she would have anticipated from the vigilante considered to be the most dangerous of the bats.

She stared at him for a few seconds, shocked by the tone and to see him there in the first place.  She had been expecting the police not a bat. It was daytime, everyone knew they didn’t come out during the day.  The bat signal didn’t work during the day.  “Miss,” he tried again, his voice taking on a concerned edge.

“Oh!  Yes.  Yeah. I’m fine.”  She nodded rapidly and reached down to rub her leg where the thief had pushed her, more to relieve anxiety than because it actually hurt.  

“You’re hurt.”  It was a comment, not a question.

“It’s okay, really,” she tried to assure him, but he was already up and stalking toward the thief who had started edging toward the door.  Marinette mentally scoffed at his stupidity.  She understood underestimating her, she was an unknown and looked tiny.  But Red Hood was a known entity.  His threat level was well established.  Why on Earth wouldn’t the thief have run as soon as he appeared?

“Hood…” he started nervously, holding up his hands as though trying to placate him.

Whatever other argument he was going to try to make died on his lips as Hood picked him up and threw him through the large, plate glass, front window.  He stood at the window for a few seconds, watching the thief run away. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to her.  “How badly are you hurt?”  He approached her slowly.  He rolled his shoulder a few times, almost imperceptibly.  If she hadn’t been familiar with trying to hide an injury, she might have missed it.

Marinette smiled at him.  “I’m not. Are you?  Did I hurt your shoulder when I slammed into you?”

“Are you sure?”  He stopped a respectable distance from her.  He seemed to eye her leg suspiciously, but backed off questioning it. “I mean emotionally too.  An incident like that can be stressful for some people.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Please, that wasn’t stressful.  That was annoying.  And you didn’t answer my question.  How is your shoulder?”

Red Hood paused for a few seconds watching her.  “It’s fine.  You weren’t afraid?”

Marinette scoffed.  “No. The most stressful part of this is I’m supposed to be picking up some important documents for my roommate and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get them now.”

“If you didn’t feel afraid of what he would do, why did you attack him?  You could have provoked him into doing something he wasn’t going to do before,” he gently chided her.

Marinette let out an annoyed sigh.  “You sound like my roommate.”

“Sounds like a wise man. Why didn't you listen?” He cocked his head to the side.

She mumbled something into her feet, not making eye contact with him.

He arched his head closer to her.  “What was that?”  She mumbled something again, slightly louder this time, but still not loud enough for him to understand what she said.  “What?”

“Because he pissed me off.  Okay?” she finally yelled in exasperation.

“What did he do to piss you off?” he asked carefully, because if the guy did anything to hurt her, he was going to hunt the asshole down and kill him.

“He was bored,” she growled.  “He was holding me at gunpoint and acting like I was the one that forced him into the situation and it pissed me off, okay.  I mean the audacity!” Red Hood fought laughing at the adorable scrunched up face she made as she talked.  She waved her arms around agitatedly as she spoke.  “You don't want to be here?  Newsflash, asshole!  Neither do I! I mean, if you’re going to threaten me, put some effort into it, you know?  Am I not worth the effort?”

“You are.” Red Hood answered instantly.  “I mean, you seem like you are… from what I can tell.”

“It’s just disrespectful,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she leaned against the table.

“Extremely,” he agreed absently, staring at her pouting lips.  “Lucky for you though.  Seems like he underestimated you.  I don’t even think you needed this knight in shining leather to rescue you.”

She huffed out a laugh.  “I already have a knight in shining leather.  Two, actually, if you count my roommate, which I do.  I don’t really need another.”

He motioned like he wanted to take his helmet off but stopped himself.  He positioned his arm on the table she was leaning on, supporting his weight as he leaned closer to her.  “But are they heroes?”  

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.  “I mean… to me,” she added quickly.  She didn’t need anyone making any kind of a connection between her and Chat.

He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before responding.  “You must be quite something to have so many knights willing to fight for you.  But, maybe you can use another, after all they’re not here right now and I am.  I can be your knight in shining Kevlar instead.”

She chuckled, looking down shyly.  When she looked back up, it was through her eyelashes.  “Yes, you are here and during the day too,” she smirked at him.  “I didn’t think you guys could come out during the day.  I thought sun repelled you.”

“You’re thinking of vampires.”

She pretended to study him carefully.  “So you’re stating for the official record that you are not, in fact, vampires then?  Just regular bats.  Interesting.” She looked away nodding as if in thought.  “I’ll have to let my friend know you’re refuting that theory.  She runs a superhero blog.  The vampire Bats theory is one of the more popular posts.”

He chuckled and she could hear the smile through his words. “We aren’t.  Well, I’m not.  Can’t vouch for Robin though.  He’s definitely some kind of cryptid.”

Her face was starting to hurt from trying to contain her smile. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Although… you could be lying.  After all, you are entirely covered right now… in the middle of the day… in the summer. That’s a lot of leather for a hot day. It kind of looks like you’re hiding from the sun.”  She shrugged her shoulders innocently.

Red Hood stared at her a few more seconds and she was cursing the helmet for an entirely different reason than she usually did.  Right now she was dying to know what kind of face he was making.  Was he smirking?  Was he frowning?  Was he blushing?  Did she make Red Hood blush!  Was he enjoying the interaction or was she annoying him?  He moved over to the window he had thrown the thief through earlier and stopped a few feet from it.  He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm and exposed it to the sun.  “Happy?”

Marinette looked at his forearm for a few seconds, struck by the muscles that were so defined even in his forearms.  The things that man could probably do with his hands… She walked closer and started to reach out to touch his forearm only to snap her hand back at the last second.  Her cheeks blazed brightly.  She cleared her throat lightly.  “For now,” she nodded as casually as she could manage, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Don’t feel shy, P… rincess,” he smirked at her. “Feel free to feel freely.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, as much to stop herself from reaching out to touch him as embarrassment. “Probably not a good idea to go around groping people you don’t know so….”

“So,” he started quietly, moving closer to her, “you’re saying you want to get to know me better and then you’ll grope me.” He quirked his head to the side as he took another step closer.  “How well do we have to know each other for that?  ‘Cuz, I’d let you do it now, so it’s all up to you.”

Marinette’s cheeks blazed a deep red.  She looked away to collect herself.  While this was fun and Red Hood’s body should be as illegal as his actions, she wasn’t looking to be another notch for him and considering the speed he was moving with someone he just met a few seconds ago, that’s all she would be.  She took a breath and looked back up at him.  “I’m saying… I should find the papers I was sent here for and get them back to my roommate.”

“Let me walk you home.  Make sure the guy doesn’t come back.  I can check the security of your place too to make sure you’re safe,” he offered in a tone that sounded sincere.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay?”  He sounded surprised at her answer.  Most women must not say yes to him, which frankly she had a really hard time believing.

“To the walk, not the apartment check,” she corrected him firmly.  “My apartment is safe.”

“Are you sure?  I can…”

“My roommate made sure it’s safe and I trust my roommate more than I trust you,” she cut him off.  “No offense.”

Red Hood was silent for a few seconds before nodding.  “Okay.”

<><><><><> 

Marinette laid down on the couch for a while after getting home replaying the events in her head. No matter how many times she ran through them, they still didn’t make any sense.  The thief didn’t make sense.  Red Hood being there during the day didn’t make sense.  And Red Hood hitting on her… didn’t not make sense, but it definitely dampened the crush she had on him.  

After a little while, her stomach reminded her she had planned to pick up something to eat after picking up the paperwork, which means she hadn’t eaten since the croissant she had at breakfast and it was now dinnertime.  She let out a groan and forced herself up off the couch.  Maybe chopping some vegetables would make her feel better anyway.

She had already started sautéing the onions when the puppy dog eyed man himself finally made it home.  “That smells great, Mari.  Were you able to get the paperwork?”

Marinette blinked at him a few times before narrowing her eyes and pointing the knife she was holding at him.  “You’re not allowed to do puppy dog eyes anymore!”

“What?  Why?  I mean… I don’t… do that,” he trailed off quietly at the glare she was sending him.

“Yes, you do,” she glowered and went back to cutting vegetables for dinner a little more forcefully than she had originally.

“So what happened that was so bad?” he asked carefully.  He moved to sit on the counter, but made sure to keep a fair distance between him and Marinette, or more specifically, her knife.

“The office got robbed!” she exclaimed loudly, waving the knife wildly.  “While I was in it!”

He jumped down off the counter and ran to her.  He grabbed her shoulders and looked her over carefully for any signs of injury.  “Mari!  Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Marinette scoffed.  “No.  I just started trying to take him down when Red Hood interrupted.”

“Red Hood, huh?”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yes, Red Hood,” she rolled her eyes.  “Shut up.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly and took the knife from her hand first.  Once he was fairly safe from getting stabbed, accidentally or on purpose, he continued.  “Did you flirt with him?”

“What?” Her cheeks flared brightly.  What the hell!  Why was he asking her that?  That was not a conversation she wanted to have.  It was hard enough to have normal conversations with him and his tight shirts and charming smile and piercing eyes, but him encouraging her to flirt with other people was really not a conversation she wanted to have.

“Well you… you like him, right?  You said he was your favorite and he was a dilf, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any kids,” he said nonchalantly as he swirled the onions in the pan.

“Yeah, because he could be my daddy,” Marinette muttered to herself, but apparently not as quietly as she thought she did, judging by the choking sounds next to her.

“What!”

“What?”  The smug smirk making its way across his face told her that her denial didn’t come across as innocently as she had hoped.  “Shut up, Jason.”

“So he made a good impression then?” He asked somewhat awkwardly, which was bizarre for him. “You might even want to see him again?”

She smacked him in the shoulder pausing when he flinched heavily.  She stared at him, studying him closely.  That was where Red Hood had been nursing earlier.  Red Hood, who has the same dimensions as Jason.  Red Hood, who had a still healing cut on his forearm in the exact same spot as the one Jason mysteriously showed up with a few days ago.  Red Hood, who knew her roommate was a he.  Red Hood, who reminded her so much of Jason, which is why she liked him so much in the first place.  Red Hood, who was definitely flirting with her as he rescued her while she was the only one… in Jason’s aunt’s office… after saving her from someone who, thinking back, had the same dimensions and eye color as Roy…

“Oh he made an impression,” she said absentmindedly, still staring at his shoulder.

“A… um, a good one?  He did save you, right?  Heroic deeds and all?  Women love a hero,” Jason added casually.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, letting the pieces settle into place.  Finally, her eyes widened in realization.  “You set it up…”

Jason’s face went blank. “I… What?”

“You set it up,” Marinette repeated with more confidence.  “You… Why?”

“What are you talking about?” Jason tried desperately.

She punched him hard in the shoulder.  “Jesus! Fuck, Pixie.  That hurt.” Jason cried out as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

“Good!  What the fuck?  Why would you do that?  Were you trying to scare me?”

“No!  I was… Because… because you liked Red Hood.  I wanted you to meet him,” he said defensively.  He looked away and took a breath.  When he looked back, his voice was quieter, shakier. “You wanted Red Hood and… and I wanted you so…”

“You know, you could have just, I don’t know, popped up on the roof when I was there or showed up when I was walking home.  You didn’t have to stage a robbery!  Think about all that damage Kate has to deal with now!”

“She was remodeling anyway. She needed to demo the entire office so… two birds, you know?”  He shrugged a little too casually to be casual and flipped the onions again.

“And one bat.” He rolled his eyes at her.  “Or you could have just… said something”

“You weren’t interested in me.  You were interested in Red Hood.”

Marinette let out a long sigh.  “I was interested in Red Hood because he reminded me of you.”

His eyes widened in realization.  “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.  And liking him seemed less emotionally damaging than destroying my relationship with you by flirting.”

“You thought I wasn’t interested?”  He looked at her incredulously.  She looked down at her feet, shuffling them awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact, almost like she was afraid of what he was going to say.  He couldn’t allow that to continue.  He turned off the stove and walked up to her slowly, careful not to scare her, just like Red Hood had earlier that day.  He gently cupped her face, softly enough that she could pull away if she wanted to.  He stroked her cheeks tenderly.  

When he finally spoke up again, his voice was loving and reverent.  “Pix, I’m head over heels.  I don’t think you even… no, I know you don’t know how much or you wouldn’t question why I tried talking to you as Red Hood instead.  I love you, Pix.  I love your heart and your humor and your sass and your passion… and your face.  I love that too.  

“And God, your smiles. I love your smile when you’re happy, which is different than your smile when you beat me at UMS, which is different than your smile when you see a little kitten, which is different than your smile when you’re thinking about home, which is different than your smile after you’ve completed a commission, which is different than your smile when I make an amazing joke that you hate.  I love them all and I just want to see any of them, all of them, every day.”

He didn’t realize how close he had gotten to Marinette’s face until he realized the gasp she let out sounded like it was right next to him.  She laid her hands over his wrists.  “Jason…”

“And I really hope I didn’t…”

“Jason!” she interrupted. He looked at her wide eyed.  She smiled reassuringly at him.  “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh God, Pixie, you can’t imagine how happy that would make me,” he smiled down at her, lowering himself so his lips were close enough for her to reach.

She grinned back up at him as she pushed herself up, her lips a few millimeters from his.  “Oh, I think I have an idea,” she whispered before closing the distance.

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

[weasleylangs]

secrets i have held in my heart - f.w

Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Everyone in the twins’ lives mix them up once in a while, except for Y/N. Fred is dying to know how.  Warnings: Some angst with a happy ending, yes I wrote oblivious Fred again with miscommunication issues, what about it, some swearing, brief mention of the war but obviously this is a FredLives!AU :D, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive it’s like one line, - everyone is 18+ by the way!  Word Count: 4k

A/N: For the anon who requested super secret mutual pining with some angst where the reader is the only person who can tell the twins apart! Thank you so much for requesting. This has also been cross-posted on AO3 (frederickweasleys) as per the anon’s request! 

Also, I didn’t want to write about a 17 and 15 year old pining after each other, so I made everyone older and it’s postwar, however I was like 2000 words into the fic when I remembered George got his mf ear blasted off in DH so…. U do not see that it’s not canon in this fic thank you

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

The sun is blaring down on The Burrow and everyone is starting to wonder the likelihood of getting heatstroke. They’re in the south-west of England and the weather doesn’t usually get above the early 20s in the middle of August, however, mother nature has decided to wreak havoc and today is almost 30°. 

Y/N is looking at the pages in her book but she’s not processing anything on the pages. She’s so appreciative of the relaxing life she and all her loved ones finally have. The war ended last year, and while Y/N isn’t family, Molly and Arthur are always insistent she’s welcomed at The Burrow for their Sunday roast dinners. 

So she sits under a tree, the muggle fantasy novel in hand as Molly is busy prepping dinner and her friends all play quidditch. Hermione’s been refereeing them despite having no actual knowledge of the rules, and right now, she’s waving Harry’s copy of ‘Quidditch Through The Ages’ at one of the twins trying to prove a point, fully aware she’s going to get nowhere with him. He’s laughing at her and he raises the hand holding the beater’s bat as he threatens to (softly) hit her with it when he looks over her shoulder and spots his favourite girl perched under the tree with his mum’s homemade lemonade. 

Before Y/N knows it, the bat’s been thrown in her direction, barely missing her and hitting the tree behind her, and when she looks up, she immediately recognises the twin as Fred. Fred and Y/N are almost two sides of the same coin and their friendship has always been considered unlikely. Fred loves mischief and pranks and he’s extremely exuberant where Y/N is a ‘stickler for the rules’ (Fred’s words, not hers) and she’d much rather spend her day reading than playing quidditch. But their friendship blossomed and eventually for Y/N her feelings evolved into more. 

But Y/N is one of Ron’s best friends, and having a crush on her best friend’s older brother is weird, even if they are 19 and 21. 

“Hi Freddie,” she says, dog-earing the page and closing her novel, accepting now that Fred’s in her presence, the book isn't getting read again until tonight, “no more quidditch?” 

The ginger gives her a shit-eating grin and completely ignores her question, “Darling, I’m George.” 

Y/N squints at him for a brief moment, second-guessing herself but the longer she looks at him the more she’s sure it’s Fred, not George in front of her. “No, you’re Fred. I’ve known you for how long? Just accept I can tell you apart.” 

Fred mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath as he sits down. He’s always loved that Y/N is the only person who can tell them apart, his own family struggling sometimes and especially when they’re apart. But no matter what, she somehow gets it right every single time and he’s dying to know how.

“You’re never going to tell me how you do it, are you?” He questions and she replies how she always does when he asks, blaming it on intuition and that she doesn’t know how she does it. As always, he doesn’t believe her. Y/N secretly does have a way of easily telling the twins apart, not rooted in intuition in the slightest but she doesn’t want to tell him. 

The truth is, the way her heart races when Fred looks or speaks to her is her way of telling them apart. Fred always has a mischievous glint in his brown eyes and the way he looks at Y/N makes her feel like she’s the only girl in the world. George is sweet, loving and exceptionally kind- he was there as a source of comfort and calmness for Y/N when the trio disappeared during their 7th year to hunt Horcruxes, when she and her family went into hiding. She loves George like she would love a brother, like how she loves Ron and Harry, but the love Y/N has for Fred is different and the catalyst for her ability to tell them apart.

“I’m going to get you one day. One day George and I will swap and you’ll get it wrong and as a reward for finally tricking the oh so wonderful Miss Y/N Y/L/N, you’ll tell me how you tell us apart.” 

-

It’s not even an hour later when Fred and George come down wearing each other’s clothing. Y/N’s well aware Fred prefers to wear warm and bright colours while George likes to wear the dark colours in their coordinated clothing, so seeing Fred walk down the stairs in George’s purple shirt and vice versa is funny, despite the fact they’re identical twins, Y/N thinks they look ridiculous and unfamiliar.

“George put the purple back on. You look weird in orange,” she says, as she goes back to help Molly with the vegetables for dinner and soon after she speaks, she hears someone angrily kick the table. She looks up from her potatoes she’s been peeling to see an entertained George and Fred who looks like he’s going to throw a child-size tantrum. 

“How!” He exclaims again, pulling the shirt up over his head, shoving it in George’s hands and stomping back upstairs to change. Y/N is about to follow him, genuine concern for Fred in tow. She knows he’s most likely just being dramatic to cause a ruckus but there’s a small part of her that considers he might be serious. 

“He’s fine, Y/N,” George states, changing his shirts and throwing Fred’s orange one over the back of the chair as he sits down, “I think he’s trying to rile you up into telling him how you do it.” 

She laughs at this, knowing that while she might not have told him, the look in George’s eye hints that he’s picked up on her feelings for his twin brother. But before she can say anything, Ron comes bounding down the stairs and right into the kitchen, Harry in tow. They’re both looking for food and when Ron’s hand makes his way towards the ham, Y/N smacks him.

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” she scolds which causes Harry to laugh. 

“But, mum,” Ron mockingly replies, “All the quidditch got me hungry!” He might be 19 but he’s sulking like a 10-year-old boy and Y/N thinks temper tantrums might run in the Weasley family. 

When Molly isn’t looking, however, Y/N sneaks him a piece of ham and Ron jumps up quickly, smacking a kiss to her cheek, “You’re the best!” he whispers as he quickly shoves the piece of ham in his mouth to not be caught by his mother. 

Soon enough, everyone’s crammed into the small kitchen and Molly waves them all out except Y/N, who she insists stays. She thinks it’s because she was already helping with the vegetables but when she’s about to ask for her next task, Molly has a rare mischievous glint in her eye.

“How do you tell my sons apart?” She enquires and Y/N groans. She hasn’t been asked how she tells the twins apart this often since she was at Hogwarts and before she can speak, Molly continues, “it’s just no one can besides us, and even then, sometimes I catch myself calling George, Fred sometimes.” 

Y/N sighs. She loves Molly like her own mother, but she loves to meddle like every mother. 

“I just know, I wish I had some excuse like a mother’s instinct, but I just know,” Y/N pauses and thinks how to word her next statement without spilling too much for potential eavesdroppers and Extendable Ears to hear, “They have different energies. I think I pick up on it easily.” 

Y/N hopes that’s enough for Molly to drop the conversation at hand and while Molly hums in agreement, she reads between the lines. She’s known for a while that Y/N carries a flame for the oldest twin, after all the way Y/N looks at Fred is the same way she looks at Arthur, so she’s hoping for the day they both stop dancing around their feelings. 

She already loves Y/N like a daughter, and she’d like it to be official one day. 

-

After dinner, the girls are all holed up in Ginny’s room. She loves staying at The Burrow. Y/N never grew up with sisters and her friendship with Hermione and Ginny are the closest she gets to them. They usually gossip, who’s dating who, who’s already getting married, sometimes it gets juicy and someone’s pregnant. 

When Ginny and Harry, and Hermione and Ron finally got together, they gushed for hours about how it finally happened and how excited they all were.

Tonight, unfortunately, the topic at hand is Y/N and Fred.

“When are you going to tell him?” Ginny enquires as she smooths out her face mask. Hermione’s braiding Y/N’s hair and when she doesn’t reply, Hermione grasps some hair and gives a hard tug. Y/N yelps and while Hermione mutters an apology, she doesn’t miss the wink she gives Ginny in the mirror.

“Tell Fred what exactly?” 

“About your feelings for him,” Ginny replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world that everyone should have known. Y/N starts to stutter, trying to find words to deny her feelings but these are her two best girl friends, her sisters and she can’t lie to them no matter how much she wants to. 

“Okay fine, they exist but he’s never knowing,” she states, a matter of factly as if it’s something to be proud of, “and he’s never finding out. I’m looking at you, Ginevra.” Ginny inherited her love to meddle from her mother, and if Y/N is positive about anything it’s that Ginny is going to meddle to get her best friend and brother together. 

“I’m pretty sure he likes you back,” Hermione says. She prides herself on being observant but even she didn’t notice Ron’s feelings for her until he quite literally put his lips on hers. 

“I’m just his little siblings’ best friend, Hermione, I doubt it,” she says as she grabs the tiny elastics to secure her hair. “Besides, I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school.”

“You’re choosing now of all days to get the wrong twin? George is dating Angelina. Fred hasn’t even been seen with a girl since he slept with one of Fleur’s cousins at the wedding.” Ginny says and something about this makes Y/N blush, almost happy that Fred’s been single for as long as she has, but the jealousy is in the back of her mind.

“... Shut up,” Y/N laughs as she grabs the nearest pillow and smacks Ginny over the head with it. This causes chaos in Ginny’s tiny bedroom and soon enough all three girls are defending themselves with pillows and jumping around the bedroom.

What none of the girls knew, however, was Fred standing outside of the bedroom, eavesdropping. He’s always been curious about what the girls talk about when the boys aren’t around and Fred reckons if he doesn’t have to hear about his little siblings’ sex life, it doesn’t hurt anybody. 

Except it does, and he hurts himself. He arrived just in time for Ginny to question why Y/N doesn’t admit her feelings to someone. At first, Fred was hopeful, especially when the conversation steers in the direction of her liking one of the twins. After all, Bill’s married, Percy’s… Well, he’s Percy and Charlie isn’t in England enough for him to believe Y/N was able to develop feelings for him. 

So that leaves himself and George from context clues. He’s always had a crush on her ever since they were in school, but he was always worried about coming off as creepy, pining after someone two years below him. 

But then Y/N says ‘I think he has a thing with one of the girls from his year at school’ and he walks off before he even hears the rest of the conversation, hearing the apparent confirmation of Y/N’s feelings for George. 

-

The summer is still sweltering hot when she decides to visit Diagon Alley three days later. She’s shopping for her nephew when she ends up in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Fred was unusually quiet when she said goodbye to him on Monday morning before she floo’d away to her job at the Ministry and she’s hoping to catch him at the shop during quiet hour. 

When she walks in, she’s met with a bell ringing and the voice that calls out ‘Hi, how are you today!’ doesn’t make her heart race so she immediately knows she’s caught the wrong twin at the counter.

“Hey, Georgie!” She makes her way over to the counter. It’s a Wednesday morning, so the shop has a lull in customers and he’s doing what Y/N assumes is a stock take of whizbangs. He gives her a nice smile as she potters her way over to him. She stops in front of the love potions, smelling the familiar scent of cinnamon, fireworks and something that can only be described as happiness in the small bottles. She’s so entranced for a moment that she doesn’t even notice George make his way up next to her.

“You don’t need one of these, by the way,” He whispers as he winks, looking behind him and seeing Fred standing on top of the spiral staircase not looking the happiest. 

“You’re the second person to tell me that this week,” she mutters, quickly putting the love potion vial down, “I don’t know what any of you mean.”

George chuckles at her obliviousness. It’s been obvious since they were teenagers about the feelings both Fred and Y/N harbour for each other but he can’t help but admit it’s just the tiniest bit funny. Like it’s a joke they’re all in on except the oblivious couple themselves.

“It’s because we’re more observant than you, darling,” George says, absent-mindedly fixing the display so it looks presentable. Y/N’s about to question him when someone clears their throat behind them- an elderly gentleman shopping for some grandkids when George excuses himself with the promise ‘this isn’t over’. 

Fred watched the interaction from the staircase and while he didn’t hear anything, he feels like he’s gotten punched in the stomach. He knows he’s never directly told George about his feelings for Y/N, and George is dating Angelina anyway and he’d never betray her, but he can’t ignore the slight feeling of upset he feels when he sees them interact.

-

“I think Y/N likes you,” Fred says nonchalantly and George almost chokes on his tea. It takes him a moment to fix his breathing before he looks at Fred like he’s got three heads.

“No, she doesn’t?” George questions, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world and that upsets Fred slightly. He’s not upset at George, he never has and he never will be upset with George, but it seems like his comment was brushed off without any deeper consideration.

“No, I think she does,” Fred says, twiddling his quill between his fingers as he stares at the tax invoice in front of him. Wednesday night is budget night and Fred knows he’s not going to get any work done if his mind is stuck on Y/N and her feelings for George.

“No, mate, she doesn’t,” George huffs and Fred notices the eye roll George gives him. George only ever gives him eye rolls when he’s being oblivious. Like when Fred spent 20 minutes looking for his wand last week only to find it in his pocket.

Fred’s convinced George is just being oblivious, blinded by his new relationship with Angelina that he hasn’t noticed Y/N’s feelings for him. “Do you wonder how she can tell us apart?” 

George huffs in annoyance as a reply and Fred pouts as he attempts to go back to his taxes. He’s reread the same line three times when George finally speaks.

“I think it’s got something to do with her feelings for us. She feels differently about one twin.” George is intentionally being coy, hoping to Godric that Fred caught the pointed stare and the emphasis but Fred wasn’t looking and the longer he dwells on what George has said the more he’s convinced he doesn’t have a chance with Y/N at all.

- 

It’s the weekly Sunday roast again and Fred isn’t expecting to floo into The Burrow and be met almost face to face with Y/N. He’s planned on ignoring her today, purposely volunteering to do any work needed at the shop while George floo’s to The Burrow early in the afternoon. 

It teeters on 5 pm when Fred finally arrives and he’s quickly engulfed in a hug by his mother with his father behind him telling him to stop working on Sundays as ‘Sundays are for family’. With a kiss to his mum’s forehead and a promise to his dad that he’ll force George into doing the Sunday work next week, who throws a piece of stale bread at Fred’s head while exclaiming ‘you offered!’ he quickly makes his way away from Y/N.

Molly’s quick to serve up dinner now Fred’s here, complaining he’s starving already. He quickly steals the seat next to Ron and pulls George down next to him- not wanting to allow Y/N to sit either side of him. Usually, she sits between Ron and Fred and when she turns the corner and the only available seat is the furthest from Fred, her heat sinks a little.

Dinner is pleasant, it always is at The Burrow. Hermione and Y/N talk about the ministry while Ginny tells stories of her Holyhead Harpies tryouts she had during the week. Y/N might let slip she works with the coach’s sister-in-law and overheard some high praise for a certain Miss. Weasley and Ginny’s eyes fill with tears when she hears this. 

There’s a quick lull in conversation as Molly waves her wand and the now empty plates make their way into the kitchen, children following behind them ready to help wash up but Fred makes his way outside. He likes to watch the sunset, the sun slowly dipping behind the hills where he learnt how to play quidditch as a kid as the sun becomes shades of orange. 

He’s sitting under the tree when Y/N follows him out. She’s shouting his name trying to find him. He slipped out without anyone noticing and that’s unusual for Fred so something is wrong. When she spots him, she starts jogging over and she can’t tell if he’s ignoring her or can’t hear her calling his name, so she tries something.

“George?” 

Fred turns, a smirk subconsciously forming on his lips and Y/N finally feels seen by him in a week. “It took me calling you your brother’s name to get your attention?” She asks, kicking sticks out of the way before she takes a seat next to him. 

“No, love. Just shocked you finally got us mixed up,” he replies, shoving her a little with his elbow. He knows she only did it to get his attention, but he’s Fred Weasley and he’s going to use this to his advantage. “I believe I told you when you get us mixed up, you’re legally required to tell me how you do it. I’m all ears.” He wiggles his eyebrows but deep down, he’s scared George’s assumption is right.

She rolls her eyes, but the love she has for this boy in her heart can’t be kept a secret anymore. This week she’s felt like he’s been ignoring her and while she and Fred are no means ‘best friends’, not like she is with the others, she’s felt a little piece of her universe missing knowing he’s been upset.

“You and George, I… I feel different about you to how I feel about George,” she starts and Fred’s breath hitches. He doesn’t know if he’s going to storm off or throw up so he just sits and stares at a rock. “George makes me feel comfortable. He’s always willing to talk to me about anything, feeds into the fact I can speak for hours on end about any topic if you let me,” she laughs and her nervousness is in her throat. She notices Fred isn’t looking at her and it’s making her want to run away.

“But you, you feel like home, Freddie. The way my heart races when I hear you speak or when you look at me. It’s the biggest indicator of how I tell you guys apart. George and you may be identical but the way you both make me feel is so different.” She’s whispering now and she’s realised Fred is looking at her so intently that the Earth might open up and swallow her whole. 

“Like, home?” 

She smiles softly and takes his big hand that’s been messing with rocks into her small ones. “Like I can tell you anything and you’ll never judge me. I could be having the worst day of my life and one joke from you can make me smile even if I’ve been crying for hours.” Her thumb starts to rub along the top of his hand and the way he shivers doesn’t miss her. 

“I’m trying to say, in a round-about kind of way, that I’m in love with you, Freddie,” her voice is shaky but there’s no backing out now. “I’m in love with you and this past week where it’s felt like you’re mad at me has me so confused because I don’t know what I did.” 

Fred feels incredibly guilty now, he was so caught up in his own feelings that he didn’t stop to think how his actions would affect Y/N. “I thought you liked George,” he whispers, and he feels his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “I thought you liked George and not me and I didn’t want to be near you knowing that.” 

She giggles and drops his hands to run her fingers through his hair. It’s still short but she thinks she can convince him to grow it out again. “Me? George? Not even for a second.” 

“Why not?” The joking in Fred’s voice is there but so is the genuine curiosity. 

“I don’t know. It’s just always been you, ever since I was 11 and you were bullying Ron into performing a spell to turn Scabbers yellow.” She laughs at the memory, watching scrawny Fred bully his small brother on the train platform. 

Fred looks down at her, her hands now playing at the hair at the back of his neck and he feels goosebumps rise across his skin. He wants nothing more to lean down and press a kiss to her lips and when he realises he never actually admitted his feelings to Y/N back, he starts to lean down, hoping to convey everything he feels for her through a kiss.

She’s quick to catch on and she leans up so quickly they almost bump noses. It’s messy, like most first kisses are, especially in an awkward sitting down position but the love they have for each other is there and obvious. They pull away when they’re barely kissing anymore, just smiling and laughing into each other’s mouths. 

“Does this mean we’re dating now?” Fred asks. It’s a dumb question, they both know it but when Y/N pretends to think he stands up and hauls her over his shoulders and starts swinging her around. The giggles that erupt from her make Fred’s heart swell and he’s about to put her down just to get down on one knee himself and propose right then and there.

“Yes, Freddie, if you want me to be your girlfriend then I’m yours.” Y/N replies and Fred smiles, he loves that. Not Y/N being his, he could never believe she’s an object, but she loves him and he loves her and now he understands why George was rolling his eyes at him.

“As long as you don’t get George and I mixed up in bed, I’m all yours.” He says it jokingly, but the smack he receives from Y/N is no joke and when he starts swinging her around again, he’ll forever make dumb jokes like this if he gets to hear her laugh like that for the rest of his days.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 3

A certain redheaded tabloid journalist tracks y/n down at work. Y/n finds out how persistent she is when she makes her an offer she just can’t refuse. 

Trigger warnings: Christianity, stalking, survivor’s guilt

You made it out alive, and that was more than could be said for some. 

Your consolation prize was a ghastly scar on your hand that you kept bandaged up as to not scare small children. You did get some worker’s comp after all; enough to pay for your medical bills and a little extra to make up for the lost workdays. All things considered, you were the lucky one. Four people lost their lives that day and three more were injured far worse than you. You should have felt grateful to be alive.

But somehow that was even worse. You got a couple stitches and some time off. It wasn’t worth four people’s lives. 

Your therapist explained it to you very gently. You were experiencing a phenomenon known as "survivor's guilt". She encouraged you to join a support group, get outside and familiarize yourself with your new experiences. 

This was good advice and all, but yours was the newest, hottest crime. You couldn't go anywhere without being hounded by reporters looking for whatever details you had somehow left out. Dr. Bloom encouraged you to take some time off work until the media circus died down, but you had bills to pay.

"I feel like there should be some rule about re-opening a restaurant within a week of it being an active crime scene." Charissa observed as she wiped down a table. "If anything, it's a health hazard."

"Are you serious?" You scoffed. You'd been tasked with refilling the salt shakers. Appropriate, because there was plenty of salt to go around. "Demand for this place has never been higher. Everyone wants to see if the blood is still on the carpet."

"Hooray for capitalism." She rolled her eyes. "Are you gonna be okay, [F/N]?"

"'Okay' is a very relative term." You forced a laugh. "I think I can make it through the shift if that's what you're asking."

"Aren't you behind the bar all evening?" She asked.

"Yeah, but that means I'm trapped." You folded your arms. "First thing you see when you walk in is the waitress who survived the- what are they calling him?"

"The Baltimore Butcher." She answered with a voice full of vitriol. "Do you think they ever consider the ramifications of giving literal murderers these weird superhero names? Like, no wonder we get copycats, they treat these guys like celebrities."

"Holy shit, right?!" You slammed the salt shaker down on the table. "Y'know, last night on the news, they used the creep's graduation photo and kept saying that he was a good Christian young man with a lot of prospects."

Charissa stuck out her tongue in disgust. "I saw that. And how he was 'corrupted' by crack cocaine. Once again, blaming a drug that was used to villainize poor Black neighborhoods in the 80's as some kind of corrupting agent."

You nodded furiously. "Instead of understanding that Christianity is a violent imperialist religion that lets violent white men absolve themselves of any guilt."

"And they knew it wasn't crack." Charissa added. "I heard that shit was completely uncut. You know he spent a lot on it."

"And I will say this until the day I am put in the goddamn ground," you tensed up. "The only reason the fucker escaped is because he is white."

"Hey y'all." Another waitress walked in for her shift. "What are we talking about?"

"Cocaine." Charissa answered. “Also white privilege.” 

"Great." She said dismissively. "Hey [F/N], can I scoop up that bar shift? I could really use the tips."

"Madison!" Charissa scolded. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What?" Madison shrugged and glanced at you. "I didn't get any paid time off. I need the money."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Charissa scowled. "Are you seriously joking about her trauma?!"

"It's fine, she can have it." You rolled your eyes, then turned them to Madison. "Just know you're the reason I have survivor's guilt."

"Well now I feel bad." Madison frowned.

"Good." You and Charissa said in unison.

It was sort of comforting to get back to the script. Almost nostalgic. It provided the illusion of normalcy in an incredibly abnormal new reality. 

You approached the first table in Madison’s block, hoping for a new beginning. A young woman with fiery red hair sat alone by the window. 

“Hi!” You greeted, with a smile as genuine as you could muster. “My name is [F/N], I’ll be your waiter tonight.” 

The woman smiled back. “Evening.” 

You couldn’t tell what, but something was off. Perhaps you were trying too hard to force normalcy. Or maybe it was the borderline predatory way the woman was looking at you; like a shark following a trail of blood. Either way, the vibes were rancid. 

“Can I start you off with a drink or is water okay?” You ask. 

“Could I possibly trouble you for a glass of chardonnay?” She asked, lowering her eyebrows. 

“Of course.” You nodded and reached for your pen. 

“Actually,” She corrected herself. “If you could bring a bottle and two glasses, I’m expecting company.” 

“Absolutely.” You scribble the order down on your notepad. “Do you have a preference?” 

She thought for a moment. “Oh, dealer’s choice. Whatever you prefer.” 

You soon returned to her booth with a bottle of your favorite chardonnay and two stemmed glasses. You poured a small bit in one glass to let her taste. 

“You have wonderful tastes.” She complimented, filling her glass. “It’s very delicious.” 

You rocked on your heels. “Would you like to place your order now, or do you want to wait until after your guest arrives?” 

“Actually,” she repeated, filling the other glass. “My guest is already here.” 

She slid the glass across the table and gestured to the other seat. 

You felt stupid, but there was no way to avoid this. You couldn't just not do your job. She cornered you by the confinements of your profession.

"I really can't, I'm on the clock." You said, apologetically. The wine beckoned you. "I'm sorry, maybe another time."

"Oh, bummer." The woman placed her chin in her hand and pouted. "Well, I'm sure there's something that would make your boss look the other way."

She glanced down at your bandaged hand, then met your eyes. "The bandages are a dead giveaway, [F/N] [L/N]."

You then noticed a wire sticking from her pocket. Undoubtedly some kind of recording device. You looked at the ground. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave."

"But who will drink all this wine?" She asked, raising her glass.

"Ma'am." Your voice hardened as you tried to bite back an overwhelming rage. "Please leave the restaurant. I'm not going to ask you again."

Your manager, Matthew, passed by. "What's going on here?"

"This waitress is being very rude." The woman complained. "I ordered chardonnay, and she brought me chablis."

"Chablis is a type of chardonnay." You corrected. Even you found it strange that this was the hill you were willing to die on. "She asked for my preference, and I prefer the unoaked varieties."

Matthew looked confused. "Well, she's right."

You gestured to her pocket and he caught on immediately. He narrowed his eyes. "Ma'am, please leave the premises or I'll be forced to call the police."

The woman stood up, rummaged through her pockets and slapped a handful of bills down on the table. She then proceeded to drink both glasses of wine and walk away.

Matthew looked at you apologetically as he collected the bills. "Are you sure you want to be here tonight? I can call in someone to cover for you."

You shook your head and grabbed the bottle by its neck. "No, it's okay. I appreciate the concern but I really just want things to go back to normal."

"Hey!" A woman from the adjacent table called out. You prepared to immediately recant your statement about not going home.

"We like chablis." The woman said, gesturing to herself and her friend.

Her friend joined in. "And if that nosy reporter lady isn't gonna drink it..."

You glanced at Matthew, who shrugged. "Sure. It's yours."

The women exchanged delighted looks as you placed the bottle on their table. Matthew handed you a couple of clean glasses and you began to pour.

"For this wine, I suggest any of our wonderful seafood dishes." You explained, your cheeks stinging with a smile. "It also pairs quite nicely with chicken and game bird."

"Thank you." One of the women said. "If you don't mind, we'd like to take a look at the menu, please."

"Of course." You nodded. "Just flag me down whenever you're ready."

"This is why I put you behind the bar, by the way." Matthew gently scolded you as you collected the soiled glasses.

"Didn't you hear?" You said. "Madison needs the money because we can't all have paid time off."

"You should have come to me first." He sighed. "She has no right to say those things to you."

"Never stopped her before." You shrugged.

"I'll talk with her after the dinner rush." He said. "Just... try not to get cornered tonight, okay?"

"I'll do my best." You answered, flatly. “Because that’s definitely something I can control.” 

The rest of your shift went smoothly, or, as smoothly as could be expected given the circumstances. The nosy reporter was right, your bandage was a dead giveaway. You had to dodge a couple of questions, but most people had enough decorum to know the wound--metaphorical and literal--was still fresh. 

You said goodbye to Matthew and Charissa, collected your things and walked out to your car. You put the key in the ignition, only to find your gas tank was completely empty. You had just filled it that morning. 

You bit back a scream and fought the urge to slam your head against the steering wheel. Throwing the door open, you mentally prepared yourself to either make a long trek to the nearest gas station, or beat someone up.

“Looking for this?” A smug voice said over the cicadas. 

You turned around and saw the nosy reporter from before holding up a canister. A deep, blistering fury overtook your face as you slammed the car door. “You siphoned my fucking gas?” 

 “It’s not like you left me with much choice, [F/N].” She crossed her arms. “You’ll get it back once you answer my questions.” 

You threw your head back in disbelief. “You’re Freddie Lounds, aren’t you?” 

“I see I’m not the only one who does my research.” She said, looking a bit impressed. “How’d you know?” 

“It’s the first thing that comes up when you search ‘unethical crime journalists Baltimore’.” You answered. “There’s a whole flair dedicated to you on the subreddit for murder survivors.” 

Freddie seemed proud of herself. “Need a ride?” 

“I’d rather drive off a cliff.” You said, honestly, before turning around to leave. 

“Where are you going?” She walked after you. 

“To get more fucking gas, you evil bitch.” You shouted back. “Are you gonna follow me to the BP too?” 

“Look, I heard what you were saying to your friend.” She called out. “About white privilege.”

“Yeah,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s the same privilege that allows you to siphon a stranger’s gas and sit in a parking lot all night without getting arrested.”

“And I agree with you.” She hurried to your side, her chunky platform boots clacking against the asphalt. “They did you dirty and they’re shooting themselves in the foot by not listening to you.” 

You turned around and threw up your arms. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?”

“I invited you to sit down over a bottle of wine, did I not?” Freddie chuckled. 

“Cornering me at work is not a gesture of goodwill.” You huffed. “And I actually do want to put my story out there, but all you’re accomplishing by stalking me is guaranteeing you won’t be the one to do it.” 

“Are you really in a position to be that selective?” Freddie smirked and placed all her weight on one hip. 

You groaned. “What?” 

“The Baltimore Butcher is still out there, and you won’t be the hot new victim forever.” She grinned sadistically. “Soon enough, him or some other psycho is going to strike, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up.” 

“Good. Then I can go back to living my life.” You said. 

“But what if his next victim is a Christian?” Freddie grabbed your shoulder. “What if the next person who narrowly avoids getting their throat slashed decides to go on record and say that he doesn’t represent ‘real Christianity’?” 

You went quiet. You hadn’t considered it, but the thought of anyone downplaying his faith as a motivation made your blood boil. You looked into the man’s eyes and saw a person driven to kill for his god. A god he shared with the crusaders, conquistadors and slavers. 

“...but it does. Christians colonized half the planet for--” 

You stopped yourself when you saw Freddie’s smile. 

“You want to get on your soapbox, now’s your chance.” She bit her lip. “Take control of the conversation while you still can.” 

“Fine.” You spat. “I get off work tomorrow at four.” 

Freddie shoved the gas can into your hands. “I’ll see you then.” 

[artistgoudeau]

Black/fem reader x Everyone “The Do-Over”

Reader is a huge Blerd (black nerd) that gets transported to Attack on Titan universe in the year 843. She “luckily” was coming home from vacation. Fell asleep on the plane and woke up outside the walls (with her bags to make life easier for y/n) Now reader is curvy and has a fat ass (I DO make the rules). This, plus her darker skin and fluffy hair, drives everyone crazy. Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange are all very close. Rumors go around about them fucking all the time. But no one could prove it. You didn’t even know if they liked each other. You could only guess. But Erwin is always so interested in talking with you. Clumsy man seems to always drop something on the floor for you to bend over and reach. Hange squeals everytime she sees you and is NOT shy about flirting with you. You’re so pretty and she genuinely is curious about you. She ends up brushing her hands in weird places but that’s just her being extra excited. Levi is canonically a virgin so you wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable with your cleavage and fat thighs when it was hot and you had to train. But it seemed okay because everytime you looked his way, his eyes would travel up from your ass to your eyes and stay there. Miche was the most obvious. He liked to flirt and joke about what your babies would look like. How those kind of hips are rare and he would love to help you with extra training. He would sniff you often. Commenting on how your hair smelled so soothing. You catch the other three vets staring daggers at him if they happen to catch his flirting.

One day you overhear a conversation happening in the commander's office. Eavesdropping isn’t very nice.

Miche: good GOD I can’t take much more of this..

Levi: Are you some teenage idiot who can’t keep it in his pants? Y/n has probably had enough of the fucking flirting! You’re her superior! Act. Like. It.

Hange: Now WAIT A MINUTE! I know for a fact you’ve been beating off to her in the showers!

Levi: And just how THE HELL would you know that?

Erwin: Okay. Okay. Let’s not beat around the bush, y/n is very…ahem… attractive. But we can’t just all gang up on her with our feelings.

Miche: Why not?

Hange/Levi/Erwin: WHAT THE FUCK?!/ Hah?!EXCUSE ME!

Miche: whoa whoa whoa! I didn’t mean FORCE HER! I meant what if we all approached her in our own way and try to actually build bonds with her. She will feel left out if only one of us showed interest and the rest of us just ignore her trying to be nice. Besides, I don’t really want anyone else to have a chance to steal her. If we can learn to share we might be able to make this work.

Erwin: That is incredibly-

Before your commander could even finish his sentence you dropped your papers you were holding close to your chest as you leaned your ear to the door to listen. Up until that moment you had very sinful thoughts about most of the scouts. Muscles + being in an unfamiliar place with no one to relate to or really even looks like you = sad(horny) and desperately seeking an excuse to act out. It was juvenile, you knew. But you had been transported to an ENTIRELY fictional world where you knew everything about everyone and you were the ONLY brown skinned person in the walls! You had been stuck out in the wilderness when you were caught by none other than the Commander himself.

~Flashback~

You both stared at each other for what felt like hours. Him: looking at a woman with features he’s NEVER seen before. A person that only exists in the past and in his fathers stories about the world. You: completely stunned by the fact that one second you were at the airport on your way home from vacation, and now you are staring at a man (that you have definitely read questionable fanfiction of) staring at you. That would just be too good of a cosplay to have a giant naked man also running behind him to catch up to you two. Then you snapped out of it and called him by his name.

Y/n: ERWIN MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!

You were running towards him before you even registered what was happening. You ran to his horse's backside and stood at a decent distance before you smacked its ass and it ran like hell. Erwin seemed to be in a trace as his eyes followed your frame but his hearing stopped working. When his horse suddenly lurched forward he was nearly thrown off but had enough sense to right himself before turning to look back at you trying to run the titan in a different direction. What the fuck are you doing?

Y/n: oh fuck! I’m gonna die! I can’t believe this! I hope Erwin is okay! God if you’re there I need some fucking help!

God answered your prayers that day.

As if on cue (like it’s a tv show or something) the titan suddenly is struck from it’s nape and falls a few fucking feet from you!!! You didn’t even have to look up to know that it was Levi who came to the rescue. Not that you could, you were currently hyperventilating, sweating, and swearing.

Levi: hey! HEY! Look at me! Can you tell me your name? How did you get out here? Are you alone?

You had enough sense (and therapy) to try and focus on his words.

Y/n: my name is y/n. I don’t know. And I don’t know. I just woke up here.

Levi: outside the walls?

Y//n: looks like it.

Erwin finally speaks up after watching Levi save you then listening to Levi question you.

Erwin: How is that possible? There’s no one living beyond the walls and someone as unique as you would’ve been hard to miss inside the walls.

You look at Erwin and you can’t control the deviated look on your face. Both of them catch it but they don’t know what it means. You are crashing now from the rush of life saving adrenaline. You need to be quick and concise here and get your point across.

Y/n: I am not from this world. But everything you know about the Titans and this world has been a lie. *you look to Erwin and stare into his eyes* Your father was right, Erwin. And because he was so close to the truth the MPs killed him. And he WAS very close. I know the truth the king is hiding from you all and I want to make this right.

Erwin and Levi are stunned. The truth of everything?! Dropped seemingly from the sky!? This must be a trap! But Erwin's father being mentioned was entirely too specific.

Erwin: How do you know my father if you aren’t from this world? How do we know you aren’t a mad woman dressed so strangely and speaking in a dialect I can’t quite grasp. Even if you aren’t mad, how could we possibly know you are telling the truth.

You think for a moment then look to Levi

Y/n: Your name is Levi Ackerman. You were born from Kuschel Ackerman, who was a prostitute, so your father is unknown. She died while you were still young and you were raised by a man named Kenny. He taught you how to fight with a knife and then left you when you could defend yourself. You and you friends, Isa-

Levi: ENOUGH!

You flinch away but you understand. You just told a lot of his personal business right next to Erwin and you’re almost sure he didn’t know all of that. But accuracy was key here. You couldn’t be lying or crazy to recount his life in such detail. He and Erwin were stunned.

Erwin: I think it’s best if you come with us.

Y/n: please. I promise I just want to help humanity.

Levi: tch by spilling everyone’s personal information?

Y/n: no. Because I know everything that happens concerning the titans, humanity, and survey corps for the next 2000 years. And in the next five years, if we don’t change the future, humanity and the earth itself will be 80% decimated. The ground will be uninhabitable for hundreds of years. And even when humanity somehow survives. The land you all currently occupy. Your cultures. Your literature. Your pasts, presents, and futures will be completely eradicated by the outside world in the next 2000 years. Please believe me. I DON'T want this to happen and I’m sure you don’t either. What’s more, I can prove it.

Erwin: Show me.

Chapter end

Please leave comments and criticisms. I am just starting out writing fanfics and I want to make sure I’m doing something right lmao.

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

It started with a whisper

I originally wrote ‘Like I did with you’ as a one-shot but people wanted a sequel. This turned out to be waaaaay longer than expected (4.7k word count). Inspired by Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I hope you lot enjoy!

Ao3

(Also this is Mari’s new outfit, all credits go to the original artist)

————

Two teens stood upon the balcony of a large banquet hall, exposed to the midsummer night air. The sky was a lilac blanket that hung over the Parisian buildings, speckled with glowing stars. The moon, with it’s crescent smile, beamed down of the young couple.

Hey, baby, won't you look my way?

Marinette’s eyes were closed as she rested her head upon his shoulder, relaxing after the night’s rapid escalation. Tonight she had arrived at the ball with the intent to be there for her friends, but somehow she found herself within the arms of Gotham’s (and probably Paris’) Ice Prince. She had overheard his nickname from the Gotham students, one of which being Jon, who was in the middle of mocking the young Wayne. She had never considered that nickname as suitable; sure he was temperamental & had a tendency to snap, but icey to the core? No.

I can be your new addiction

Damian was calm. For the first time in his life he felt like he could take a breath. His exhale was carried off by a small gust of wind, the bush over hanging the stone railing rustled. With his inhale, the scent of Marinette’s perfume became present once more. Mixed with the crisp night’s air, her usual scent of pastries was mixed with what could only be described as ambrosia. His phone vibrated within his pocket, it was never on volume due to the potential risk it caused during his heroic activities.

“Shit.” Notifications covered his screen, multiple tweets, Instagrams and Tiktoks in which he had been tagged in. But the alert came from his family’s private messaging chat. The whole thread was a shit storm, Grayson and Todd’s messages were completely capitalised (he learnt years ago this meant ‘to yell’ in writing form) and both had multiple ‘keyboard spasms’. Drake, like the thorough detective he is, had combed through the images and videos, investigating their validity. His honorary sisters had replied with ‘awwwww’(s) and ‘Omg we MUST meet this girl! I need to know how she tamed the demon!’. He could practically hear Brown’s shrill voice from across the ocean.

Hey, baby, what you gotta say?

No reply from his father or Alfred. The two of them were the only semblance of ‘normal’ paternal figures he had within his life, after the sham of a relationship he had previously held with his grandfather. Their silence unnerved him.

Marinette had noticed his attention had shifted to his phone, her own mobile was buzzing away within her baby pink purse. Messages, notifications of account tagging and comments galore. A sigh left her lips when she saw her parents seemed to be none the wiser. Good, she didn’t need to deal with future adoration for ‘The boy who swept our daughter off of her feet’ (or something along those lines).

Her cheeks regained some of the warmth they held before as she thought of her parent’s reaction. Scrolling through her Twitter she saw her friends had posted multiple images of the night’s events, majority being her shared dance.

Chloé Bourgeois @TheBestBourgeois

what kind of Disney shit is this? (Insert video of two teens dancing around an mostly empty dance floor.)

Alix Kubdel @Sk8trGirl

Replying to @TheBestBourgeois

I KNOW RIGHT?! THEY WERE FUCKING FLOATING!!!

All you're giving me is fiction

She was thankful that they hadn’t tagged her but she hadn’t been spared by others in attendance. Her post thread had blown up, thousands had commented and even more had viewed the evidence. There was no way she would come out of this unscathed.

“Has anyone been on Twitter today?” The blonde of the family asked as she walked into the dining room. Her eyes focused on her scrolling screen, brows furrowed in confusion. “Actually has anyone seen what’s happening on any of our socials?”

It was early in the afternoon and the family had recently returned home after a straining stakeout. The Joker had broken out of Arkham and the Batfam had to deal with his minions. Dick’s arm was in a sling (sprained from a grapple gone wrong), Jason was icing his hand, Alfred was stitching Bruce’s chest wounds while Tim and the girls escaped without severe injuries. All were still recuperating and finally able to recharge.

Alfred always enforced a strict ‘no devices at the dinner table’ rule; no matter how urgent it was, it could wait until after sustenance was consumed. Tim strongly opposed this, but there was no arguing with Agent A. This all surmises that probably no one had seen the crap storm on social media.

I'm a sorry sucker and this happens all the time

Bruce sighed, bringing his free arm up to rub his eyes. Tilting his head back to look at Steph, “Who was it this time?” Barbara quickly took out her phone to see what Stephanie was talking about, all the while glancing accusingly at Dick and Jason. Both of whom held up their arms (or in Dick’s case arm), declaring their innocence.

“It wasn’t fucking me!”

“Jason! Language!” Dick shot a glare at Jason and was met with one in return. “It wasn’t me either.”

“Then who-“ Bruce started before being cut off by his most rambunctious daughter.

I found out that everybody talks

Stephanie with a squeal, exclaimed that it was Damian. Visions of what the Wayne brat could have done flashed through the heads of everyone in the room. He had been sent overseas before the quarantines and lockdowns hit. During Damian’s first month in France he had been forced into online schooling and then finally when he got to go to in-person classes he hated it. Described the class as a kindergarten with petty and vindictive toddlers.

Had he broken someone’s arm? Was that person of such importance that it had spread over multiple social media platforms? France’s government had announced on June 15th, that teens were now being inoculated so him having COVID-19 was doubtful. Had he insulted the wrong person? Had he taken over the government? He certainly had the potential.

Everybody talks, everybody talks

What they saw stunned them, even Steph as she watched it for the 7th time. Damian Wayne was dancing. But not only that, he was dancing with a girl.

It started with a whisper

“What is this shit?”

No one verbally objected to Jason’s outburst but he was sent a harsh glare from Alfred, Dick and Bruce. Their focus soon returned to the images and videos before them. Babs’ and Steph’s phones were returned to them as the others ran to grab their own devices. They all met back at the table, comparing the posts and comparing their notes.

I can hear the chitchat

“There’s no way this can be real.”

“Jesus Tim,” Barbara rolls her eyes, “have you seen the amount of posts there are? You’d be an idiot to think otherwise.”

Take me to your love shack

“I’m with Tim, how do we know this isn’t some skit. I mean, Demon Spawn almost looks normal. That’s a matter of concern.” He almost dry heaved when he agreed with Tim. Damian couldn’t be capable of naturally exuding that amount of humanity unless there was something in it for him.

Mamas always gotta backtrack

“I was just saying Babs, that we should check the credibility of these images. For all we know they could be gorilla glued together and trying to get unstuck.” Tim cringed at his own reasoning, he really needed to either sleep (probably not going to happen anytime soon) or find his favourite coffee brand (which had been one of the first to vanish after the covid hoarders appeared).

When everybody talks back

Dick was too busy freaking out and spam messaging the youngest Wayne, to defend Damian’s humanity. The family saw this and followed suit, wanting to get information from the source.

Chat name: Alfred supremacy

BigBird: AHHHHHH DAMIAN!

BigBird: YOU LOOK SO CUTE!!!

BigBird: HAIFJDNDNFI

LittleWing: WTF HAPPENED DEMON SPAWN YOU LOOK ALMOST HUMAN

Babs: who knew the city of love would influence the brat

Blondie: they are so cuteeeeeee!

Blondie: We HAVE to meet her!

Silent-but-deadly: agreed.

Timbo: YO DEMON

Timbo: Apparently the videos are legit

Timbo: are you being blackmailed?

And it just devolved into more chaos from there, fueled by the fact that they saw Damian’s ‘Blood Son’ account appear online before vanishing once more. Dick shrieked, “I FOUND HER ACCOUNT!”

The family gathered around the eldest son, peering over his shoulder to view his iPhone 12max screen. They saw a young girl’s Instagram account. It was locked but they could see her profile pic, the girl had black hair and looked to be if Asian decent. They compared it to the videos but it was hard to see due to the hall’s lighting and the minimised facial features of the pfp. Alfred suggested that they search up her username and see who has tagged her, some might have other photos of her.

After research for awhile, the family began to get frustrated with lack of results.

Hey honey you could be my drug

You could be my new prescription

“Come on!” Jason complained, “What kind of teenage girl doesn’t post her life online?” He ignored the girls glares and went back to researching. How had the account by the name of ‘mariiiiinette’ to managed to prevent the entire Wayne clan from accessing it? Damn Instagram privacy settings. He groaned, dragging a hand down his face, “We are fucking stupid. Why don’t we just use the Bat-computer? It would be so much fucking easier.”

“It shouldn’t be used for civilian issues-“

Too much could be an overdose

“The girl could be a meta for all we know! We aren’t safe until we know who she is.” Jason points a finger at Tim, his paranoia flared up and even though he would never admit it, Jason would do anything to protect each member of his family (although Bruce is still debatable).

All this trash talk make me itching

Barbara and Tim took their usual positions as Oracle and Red Robin (who had been banned from patrol due to lack of sleep). The rest of the Batfam stood behind them either with arms crossed or still failing at researching.

Oh my my shit

“The account is owned by a girl called Marinette Dupian-Cheng. She is French-Chinese and her parents own a popular bakery. Also if it wasn’t already obvious, she goes to Collège Françoise Dupont, aka Damian’s French school.” Tim begun informing his nosy family, “But this account has been inactive for the past 6 months, which is strange due to her frequent posting schedule before hand. It seems she probably has a second account and this is her old one.”

Everybody talks, everybody talks

“Not only that,” Barbara interrupted. “There are unopened messages from other accounts that accuse her of being a bully. There is a whole Facebook page about this girl and how she has been hurting her old friends, but neither side seems reliable. The so called victims seem to be twisting the truth but there is barely any information about Marinette so we can’t disprove it either.”

“Read out some of the messages.” Bruce took a cup of coffee from Alfred and sipped it.

The main screen of the bat computer displayed a Facebook group with the banner picture being a photo of Marinette. “They are mostly complaints expected of teen girls when there is a girl they don’t like; ‘Marinette is such a know-it-all’, ‘She is constantly insulting Lila’s intelligence’. They go on to talk about how Marinette was briefly expelled from the Collège before being reinstated by the principle for a reason unknown to them.”

Everybody talks too much

“Her school reports up until this year were good. The newest one states, ‘While Marinette is a wonderful and bright student, I encourage her to settle her disagreements outside of class. This seems to only be a recent occurrence and I implore her to go to the guidance council if she is in need of help.’” A beat of silence echoes through the cave, Tim sighed. “Jason’s meta theory could be correct. She could have just recently started exhibiting her abilities and using them to get what she wants.”

“Bruce what do you want to do?”

“We’re going to Paris.”

She opened her eyes to the blaring morning light that streamed through the blinds. Her lashes still painted with mascara that refused to leave. She felt a pang of sorrow when she was removing her makeup and dress last night, she never wanted the night to end. She shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, covering her mouth when she yawned. She greeted her mother as she entered the kitchen to get breakfast.

She glanced at her phone and there was the chaos that was started hours ago and it was still occurring. It was the weekend, she wouldn’t need to deal with her classmates until Monday. But she would still have to survive her parent’s interrogation. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her mother smirking at her.

Everybody talks

“Nadja told me some interesting news about last night.” Marinette held her breath, glaring at the toaster, willing it to hurry up so she could escape. “Well,” Sabine patted her shoulder before rubbing Mari’s back. “I know you didn’t want to go but I hope you had fun.”

With that she exited the kitchen, probably going to help her father in the bakery. The ravenette stared after her, eye widened in shock, jumping when the toaster went off. Buttering her toast she went over the conversation, her brows furrowed in confusion. She had expected a ‘When do I get to meet the oh so famous prince?’ or ‘Should I be expecting a new guest sometime in the near future?’ or at least a ‘Who was that young man, Bǎozàng (宝藏 it means treasure)?’ But she said nothing.

A small smile was plastered upon her face as she changed and went down to help her parents in the bakery. Her father didn’t say anything either, he gave her a knowing smile before continuing to kneed the dough. She sat at the the store front as the cashier whilst her parents were busy making ‘Paris’s Finest Pastries’.

Her musings slowly faded as she was brought back to reality by badly hushed whispers. Two young preteens were by the bread roll casing near the door. She had seen them come in before with their parents, the girls went to the prestigious international school over in the 16th arrondissement. The one with purple hair kept whispering to the brunette, both ‘subtly’ glancing towards her. Using her enhanced hearing she listened in on their conversation.

“That’s her, I swear that’s her in the video.”

The blonde’s face soured likes she sucked on a lemon. “No, it wasn’t good lighting there is no way he would dance with someone like her.”

Everybody talks

Marinette had tough skin but their words had an impact, only a small one due to her defence mechanism of repressing emotions. She stopped listening and went back to drawing in her sketchpad, she was in desperate need of a new school outfit.

The two girls eventually came up to the counter, goods in hand. Marinette rung up and bagged their items (paper because save the turtles sksksk) in a tired daze. A phone was shoved into her face, her eyes barely adjusted to view the screen before the blonde spoke.

“Is this your instagram?” She asked in a tone so snobbish that it should be illegal from a person her age. Marinette finally was able to view the screen that was barely an inch from her face. Her old Instagram ‘mariiiiinette’ was displayed on screen, she hesitantly nodded, gaze flicking back to the two in front of her.

The blonde’s nose scrunched up and the purple goth girl squealed in delight. They soon after left the store, their conversation had devolved into ‘See! I told you’ and ‘Yeah, yeah. You were right.’

Walking to school on Monday, she had finally come down from cloud nine. She still rode the tail end of her high as she rushed along her path to her campus, she wasn’t going to be late but she sure wasn’t going to be early. She had spent the better part of the weekend designing and sewing a brand new outfit. Her new look was composed of a black cropped singlet (L'amour gagne hemmed into it and it’s straps), paired matching peach plaid cropped overshirt and a-line miniskirt. Her hair was down, ballet flats were worn and her makeup was the usual with the added edition of a rose gold eyeshadow.

Even though her face was covered in a black and gold mask, she looked hot.

She reached the campus and the whispers started again, people were still buzzing from Friday night. Her classmates, the majority of her grade and the younger years seemed to gossiping before class about the formal’s events. She couldn’t spot any of her friends or the two Gotham transfers, so she was stuck listening the the chitchat. Why couldn’t she have been late like usual?

Damian had a fowl disposition and it showed in multiple icey glares (and that was before he even reached the collège). His family had made their appearance known in Paris at 1am Sunday morning. He could have used his dorm to escape but his family didn’t have the word ‘privacy’ within their vocabulary. He didn’t want to have to pay for a lock replacement due to his brothers’ (most likely Todd with Drake & Grayson laughing at him) lock picking habit.

The Ice Prince was back with full force. He had just been... influenced by all the other couples. Yes he did respect Dupain-Cheng and he appreciated her company & pleasant conversations. He would struggle to hide a small smile at the memory of the dance, even if he denied himself the happiness of normality, he felt content when reminiscing.

“Ooo the Ice Prince is here, did he have a fight with his princess or something?” The voice seemed to mock him.

“The Disney Magic is gone. The demon is back.”

Everybody talks

At the second jeer he shot a glare at the perpetrator. Jon held his hands up in an ‘I surrender manner’, laughing as he joined Damian at his side. The two entered the school’s large foyer and looked to see if any of the classes were open yet. Sadly they weren’t, before he was wrong and the his class was plain torture but this was truely hell.

He saw Dupain-Cheng sitting alone on the stairs, drawing within her sketchpad. He wondered how a girl like her, who always seemed to be involved in other’s lives (for the better) was ignoring all of the comments about her. She felt his focus centre on her, eyes flicking up to meet his, she provided him with a small wave before continuing to draw.

Jon nudged him with an elbow to his ribs and dragged him off to the side, into the boy’s locker rooms. Jon scowled at the door, “It’s a mad house out there. You’ve heard what some people are saying right?”

“Why would I care about these imbeciles?”

Jon jabbed Damian in the chest, causing the demon to stumble. Green eyes darted from blue eyes to the tan finger. “You care when lies hurt people you care about.”

The day began to rapidly decline once the two dance partners took their seats, next to each other. They had both been placed up the back of the class and them sitting together hadn’t been a problem until now apparently. She wasn’t even safe when the teacher started their lecture, whispers and glances were cast towards them. Once the two got to biology it was better, Ms Mendeleiev was a strict teacher and was able to control the class.

Everybody talks

But the recess came. When the bell rang she slowly started packing up her equipment, Alix and Max (who she shared biology with) waited for her; she watched as the Ice Prince left through the door. She knew she didn’t need to be concerned about her friends joining in with the gossiping, if anything they would dispel people and tell them to ‘Mind their own fucking business’ because this whole situations is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous.

She did receive some slight teasing from Alix about being a Disney princess, but Marinette quipped back about the skater’s fairytale story being ‘Pinknette, the Geek and the Beast’. The three met up with the other two of their group, they had just come from geography. Kim was complaining that Argentina was a state in America.

“That’s Arkansas you idiot!” Chloe shrieked, lightly hitting his arm with her white handbag. Max held his head in his hand as he approached, how had his tutoring sessions failed so badly?

Chloe turned to Marinette, a smile forming from her glare. The blonde examined the designer’s clothing, nodding. “You look like you are about to have a hot girl summer.”

Marinette’s face burned, the tips of her ears coated in red. Alix chuckled and nudged her shoulder.

Everybody talks

“Look at her, she is so desperate for his attention that she probably copied those designs.”

“Why do you think he danced with her anyways? Maybe she has something on him? I mean, she forces him to sit next to her in class, who knows what else she has done.”

What. The. Fuck.

Chloe glowered towards Lila’s posy. “We have a fucking seating plan, those cretins-“ She made a motion to storm over but was caught by the ravenette, looking back to Mari, her rage decreased from a boil to a simmer.

“No Chlo. It’s fine, it’s not worth it.”

Everybody talks... back

The group walked out to the school’s front steps, it was a mad house... a mad courtyard? Students sitting on the stairs, on the grass and standing around mingling, all of them now were staring at her. She held her backpack close to her chest (she had swapped her signature coin-bag purse for the pastel pink bag), pretending its a shield. Her friends circled around her becoming an obstacle to prevent their stares. If people were afraid of a scowling Kim then they don’t know the scorn of Chloe or Alix’s bite. And Max, sweet quiet Max.... you better hope he doesn’t have blackmail on you (he probably does), he can dismantle your life with a single anonymous post.

Rushed footsteps approached them. The group was broken apart by a rude Wayne boy, he swept Mari away from the school and the gossip crowds within. Her four friends shouted at him and he kept walking, shooting a glare at them in response. He kept pushing Marinette forward with a hand placed on the small of her back, her backpack was now swung over his other shoulder.

They ended up in her favourite alcove. She had brought him here with the other Gotham transfers for a native’s tour of Paris. It had always been her safe place to be creative.

It started with a whisper (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“My apologises for our rushed departure but you seemed to want to get out of their anyhow.” His gruff tone danced through the silence, his head still peaking around the corner; watching for any unwelcome guests.

“Thank you.” She whispered, her voice almost being carried off by the gentle wind. A genuine smile illustrated upon her face.

“We weren’t able to converse after the events of the other night. I would like to formally apologise once more for my actions causing this adverse reaction. If I had kn-“

“You don’t need to apologise!” She squeaked, hiding her eyes behind her fisted hand. Her shoulders curled inwards as she tried to make herself seem as small as possible, a side effect of her common use of her secondary miraculous form: Multimouse.

“I chose to dance with you, you don’t need to apologise for my own actions.” He stared at her with confusion. He had taken the blame so she wouldn’t need to do so herself; but she had taken it anyways. He had given her an out. Why does she always take the blame, even for things out of her control?

“But if I hadn’t danced with you then you wouldn’t have been the focus of the entire school.”

Marinette stepped forward, her eyes hardened and blazing. “Damian Friday night I went there out of obligation to my friends, I didn’t want to be there. But dancing with you? That was the highlight of my week, probably my month too. I enjoyed our time together.” Her face softened, lips twitched downwards ever so slightly. “I don’t regret anything about that night, but do you?”

He was bad at comfort. Everyone in his family avoided him when they were in need, he plainly didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t visibly upset but he sensed that she is disappointed that he apparently didn’t share the same opinion of the night. The only thing he regretted about that night was letting Jon call him a coward, but then again if he didn’t he never would have danced with Dupa- Marinette.

He picked up her clenched hand, the tension in her body alleviated at his embrace. He remembered how Grayson would apologise to Kor’i or how his father interacted with Ms Kyle. He brought their hands up and placed a kiss upon her knuckles.

And that was when I kissed her (everybody talks, everybody talks)

“I do not regret anything either—“ he cleared his throat, “In fact, I’d appreciate if we would be able to interact more, especially outside of that cesspit.”

Was he...?

It didn’t matter.

She smiled the same dazzling smile she gave him at the dance. She nodded while laughing, “I’d love that.”

Everybody talks

The two stay talking, hidden within their secret alcove for the rest of the day. She texted her parents to say she was with a friend and would be back later that night. Damian didn’t bother texting his family, Marinette knew he had to be back soon due to his dorm’s curfew.

The sun was setting at they walked back together, he did the gentlemanly thing and dropped her off at her bakery door. She could see her mother behind the register inconspicuously looking over at the two of them. Damian’s lips quirked upwards, she was satisfied with his kinda-smile.

He walked back, hands in pockets and a neutral expression upon his face instead of a scowl. He reached his door and took his keys, he found that it was already open. Damn.

His family was splayed out within his two roomed dorm. Todd and Drake were fighting over a place to sit on his bed, whilst his father sat at his desk, watching the commotion. The three of them turned to him as he enter the room, they were the only family members able to attend on short notice; Cain had a ballet audition, Gordon & Brown had concert tickets for tomorrow, Grayson had to take care of Mar’i while Kor’i was on Tamaran and Alfred stayed to ensure no one died during their night time activities.

“We need to talk Damian.” His father stood, leaning onto the desk chair. “The school called and said you had an unexcused absence for half the day. Where were you Damian?”

Damian stared into his father’s eyes. He was fifteen, almost an adult, but was treated like he was ten again.

“I was with a friend.”

“Probably the girl from the dance. Marinette, right?” Todd mocked him. Damian snapped his head in the direction of his bed, glaring at both his brothers.

“That’s what I want to talk about with you Damian. Now I don’t know her personally but from what we’ve discovered through our investigation we have some concerns. What’s happened Damian?”

The youngest Wayne’s glare shifted off of his brothers to the floor, and then finally to his father; his family sitting in wait for his answer. Straightening his posture, his shoulders clicked as he rolled then back. His statement’s tone was sure and steady, “Everybody talks father.”

Everybody talks... back

[calif0rnia-lovers]

Lover of Mine #5 | Angel Reyes

part I | part II | part II | part IV | series taglist

Title: A Heavy Heart to Carry

Thought that I would change, but I'm the same guy Blamed it on my youth, but I know I've had time

a/n: split this original part into 2. the second half of the couple's retreat will be in 5.5

warning: a character experiences a panic attack

rating: 💔

Sum: Angel Reyes doesn't fear much, but he's scared to face you once it's set in that he's broken your cardinal rule. He must decide what's more important: maintaining a lie or sharing a secret that will change the way you look at him forever.

Words: 9.4k

“Take him home, Ezekiel. Now. I’m serious. I am going to fucking kill him if he tries to stay here tonight. And then, I’m going to kill you for letting him.”

These are the words that stopped Angel Reyes in his tracks. Left him standing on the front steps, afraid to move past the threshold of the front door to his own house.

When he pulled into the driveway, exhausted covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat and blood, Angel was met with a sight that somehow managed to wring the knots in his stomach tighter.

The light from the living room cast a golden hue across the dark lawn.

He knew the odds of you being asleep upon his arrival were slim to none. You haven’t waited up for him in years. There’s no need to wait up when you know his whereabouts.

At some point in the evening, the attempts of communication stopped. Angel isn’t sure why, but he knows it isn’t a good sign.

He’d pushed against Ez’s shoulder prompting him to step up to ring the doorbell.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” Ez had shocked his older brother, stepping into the war zone to calmly produce some sort of explanation. “We had to go down south, and shit got--we lost track of time. By the time we got finished, we--”

“Now that I know that neither of you is lying dead in a ditch somewhere, you can leave.” Despite your words, Ez didn’t move. He glanced over his shoulder towards Angel. “Or stay outside, I don't care, but he's not stepping foot in my house. Tell him I said test me.”

Needless to say, he didn’t.

Angel heeded the warning allowing his brother to drive him home. He didn’t bother calling you.

What’s the point of calling to apologize when you’ve just spent half the night ignoring the calls from the same person?

Hours have passed, and Angel hasn’t slept.

Although he’s now freshly showered, the cut on his hand poorly wrapped, Angel Reyes finds himself in the same predicament. Outside of your house.

Scared shitless.

Only this time around, Ez isn’t willing to risk his life for the sake of being collateral damage.

Both men remain in the driveway, eyes on the sunflower yellow-painted door of 1101 Rock Creek Avenue. Each is resting against the hood of Angel’s car. Waiting, silently willing the other to bravely ring the doorbell.

Angel releases the smoke in his lungs before reaching up to remove his sunglasses.

“You gotta go in at some point,” Ez glances over at his brother.

Angel doesn’t respond. He drops his cigarette bud to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his shoe.

“Especially since we’ve been out here nearly an hour,” Ez continues, a tiny smile finding his lips as the sight of Angel’s rolling eyes. “Neighbors are probably gonna put in a call--”

“I’m checking the windows,” Angel responds. The humor in his voice falls flat as his eyes search the front of the house. “Gotta make sure she doesn’t shoot me the moment I touch the driveway.”

“Shouldn’t have taught her how to shoot.”

The daggered stare sent his way causes the youngest Reyes to chuckle. Shaking his head, Ez takes a step forward.

“Angel. It doesn’t matter if you go in now or later.” He sighs. “If Y/N's gonna shoot you, she's gonna shoot you-- regardless of the time.”

“Yeah.”

Getting up, Angel crosses the lawn to the front door. Although he now has a key, he reaches forward to ring the doorbell. For a brief second, he considers turning around and heading back to his car.

His stomach tightens as the door swings open. He lets out a sigh of relief when he’s met with the sight of a smiling Isabela.

Her smile slips, her eyes narrowing as she stepped outside. She waits until the door is shut securely behind her to speak.

“What the fuck, Reyes!” She shoves hard against Angel’s shoulder, not blinking as he stumbles a step back. Angel massages his shoulder as she lowers her voice. “I orchestrated the perfect week for you two. All you had to do was show up with a packed bag, and you somehow managed to fuck everything up. Where the hell were you last night?”

Although he’s had all night to come up with an excuse, no coherent words come out when Angel opens his mouth. Isabela’s eyes roll, her attention shifting to a quiet Ezekiel standing just beyond his brother’s shoulder.

“And you. I thought you were the smart one.”

Ez looks away from a flushed Angel to find Isabela’s glare on him. He opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly Angel’s inability to speak has washed over the youngest Reyes.

“You didn’t think it was smart to drag him home in time for his son's recital?”

Angel’s voice has returned. It comes out lower than he’s intended. His eyes briefly shift to the front door.

“She’s--”

“Pissed.” Isabela sighs as she turns to the door. “I’d thank Bishop next time you see him. He talked her down last night.”

Isabela pauses just as Angel steps forward to follow her inside.

“Angel, she lied to Jeyson for you,” she says. “You need to talk to him.”

“I know.”

“Hey, lego master,” Isabela smiles as she steps back inside. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Jeyson is on his stomach, lying in the center of the living room floor. Chin resting in his hands, he is studying the progress he’s made on his lego set.

A grin brightens his face as Angel steps inside. He scrambles to his feet, pulling a chuckle from his father as he nearly crashes into his legs.

“Hey, lil man. You good?”

Allowing him a quick hug, Jeyson takes Angel’s hand in his. He tugs him towards the living room. He motions towards the legos on the floor.

“I finished all the escape pods! Now, you can help me with the left-wing--”

“Hold up,” Angel diverts Jeyson’s attention, lifting him off the ground, forcing him to silence. “I wanna talk to you about something--”

“Last night?” His question silence his father. Jeyson reaches forward, his fingers tracing the patch on Angel’s chest. “Mom talked to me already.”

“Yeah, I know, but I wanted to apologize. To say I’m sorry for not being there to see you play.”

“It’s okay.” The smile he offers tightens Angel’s throat. It is a smile that matches his words perfectly. A smile of forgiveness often comes when a child is willing to look past moments of a letdown if that means they can still spend time with that person.

“It’s not okay,” Angel admits. He watches as Jeyson’s gaze lifts to meet his before dropping to patch. “I broke a promise, and I’m not supposed to do that. I’m sorry.”

Jeyson studies his father’s expression. A smile slowly spreads across his face as an idea sets in.

“I can play it for you now.” He suggests, his attention moving to the piano across the room.

That’s where you find the two when you step into the living room.

Jeyson has finished playing and is giggling as he watches Angel try to match the series of keys he just showed him.

“What’s so funny?” Angel’s brow arches as Jeyson attempts to stifle his laughter. “I think it sounded pretty good.”

Jeyson shakes his head.

“You weren’t paying attention.” Reaching over, he moves Angel’s hand into the correct placement. “Your fingers aren’t in the right place.”

Angel’s gaze falls to his hands. To him, they seem to be in nearly the exact same spot. But he knows better than to argue with your son. He watches Jeyson’s fingers, trying to match the same tune. Only he can’t, the smile on his face growing once he realizes the tempo has changed. Jeyson plays at a cadence that seems hyper speed to his father but is nothing out of the normal for him.

“It’s not nice to show off,” Angel chuckles as he tickles Jeyson’s side.

Angel glances over his shoulder, his smile dampening as he finds you waiting patiently by the door. Jeyson’s smile does the same, his eyes widening once your conversation from last night sets in.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes,” you nod, watching as he gets up, his head hanging forward as he crosses the room. “Remember we talked about this last night?”

Jeyson waits until he’s standing before you to speak. With his arms wrapped around your middle, face pressing against your shirt, his words come out muffled.

“But, I want to come with you.”

“I know, but you have to stay and keep Isabela company. You guys are going to the carnival tomorrow. You're going to have so much fun.” Your fingers brush through his hair, a smile finding your lips as Jeyson tips his head back to look at you. “Besides, I won’t be gone long.”

“Five days is a long time,” Jeyson pouts. “You’re never gone that long.”

He’s right. The longest you and Jeyson have been apart being two days. For the weekends when he would spend the majority of his time at his father’s house.

“You can call me whenever you want,” you remind him as you squat down in front of him. “And then, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tommy Flores currently stands at the front of the line. The weight of the metal door causes it to slam shut with a loud bang.

The echo vibrates through his chest, the force doubling him over. The dialed-up pitch brings Tommy’s hands to his ears.

He’s stopped in his tracks. His silent plea, to stop the ringing in his ears, sparks a slew of grunted protests from the inmates behind him.

Officer Rogers stands near Tommy, his shoulder resting against the wall. Each time an inmate is escorted through the secured door, the guard slams it shut with as much force as he can. He watched as Tommy flinched each time, the sound louder with each step he got closer. Now that Tommy stands directly in front of it, the sound is too loud.

Rogers steps forward, his lips turning up into a sneer.

"You alright there, Flores?" The lack of concern in his voice is amplified by the soft chuckle he releases. "You look like shit. Rough night?"

It's a question, Rogers knows the answer to. Better than anyone--well almost anyone.

He was the one who woke Tommy, in the middle of the night, the glare of his flashlight blinding the inmate. He yanked Tommy from bed, hand-delivering him to the showers. He stood guard, watching as Tommy took each blow and kick sent his way. He hand-delivered Tommy back to his cell, denying his trip to the infirmary.

Rogers would never admit it, but he was initially shocked when saw Tommy shuffle into the visitation line. He knew Tommy had a scheduled visit but didn't expect him to have the strength to bother trying to attend it.

"Your girlfriend coming today?" Rogers continues as he watches Tommy's fist clench. "Must be. That's the only reason I could think you'd get up this morning. Maybe I should let your friends give you another round tonight. How's that sound?"

Tommy's body is bumped forward—a silent warning from his cellmate to move. The shove to his shoulder clenches his jaw shut. But Tommy knows better than to hold up the line any longer than he already has.

Each step he takes is slow, sending a jolt of searing, white-hot pain down his spine.

The swelling of his right eye limits his vision, but he’s able to recognize a familiar face in the crowded room.

Each grey table is occupied by anxiously waiting loved ones. Tired from the extensive process of being cleared for visitation day. Hopeful their time won’t get cut short due to the delay of the inmate's arrival.

As he’s shuffled forward, Tommy’s gaze is fixated on his feet. It’s easier to ignore the look of pure rage directed his way.

“Stop staring.” The smile on Tommy’s lips is a good attempt. No matter how much he wills it, it can’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

Leonardo Flores's gaze slowly studies the man before him. He knows his younger brother better than anyone. The blue Stockton uniform covers most of the damage but judging by Tommy’s walk and shallow breathing, he’s nursing a broken rib.

Leo doesn’t speak until Tommy’s gaze lifts. “I’d ask how you’re holding up, but it seems you’re still getting settled.”

His observation prompts his brother to shrug. Tommy winces as he shifts to bring his hands to rest on the table.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Tommy smiles.

“I thought this lawyer you got was supposed to be good—"

“She is.” Tommy’s sigh goes unnoticed. “She's good.”

“If she’s so good, why the fuck are you in gen pop?” His brother’s eyes roll, Leo’s head shaking once he gets no response. “Huh? She doesn’t seem too concerned about doing her job. If she was you wouldn’t have been nearly beaten to a pulp—"

Leo’s rant slowly fades out, blending into the surrounding conversations. It takes all of his concentration for Tommy to drown out the sound. Tommy’s eyes are shut, his left hand massaging his brow. The throbbing in his head seems to be getting worse. He flinches as Leo’s boot scrapes his shin.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say, Leo.” Tommy laughs dryly, the throbbing in his head pumping irritation into his voice. “She could pay off the entire fucking city of Santo Padre, it’s not gonna mean shit.”

His eyes open to see Leo’s jaw clenched. He presses on as Leo opens his mouth to speak.

“They put me here because they’re hoping I don’t make it to trial.”

“Judging by how you look, you won’t.”

Tommy shakes his head, dismissing the observation.

“I’m fine. I need you to do something for me.”

An uneasy wave washes over him at the sight of Leo’s rolling eyes.

“What?” Leo chuckles, his arms crossing over his chest. “Your brothers can’t help you?”

“I don’t trust the club with this,” Tommy admits.

No matter the amount of truth behind his statement, Leo’s expression doesn’t change.

Probably because Leo knows the truth. With the number of years he’s facing, Tommy will soon be forgotten by his fellow Horsemen. You’re only worth remembering if you’re valuable to the M.C. Tommy’s not valuable rotting in Stockton. It doesn’t matter if the charges he’s acquired were at the expense of the club.

“Leo—"

Leo’s sigh drowns out the plea in Tommy’s voice.

“What is it this time, Tommy?”

Tommy doesn’t miss a beat. His voice drops, his eyes briefly passing to the guard nearby.

Angel forgot what it’s like to be on the receiving end of your silent treatment. It’s brutal. Probably because you stick to it, religiously. The silence isn’t the worst part. He knows you’ll have to talk to him—eventually. He also knows that once you do, the words you’ve prepared will cut him to the bone.

When it comes to arguments, Angel operates on pure emotion—always ready to fight a war. He says the first thing that comes to mind, often trying to hurt whoever he’s arguing with before they can hurt him. He wishes you were the same.

You have an incredible ability to walk away from an argument on a whim. He can count on his left hand the number of times you’ve raised your voice at him. In all the time he’s known you.

You don’t see the purpose in having a screaming match. It never gets you anywhere. One of you has to operate on the side of logic. Angel has learned that once you’ve had the chance to get your thoughts together he’s in for a world of trouble.

He’d foolishly tried to get the conversation going the moment you both got in the car, but you beat him to the punch.

“I’m not talking to you right now.”

The declaration had come out just as Angel opened his mouth to speak. It also made him close his mouth, his brow furrowing.

“We’re about to drive for four and a half hours, Y/N,” he sighed, his eyes rolling as he sticks the key in the ignition. “You’re really not gonna say anything to me the entire ride there?”

He waits for you to respond, his eyes dropping to the bouncing of your knee.

“And then what? You’re not going to go speak to me at the hotel? What sense does that ma--”

“Trust me, Angel. You do not want me to say what’s on my mind right now.”

Angel’s not certain if it’s the admission itself, or the look in your eyes, but he silently redirects his attention to starting the car.

The four-and-a-half-hour car ride ironically turns into a six-hour trip of stop-and-go traffic. Six hours of Angel left to fiddle through the various radio stations while you silently scroll through your iPad.

At the three-hour mark, your voice breaks the silence, peaking Angel’s hopes. At this point, he’s willing to take you yelling at him if that means you’ll eventually talk again.

He glances away from the bumper-to-bumper traffic to find you holding up your iPad. The screen facing him, you ask. “Have you seen this before?”

He leans over the console for a better look at the image on the screen. His stomach drops as he takes in the jet-black stallion, his mouth going dry as his gaze passes over the red eyes.

“Thinking about getting some new ink?” He jokes his throat clearing as your eyes roll.

“Nevermind.”

Redirecting your attention back to your iPad, you don’t catch the nervous glance Angel sends your way. A few minutes of silence pass before he glances back in your direction.

“What’s it for? The uh--tattoo.”

“Work.”

That’s all he’s able to get out of you. Even after you arrived at the hotel, where you discover that Isabela has booked the two of you for the hotel’s honeymoon suite. Which comes with a complimentary package that Angel is almost certain you won’t partake in. He gets nothing out of you when you are both informed that your introductory session with the couple therapist on sight is in less than an hour after your late arrival.

The counselor, Dr. Mallory, currently sits across from the two of you. The smile on her face remains in place, even as she watches you put as much distance as possible between you and Angel. The task is nearly impossible with the small sofa she’s sat you both on.

Angel's eyes roll to the ceiling before he lets out a deep breath.

Dr. Mallory’s question breaks the silence.

“How long have you two been married?”

Angel’s eyes shift to you. He answers as your gaze remains focused on the pillow in your lap. “We’re not.”

“Divorced?”

“Seven years.” A dry laugh escapes his lips as he softly shakes his head. “To do the date...actually.”

“Oh, I see.” Dr. Mallory’s smile widens as her gaze passes between the two of you. “You’ve decided to join our retreat, as a means of reconnecting. Hoping to bring back, and foster, that love that brought your two beautiful souls together all those years ago.”

“Uh...yeah.” Angel nods slowly as Dr. Mallory’s hand shifts to rest over her heart.

Her eyes close, her smile softening as she lets out a sigh.

“Love is such a beautiful thing,” her eyes open as she continues. “And I am so happy to see the two of you are willing to give it another try. But, more so, I am honored that you have elected me to help guide you through this journey.”

“What exactly does this ‘journey’ entail? We’re not about to go sit in the desert and sing kumbaya or some sh--”

The elbow that digs into Angel’s side swallows the rest of his sentence. He glances over at you.

“It’s a serious question,” he coughs. “I didn’t realize we signed up for some journey that has to do with...souls traveling together…”

Dr. Mallory’s eyes had brightened at Angel’s question. Angel’s words trail off as he realizes Dr. Mallory is no longer seated. She is not standing directly in front of both of you. Holding two orange sheets of paper.

“I have accumulated a list of activities that will allow the two of you to get in touch with your inner selves this week.” She beams, not noticing the uneasy look that washes over Angel’s face as she continues. “One cannot love their partner wholeheartedly until they truly love themselves.”

Angel’s eyes quickly scan the list, realizing that it's more than a list of suggestions. It's a checklist.

“This week, the two of you will work on opening the airs of communication,” Dr. Mallory continues, motioning between the two of you. “Which I can sense are bogged down at the moment, by anger and mistrust. We want to take the time to open them back up--”

“No offense, Doc, but this isn’t going to work.”

“Mr. Reyes, I ask that you don’t speak that way this week. Everything that you put into your relationship can work.”

“It’ll be hard to work on our…” It takes all Angel has not to roll his eyes. “...airs of communication when she’s not even speaking to me.”

Dr. Mallory returns to her seat, her attention focusing on you.

“Angel is right. Ms. Reyes, care to share what’s on your mind with him? He seems eager to listen.”

Angel watches silently as you keep your gaze on the sheet of paper before you.

“Last night was the first night that I have wanted to kill you. And I mean it in the most literal sense, Angel.”

Angel’s throat tightens, his gaze dropping to his hands.

“You’ve done a lot of shit, Angel. But last night you didn’t see your son’s face when he realized that you were not showing up. You promised that you would never do that again.”

Angel attempts to swallow the lump in his throat. He shifts in his seat, his gaze briefly looking towards you.

“I know.”

“I had to get a call from the school telling me that you decided not to pick our son up. You could have picked up the phone, and called me.” The calmness in your voice does nothing to ease the knots in Angel’s stomach. “Since you’ve forgotten, Angel. You don’t get the courtesy of falling off the face of the earth. Club business, or not. You have a son.”

Angel doesn’t offer up a response. Primarily because he knows what’s coming next.

“What could possibly have happened that you disappeared off the face of the earth last night--and don’t say club business. Bishop is not that great of a liar.”

Angel swallows, his eyes briefly drifting across the room to where Dr. Mallory sits.

He can feel your expectant gaze on him, but he can’t bring himself to look at you.

He can also feel it rising in his throat. Words he hadn’t planned on telling you. His eyes drift shut as he sighs.

“I uh...I followed Samuel to this bar downtown.” A silence falls over the room. Angel looks up from his hands, watching as your eyes widen. “Aiden, he told me what he did to you--and I just wanted to talk to him.”

“And that’s all you did?” The look of skepticism sent his way causes Angel’s jaw to tighten.

“Yeah. I told him to leave you alone.”

Dr. Mallory interrupts the silence, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Samuel? Who is he?”

“Nobody.”

Angel’s eyes roll. “He’s her boss.”

“I went on a few dates with him,” you sigh. Your fingers massage your temple.

You already know where this conversation is going.

A smile finds Dr. Mallory’s face as she watches Angel shake his head.

“No, this is great.” An encouraging smile finds her face. “You see, you two are already past the most difficult part. Starting the conversation. Angel, tell Y/N how you feel about this situation involving Samuel.”

“You shouldn't have dated other people.”

Your brow furrows as his statement sinks in. “Did you miss the part where we got divorced?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying? Do you know how many women I had to hear that you slept with? Half of the time from you!” The sight of Angel’s rolling eyes is enough to make you shift in your seat. Turning to face him, you watch his jaw clench. “So you can fuck anyone you want, but it’s a problem when I go out on a date with someone?”

“Yeah.”

You blink, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. Clearly, you’ve heard him wrong.

“Do you know how hard it is watching you fall in love with someone else?”

“Oh my goodness!” Your voice comes out muffled against the palms of your hands. “What is it with you and Samuel putting more stock in this situation than it deserves? I wasn’t falling in love with him, Angel--”

“But that’s what you were looking for?” He cuts you off, the raising of his voice causing your hands to drop. “Why else do people date? Yeah, I slept around, but you never had to worry about me trying to replace you with someone else. For years, I’ve had to watch you go through relationships, bringing other men around my son like you were auditioning them for the role of his father--”

“You know I wouldn’t do that--”

“Yeah, well, we all do things we don’t think we’re capable of.”

“Well, Dr. Mallory. Congratulations. You have just witnessed the one thing Angel Reyes is always capable of doing.” You shove the pillow in your lap towards Angel. “Trying to make me feel guilty for something that he’s done. This time, I’m not apologizing to you for anything. And I’m not saying 'thank you' if that’s what this whole woe is me act is about. I didn’t ask you to go see Samuel. Just like I didn’t ask you to sit here and lie to my face.”

“I’m not lying to you--”

“You may have gone to see Samuel, but that’s not where you were last night. I know you, Angel. You didn’t skip out on our son for Samuel.” It’s an observation that gets the response you’re looking for. It’s a look that lasts for only a brief second. A look in Angel's eyes that tells you that you’re right. It disappears as quickly as it had come. “And until you’re willing to stop lying to me, I’m not staying here.”

Angel’s jaw sets. “Since we’re talking about capabilities, her specialty is walking out. She walked out on me seven years ago, and she’s doing it now.”

“Maybe this time, you'll actually stop and ask yourself why,” you mumble as you step over his feet.

Ez is sitting on the living room sofa. He’s not in the most comfortable position but hasn’t been able to move for the last hour. He’s drinking a beer, his eyes on the television playing quietly across the room.

He’s not even sure what show he’s watching. A series Isabela had roped him into. The room is pitch dark--apart from the glow of the screen--the house quiet. Jeyson has been asleep since his 9 pm bedtime.

Despite her need to catch up on her favorite tv show, Isabela is also asleep. With her head resting against Ez’s shoulder, her body curled up against his, Isabela has been asleep for the last hour. If asked, she’ll blame it on Ez. The second he allowed her to share the blanket with him, his body heat acted as a furnace. One that pulled her right to sleep.

Ez is currently debating on the best way to transfer her from the living to the bed when his phone lights up.

He knows who is calling before he checks the caller I.D.

Angel has been texting Ez non-stop.

Angel’s voice comes out low through the receiver. “If I don’t call you back tomorrow it’s because she’s stabbed me in my sleep.”

“You better take the couch tonight then.” Ez brow furrows, wincing as he double-checks the time on his brightly lit screen. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the bathroom.” Angel quickly dismisses his brother’s question. “Listen, it wouldn’t make a difference. Trust me. She hasn’t been talking to me--except for when she ripped me a new one in therapy today--”

“Therapy...hope you tipped the doc.” Ez chuckles. “Having a witness might have saved your life.”

“...she knows about Samuel.”

Ez releases a sigh, his hand running down his face. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

“I had to tell her,” Angel mumbles. “It's not like I could tell her about last night. I figured…”

“Give her something else to be mad about?” Ez shakes his head, sparing his brother the laugh. “Angel--”

“I’m working on it.” Angel’s side goes quiet for a moment. His admission is an admission of truth. He has been thinking about it for the last twenty-four hours. “I'm gonna tell her, I just need the right moment...besides, don’t rush me. She’s gonna be mad at you too when she finds out you helped.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I always end up in your shit.”

“That’s what brothers are for,” Angel chuckles. “Remember what I said. If I don’t answer tomorrow--”

“Bye, Angel.”

Hanging up, Ez pushes his phone aside.

He carefully lifts the blanket covering him and Isabela. He successfully carries her down the hallway to the bedroom and has finished tucking her in when she stirs.

She watches as he removes one of the extra pillows from the bed before taking a step towards the door.

“I know it might be extremely difficult for you to stay on your side of the bed,” she yawns, rubbing at her eyes. “But I’m willing to share it with you, as long as you let me take the left.”

A smile spreads across Ez’s face as he watches her pat space next to her. He lifts the pillow in his hand. “Bed’s all yours tonight. I’m gonna take the couch.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he chuckles. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

“Okay,” Isabela’s eyes are already drifting shut as she yawns. “Well, just know the offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Besides, I gotta at least take you out on a date before we start fighting over sides of the bed.”

“Give me the time and place, and I'll be there,” she giggles, her face nuzzling against her pillow. “Just know I’m a tough negotiator.”

Since when has knocking become so difficult?

It is the question you ask yourself as you stand outside the bathroom door. You quickly knock before you can change your mind.

“Yeah?”

“Um--are you decent?”

Your eyes grip shut as you let your own words sink in.

Are you decent?

The bathroom door opens to reveal a freshly showered Angel. He stands on one side of the double sink. His phone is in one hand, a towel in the other. He wears just a pair of briefs, his hair still dripping from the shower.

“What are you doing? You’ve been in here forever.”

“I've been done for a minute,” he responds, his eyes glued to his iPhone. “Didn’t know you were waiting on me.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t go to sleep until I brush my teeth.”

“You could’ve just come in.”

“You were taking a shower.” Your response is automatic.

It is also the same thing that has kept you waiting patiently on the bed for the past thirty minutes.

“You’ve seen me naked before, querida.”

He glances away from his phone to find you still hovering in the doorway. Toothbrush in hand. Your weight shifts as his eyes linger on the black satin sleepshirt you wear. His gaze returns to his phone once he realizes he’s still staring.

“You can enter since apparently, you need the invitation,” he responds, a smile finding his lips. He doesn’t need to see your face to know your eyes are rolling.

Angel may be silent as you start your nighttime skin routine, but he’s panicking inside. Panicking might not be the right word. Paranoia has begun to set in.

From the moment he and Ez made it stateside Friday night, the realization of his actions began to set in. The realization that he has somehow managed to tie himself to Tommy Flores for the second time. The note he'd shoved into his pocket was now in the trash back in Santo Padre. The message, however, was seared in his mind.

Always get insurance.

You were right to ask what Angel has been doing for the last thirty minutes. He’s been searching for information on Tommy. From the moment he started the search, Angel realized this was a terrible mistake.

Now that you’re standing next to him, the cut on his hand seems to throb. He glances down at the bandage. It’s bled through and needs to be removed.

You’re brushing your teeth when you glance up to the mirror before you. You pause, watching Angel's reflection as he studies his right hand. Strangely, it’s the first time you’ve noticed the bandage.

You wait until you’ve rinsed your mouth to face him.

“What happened to your hand?”

Instinctively, Angel moves his hand out of sight. He drops it to his side.

“Nothing,” he responds, suddenly focused on toweling his damp hair.

“It was bleeding?” You reach around him, ignoring his silent protest.

Angel knows there’s no point in fighting you on it. He turns to face you, allowing you to get a better look at his hand. Unwrapping it, you feel him flinch as the cool air hits the open cut. He drops the towel to the floor, resting back against the sink as your brow furrows.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Before he can respond, you’re already out of sight.

Angel stays where he is, waiting patiently for over five minutes. His brow rises when you return, a black bag in your hand. It is one he’s known you to carry for as long as he can remember. He always teases you for carrying the first aid kit, but always seems to need you to use it on him.

A tiny smile finds his lips as he watches you sit the bag on the sink. “You packed this in your suitcase.”

“No,” your eyes roll as you reach forward to cut on the water. “I keep it in the trunk. Let me see your hand.”

Offering it, Angel watches your expressions as you take the time to study the cut. Whatever questions are on your mind, you don’t share them with him. You don’t say anything else. You silently clean and wrap the cut.

“Thanks.”

The kiss he presses against your cheek halts the washing of your hands. He doesn’t linger to leave a second. He picks up his phone before leaving you alone.

When Angel wakes, he finds you quietly moving around the suite. Cell Phone in hand, one shoe in the other.

“You’re leaving me?”

His question causes you to jump.

“Yeah,” You release a sigh as you turn to find him watching you from his makeshift bed. “I was hoping you’d sleep through my getaway.”

Sitting up, Angel glances over as you take a seat alongside him. He silently watches as you slip on your shoe, his eyes passing over your leggings and sports bra.

“Where are you going?”

“Yoga. Figured you wouldn’t want to come. It’s not really your thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s a couples class…”

He doesn’t add anything to his previous statement. Instead, he stands.

“So, you’re coming?” You ask, watching as he pauses to stretch.

“Yeah, it’s just yoga.” He yawns. "Besides, Dr. Mallory said we gotta do things to nurture our souls."

You’re not sure if Angel tagged along to make a point or because he honestly thought it would be easy.

At the moment, you’re concentrating on keeping your breathing controlled and steady. Your eyes are closed, the only blinders you have for the man on the mat alongside yours.

Although you can no longer see him, you know Angel is in the same state as before.

Struggling.

The hushed “shit” he releases, as he wobbles, brings a tiny smile to your lips.

Angel’s eyes shift from the instructor, who is slowly making her way around the room, towards you. He readjusts his posture, trying his best to mirror your stance. But it seems no matter what he does, it doesn’t look like yours.

He wipes at the sweat on his brow. “I thought we were starting with the easy stuff.”

“This is a beginner’s pose,” you note. Your eyes open, a giggle escaping your lips once you take in the look of skepticism on his face.

“You sure?” Angel watches as you effortlessly move into the next pose. He releases a huff, his neck rolling before he tries to follow your lead. “Seems like you signed us up for the advanced class. Just so you could torture me.”

“I didn’t even know you were coming.”

Angel knows your statement is one of pure truth, but that doesn’t stop him from chuckling, “feels like a setup.”

“You know you can always do the modifications,” you nod towards the front of the room. “It’s easier.”

Angel follows your gaze to where an elderly couple is demonstrating the modified version of the pose.

“Easier?” Angel scoffs. “I don’t need easier, I’m doing pretty good--”

He speaks too soon. His weight tips forward, the sight causing your concentration to break. Before he can fall, you catch his left hand pulling him upright.

Angel blinks. His widened eyes move to meet your gaze. A sheepish grin finds his lips as your grip remains tight around his hand.

You eye his less than steady stance. “Are you okay?”

Angel nods. The grin on his face begins to morph. The sight of his smirk causes you to drop his hand.

“Shit, for a second, I thought you were mad enough to let me faceplant.”

“Shut up,” your eyes roll as you redirect your attention back to the instructor. “I just have good reflexes.”

Halfway through the class, Angel gives up trying to follow along. He spends the remainder of class distracting you. When he’s successful in making you smile, he complies with your request “Angel, please focus. You’re going to get us kicked out.”

He settles back into participating. He sticks solely to the modifications. When the class ends, he manages a few steps before collapsing on your mat.

He rests his head on your lap, preventing you from standing. His eyes drift shut as he lets out a deep breath.

“Angel, get up.”

“I can’t,” he sighs. His right-hand rests over his heart, the dramatic change in his breathing causing you to shake your head. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Your eyes roll as he remains where he is. Head resting against your lap, eyes closed, a tiny smile on his lips. It grows into a familiar grin as the warmth of your fingers brushes against his skin.

Your touch lightly brushes through his hair. You watch his eyes open to meet yours.

“I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing,” he chuckles.

“I’m relaxed,” you smile, your touch drifting to his jaw. “You’re not relaxed.”

“Now I am. It’s what you owe me, after that hour of torture.”

“You get an A for trying.”

He smiles falters as he watches you let out a deep breath. The smile on your face is gone, the sight letting him know his plan hasn't worked.

"Can you get up now?" You ask as your eyes follow the couples filing out.

A red 1964 Chevy Impala turns onto Rock Creek Avenue for the second time this Sunday morning. Windows rolled down, music playing low, it comes to a stop alongside the light blue fire hydrant marking the end of the street. Although its idling engine has been cut, the gear shift in park, its driver remains inside.

Dressed in a worn leather jacket, too hot for the already humid morning air, Leo releases the smoke in his lungs. He had committed the address to memory when Tommy had whispered it to him the morning before.

He stops to double-check the home’s number as he returns his cigarette to his lips.

1101 Rock Creek Avenue.

The house itself is nothing special. Apart from the sunflower yellow-painted door, it is nearly identical to the other single-story homes which line the street. A street that is strangely quiet for the hour.

The impala’s dash clock reads 11:35.

Leo leans across the console tugging the latch from the glovebox. Shifting the Ruger, which lays inside, he retrieves the folded newspaper. He pauses long enough to close the glovebox before settling back against his seat.

He stays that way, finishing off his slowly dwindling cigarette, scribbling on the paper in his hand.

The Saturday edition of the Daily Imperial Gazette has a newly noted license plate number written in its top-left corner. The crossword puzzle for the day, ninety percent complete.

Focused on the black and white squares before him, Leo lets out a breath.

An eleven-letter word for satisfaction?

“...vindication…” he mumbles, scribbling the answer into the boxes. His gaze shifts to the watch on his wrist.

12:01.

A shift in his peripheral causes Leo to direct his attention elsewhere.

The sunflower yellow door opens, a woman stepping out. She has a black BB-8 backpack slung over her left shoulder, the eye of the orange and white droid catching a glint of sunlight. Her long dark curls are pulled into a high ponytail. She wears a purple tie-dye sundress and white platform sneakers. She turns back to the door, smiling at the man who steps out after her.

Although Leo has never met Angel, he knows this is not him. The prospect patch stitched across the back of Ez’s kutte, the indicator he needs.

“I can’t wait to see you have some actual fun,” Isabela giggles as Ez stops before her.

Ez’s brow furrows, the corner of his lips turning up slightly, as he meets her playful gaze.

“You make it sound like I’m boring.”

“Uh-uh, don’t put that on me. I did not say boring, you did.” Isabela’s nose scrunches in concentration. Her smile widens as she settles on a more fitting word to describe the man before her. “You’re always so...serious.”

“Serious…” Ez echoes. He watches as Isabela bites her lip, suddenly wondering if her word choice was taken on the offense. As she opens her mouth to add an explanation, Ez shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m just saying, I think I’ve seen you crack a smile maybe once since you’ve been here,” Isabela adds. “You don’t laugh at any of my jokes--”

“Maybe they’re not funny.” Ez glances up from the sunglasses in his hands. He watches Isabela’s hand find her chest, her mouth falling open in disbelief. “Besides, I didn't realize you were trying to impress me.”

For once, in their time together, Ez is able to render Isabela speechless. The smile that brightens his features, causes Isabela’s eyes to roll as she steps around him.

“Wait, can we go back a second? Did Ezekiel Reyes actually crack a joke?”

“I do it from time to time.”

“Well, you should do it more often because you have a cute smile, Zeke,” she teases. “Can’t blame a girl from wanting to see it more often.”

Ez fails at stopping the smile on his lips from morphing into a grin as he slips his sunglasses over his eyes.

Isabela takes a step back inside. “Jeyson Iván Reyes! Let’s go!”

With Isabela no longer before him, Ez’s gaze passes over the street coming to a stop on the red Chevy Impala. Aside from being illegally parked, the car would catch the attention of any passerby. It’s not every day that one sees a vintage car, in pristine condition, riding through the streets of Santo Padre.

He steps forward, giving the car a closer look. But he looks away once he gets the look at the driver’s seat. A man focused solely on flipping through a copy of the Daily Imperial Gazette.

Leo lowers the newspaper slightly. His focus moves past an unsuspecting Ez to the little boy who bolts out the front door.

In his Lakers jersey, Jeyson Reyes is nearly a blur of purple and gold. His laughter drifts down the street as his uncle catches and lifts him into the air.

“Someone’s excited,” Isabela giggles as Ez lowers Jeyson back to his feet.

“I wanna try the bumper cars!” The grin on Jeyson’s face is wide. His entire body radiates with anticipation as he impatiently watches his uncle lock the door. “And the ride that spins you around really really fast so that you’re dizzy—and the mini golf!”

“Yeah?” Isabela’s fingers brush through Jeyson’s curls. Her playful eyes drift to Ez, the smile on her face grows as Jeyson follows her gaze. “I think you and I can beat Ez over here. What do you say, J?”

Ez’s brow arches, his eyes briefly meeting hers before moving to Jeyson’s.

“We can beat him. Easy.” The confidence in Jeyson’s voice is almost enough to break his uncle’s facade.

Ez’s eyes study both pairs of brown eyes focused on him, his head shaking softly.

“I don’t know,” he winces as he steps towards the car. “What are you willing to bet on it, J?”

For a moment, Jeyson is silent. An endless amount of possibilities rush through the eight-year-old’s mind. His round eyes widen as he settles on an answer.

“Funnel cake.”

“Good choice.” Ez squats down before Jeyson. He offers him his hand, pulling it back slightly once Jeyson reaches for it. His gaze lifts to Isabela, his resolve finally cracking, a smile slipping through. “You two can’t back out when I win.”

Folding the newspaper, Leo tosses it into the passenger seat as he watches the truck back out of the driveway. As the truck rolls to a halt, before the stop sign at the end of the street, the engine of the 1964 Chevy Impala rumbles to life.

“When can we go on the Ferris Wheel?” Jeyson groans, the impatient whine in his voice causes his uncle to smile.

“In a minute.” Ez ruffles Jeyson’s hair before reaching into his kutte for his vibrating phone. “We gotta wait for Isabela.”

“Where is she?” Jeyson pouts. Standing on his toes, he releases a huff once he doesn’t see her. “She’s been gone forever!”

In reality, it’s only been five minutes. But five minutes can seem like a lifetime to a kid waiting anxiously to continue his exploration of the carnival.

Two hours in, and Ez has learned that Jeyson doesn’t tire easily.

“I thought you wanted ice cream?” Ez chuckles, glancing over to watch Jeyson shake his head.

“Not anymore,” Jeyson sighs. “I want to go on the Ferris Wheel.”

“We will the second Isabela gets back. Okay?”

Despite the pout on his lips, Jeyson nods as he meets his uncle's gaze.

The text that holds Ez attention is from you. It is a question that has been on your mind for the past few days.

Zeke, need that brain of yours. PLEASE tell me you know of a club with a stallion patch?

Ez’s brow furrows as he reads over the message. He types the first thought that pops into his mind. Followed quickly by the second.

Horsemen.

Don’t know much about them. Prospect...limited information. Gotta ask Angel about that stuff. He was at the table Friday.

He glances up from his phone at the burst of laughter coming from a passing group of teenage girls. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he takes it forward once he realizes that the insistent voice of Jeyson is no longer there.

“Jeyson?” Ez’s brow furrows as his gaze passes over those closest to him.

He has no sight of Jeyson, his stomach dropping as he takes another step forward.

The second time he calls Jeyson’s name his voice is louder, a slight tremble slipping in.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, the carnival is packed. The Ferris Wheel is on the last round of its current cycle. This has ushered in a shift in the crowd. People are rushing to make it to the line, excited for a seat on the upcoming cycle.

“Jeyson?”

The cheers and music drown out Ez’s voice. Between the bodies pressing against him and the breath that seems harder to pass than the previous, Ez can't quite remember the way he’s just turned from.

The tightness in his chest causes him to stumble forward. The thought of finding Jeyson slips away with each painful squeeze of his heart. It becomes painfully loud, drowning out the same cheers and music that had blanketed his voice mere seconds before. He can’t focus. His mind is useless, unable to bridge the disconnect to the rest of his body.

No matter how hard he tries to get air, Ez chokes on each breath he takes. No amount of air that he swallows can be caught by his lungs. He is left breathless, his feet blindly searching for a break in the crowd. His vision is blurred, the images blurring as his focus scrambles.

Through the crowd, he catches sight of a disfigured BB-8 backpack.

“Thank you! Have a great day.” Isabela’s smile widens as she accepts the two ice cream cones from the vendor. She drops the change into the tip jar, carefully sidestepping the couple running past her.

She stops to take a lick of her ice cream, her eyes scanning the crowd. She starts to move forward, in the direction of the designated meet-up point. A tall green pole, that houses a baby blue flag at its top.

Through the break in the crowd, she catches sight of Ez’s kutte. Her steps slow once she realizes he’s bent over, the cones she holds slipping through her fingers.

Ez can’t hear his name on her lips, but he can feel the heat of her shaking hands as they cup his face. Her body shifts with his, as Ez’s back presses against the pole. His lightheadedness dragging his body to the ground.

Despite the trembling of her hands, Isabela’s voice is calm as she lowers herself to her knees before him.

“Ez--hey, look at me. I need you to breathe. Okay?” The softness of her voice lifts Ez’s gaze from his trembling hands. A smile finds her lips, the sight forcing him to take a breath. “Good. Here.”

Taking his left hand in his, Isabela gives it a gentle squeeze before moving to place it over her heart.

“It’s okay, you and I can do it together.” Isabela takes a deep steady breath, Ez’s hand rising and falling with the motion.

It takes a second breath for him to follow suit. The harsh intake of breath comes in slightly smoother than before. His right-hand finds her waist, his eyes drifting shut as he tries to push out another breath.

The grip on her hip is painfully tight, but Isabela remains in place. Resting her forehead against his, she continues to breathe, her fingers gently brush against his cheek. With each passing second, her heart slowly anchors his forcing it to match the steady rhythm beating against his palm.

“Shit--” Ez’s voice comes out hoarse, shaky as he opens his eyes. “I’m sorry--”

His body tips back. Isabela’s weight pressed against him as her arms wrap around his neck. The hug she gives is tight, causing Ez to blink.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I uh--I’m sorry--I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Ez.” Isabela shakes her head, pulling back to get a look at Ez’s face.

The look of concern on her face drops Ez’s gaze to his hands. The slight tremble that remains causes him to clench his fist together.

He attempts to swallow the lump in his throat, but it remains. His voice comes out thick, as he shakes his head slightly.

“I haven’t had one of those in years,” he speaks quietly. “The first year in Stockton…”

Isabela nods, not needing him to finish the thought. Instead, she wraps her arms back around him. This time, Ez returns the hug, his face resting against the warmth of her neck briefly.

It’s not until she has him steady and on his feet that Isabela lets out a deep breath.

She looks around when a realization sets in.

“Where’s Jeyson?” The look on Ez’s face causes her to take a step sideways.

As she turns around, she stumbles forward nearly tripping over a grinning Jeyson.

“Oh my god--” Isabela lets out a deep breath, her hand finding her forehead as her eyes drift shut. “Jeyson, where did you go?”

Jeyson’s words come out muffled as he attempts to speak through a mouthful of hot dough.

“We went to get a funnel cake.”

“What?” Isabela’s eyes open.

Jeyson stands with a large plated funnel cake in hand. He wears a grin.

“You can have some,” he offers as Isabela brushes at the powered sugar dusting his cheek.

She blinks. “You don’t ever walk off without me or Ez. You don’t go with strangers, you know that--”

“He wasn’t a stranger.” Jeyson glances up from the piece of funnel cake in his hand. “He was daddy’s friend. He knew my name. He said it was a gift for doing good at my recital.”

His brown eyes widen as he takes in the look of confusion on Isabela’s face.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks. The possibility causes Jeyson’s smile to falter.

“No,” Isabela shakes her head, wrapping him in a hug. “You scared me, that’s all.”

You can learn a lot about a person from their home. Leo discovers all he needs about you the moment he enters yours.

Your son is the center of your universe.

Leo stands in your living room, his eyes passing over the incomplete Millennium Falcon set in the middle of the floor. Overstepping the abandoned legos, he moves closer for a better look at the photos hanging on the wall.

Jeyson is in nearly every photo. Spanning from baby photos, holiday shots, candid moments of fun, to yearbook photos, they allow Jeyson to grow up before Leo’s eyes.

He pauses at the latest hung photo.

Taken in September, it shows Jeyson standing between you and his father. The smile he wears matches Angel’s to the tee. It was taken on the first day of third grade. Jeyson is wearing his Gilman Prep uniform.

Leo lifts his phone, delaying long enough to snap a photo before moving on.

He starts his trek through the house. Sifting through recently delivered mail, abandoned on the kitchen counter. The piano holding the sheet music for Jeyson's recently passed recital. Studying the neatly printed schedule written across the whiteboard on the refrigerator door. The fully stocked bookshelf in Jeyson’s bedroom. The password-protected laptop on the desk of your office. The gun safe in your bedroom closet.

As he returns the closet door to its original position, his eyes pass over the room. They land on the dresser. The wooden, hand-carved jewelry box is smaller than he would anticipate from a woman. The first item to catch his attention is the oval cut diamond of your engagement ring, paired with the matching wedding band. He lifts both, pausing to study them in the sunlight peeking through the bedroom window. Returning them to their original resting place, he lifts the tiny velvet red box nearby. Inside, he finds a pearl necklace.

The necklace itself is simple. A single pearl embellished with a small, round white stone. It is a necklace you rarely take off. It was gifted to you years ago at a high school graduation dinner by Marisol.

Closing the box, Leo pockets it before leaving. The only sign he was ever there is the unlocked front door. It gives Ez a brief moment of a pause upon his return. He’s almost certain he locked it when they left. But with the high-speed rate Jeyson is talking at the moment, he chalks it up to his mind spacing.

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