#can someone explain to me what those straps they put on their sleeves are for

[zumazozuma]

BEHOLD my newest contributions to this community ✨

[imawreck]

Carnival

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Bucky and Snow experience a carnival date.

Warnings: Just more fluff because it’s gonna get rough a few chapters from now, but of chaotic behavior

Word Count: 2,763

Snow-

I hadn't ever seen something like this in all my years on this earth.

Dim lights decorated an entire courtyard and massive machines rushed around with people on them. Some screamed in joy, some in terror, and children ran around with large multicolored clouds on sticks while laughing. Adults wandered in pairs, some in groups, and laughed as they talked with each other. Everyone looked happy and it warmed me.

Truth be told, I had never gotten the chance to divulge in these types of things. I had watched from the sidelines as if their world was a little globe I had to watch from beyond a glass wall. It felt so different being among them, dressed up, with someone to share the joy.

Bucky's arm radiated warmth from where it was looped with mine as he led me farther into the carnival. He smelled of leather and woody undertones from his cologne, familiar and comforting. I could tell he had put in effort to his appearance tonight too. His hair wasn't its normal level of unruliness, and his stubble looked angular and clean. "You trimmed your hair."

His blue eyes danced over me, "I did, I figured I needed it."

"You look very handsome Bucky, with or without a trim." My direct compliment seemed to startle him some as I watched his eyes widen and a red hue crawl his neck. I gave his arm a squeeze and steered us in the direction of some small tents set up along the fence. "What are these?"

He nodded with his hands shoved into his pockets, "These are just little rigged games you can play to try to win prizes."

I quirked a brow at him. "Rigged? Win prizes?"

He chuckled, "See, sometimes they'll rig the games to where no matter how hard you try, you can't win them. If you could, you would get to pick out one of those." He nodded once more towards some stuffed animals hanging from the sides of the tent and suspended on strings from the roof.

I marvelled at them, "We should try and beat them even if they're rigged."

Bucky shook his head, "I don't know about that Snow..."

I tugged at his arm, "Come on, you got the passes for everything here, right? We don't have to pay anything else, we might as well use it to our advantage." I stared into his bright hesitant eyes, "I think we can beat them."

His shoulders rose and fell in a defeated sigh, "Alright, we can try it."

I hollered in excitement, tugging on his leather sleeve. "Lets go! I want to do the ring toss first."

He obliged, smiling the whole way. We greeted the man behind the booth and he handed us the rings after a quick glance at the orange bands strapped around our wrists. Little glass bottles sat in a close triangle, barely any room to fit the tiny hoop around the lip of the bottles. I began to realize what Bucky had meant by rigged.

The man stood off to the side and smiled politely at us both as he explained the goal as he held out two small hoops. "Just gotta get one of your hoops around that there bottle with the red rim. Then you can pick any of these little prizes right here. Y'only get a prize if you get one around that red one in the middle."

I nodded, glancing up at Bucky who had adopted a look of concentration even though he didn't hold any hoops. He was skeptical on how it was possible aside from pure luck, I could tell by the doubt on his face. I bumped him with my hip, smirking at him as I bent down just a little to ready myself.

I felt a the cool breeze brush the back of my thighs where the dress had ridden up a little in the back with my movement and caught Bucky moving behind me out of the corner of my eye. He shot a sharp look over his shoulder as he angled himself to block anything from showing though I was certain it wasn't, I hadn't bent down that far. Such a gentleman.

I chuckled at him as I eyed the small glass rim, pulling my ring back and breathing out. I held my breath, measuring my strength and the distance, and softly released the small green hoop.

It glided through the air smoothly, spinning once before pinking right around the red rimmed glass. Both men gawked at my accomplishment as I stood back up, spinning around to face Bucky behind me and rocking up on my tippy toes. "I told you we could beat them!"

He looked down at me through his dark lashes, a small smirk climbing up his face as he took the last ring I had from between my fingers. His grip brushed mine and a shiver followed the patch of skin he had touched. I shied away from his eyes, suddenly aware of how close we were standing and stepped out of the way for him to try.

Bucky planted his feet similarly to how I had stood moments before and tugged at the base of his glove before he pulled his arm back. I could see his muscles contract even through the thick leather of his sleeve. I pulled my eyes away, not wanting the attendant to see me ogling my date.

Bucky took one last minute to analyze his move before tossing his hoop through the air. It hit the tip of the red bottle, teetering on it for a millisecond before falling off to the side onto the ground. Bucky huffed, shaking his head in disappointment. I gave him two quick pats on his shoulder, "No worries, you can show me up in a game of Ducky Pond." I pointed over to what looked like a kiddy pool swarming with small plastic yellow ducks. A look of determination flashed across Bucky's face as he nodded once, taking my hand in his.

The attendant at the ring toss spoke up, "Miss, you get to pick a prize."

I had nearly forgotten. I took a glance at the items hanging from the ceiling, then at the ones on the wall. There wasn't anything that caught my particular interest.

Right as I was about to deny a prize, a small child ran up to the counter beside me with her eyes alight with joy and excitement. "Mister sir, how can I get that pink ducky?" The girls voice was shrill but oddly polite for her age.

The attendant smiled grimly, "You'll have to toss this here ring onto that red bottle."

The child pondered at it for a moment, obviously noting the near impossibility of the feat. A woman, presumably the girls mother, took quick steps from the crowd behind us. "Penny, what did I tell you about running off without me? Let's get some cotton candy okay?"

I watched their interaction in wonder. The girl pointed with a small chubby finger at the pink duck that hung from a string. "Mommy, the man right there said I could win that ducky if I got a ring on a bottle. Can we please try?"

The attendant gave me an uncomfortable smile, obviously confused on how this situation would fall out. The woman gazed at the game for a moment before making a face of irritation, quickly smoothing it over with an apologetic smile towards her daughter. "I don't think so Penny, this game is very hard and we don't have enough to pay for the ticket."

The girl's lip popped out and wobbled at her mothers' words. The look of sheer disappointment and heartbreak on the small child's face tugged at my heart as I turned towards the attendant. "I'd like the pink duck for this girl please."

I could feel Bucky's eyes on me as soon as I spoke, watching as the attendant tugged the duck from it's string and handed it to me. I took it gratefully, careful not to let my dress ride up as I set on my knees in front of the girl. "Here you go, I'm sure she would be much happier with you to take care of her."

The little girl grinned from ear to ear, throwing her small arms around my neck and bouncing up and down. "Thank you, thank you, thank you miss!"

I laughed, wrapping an arm around her to return the hug and handing the fluffy duck to her. She spun it around and ran circles around her mother who smiled appreciatively at me.

Bucky's hand came to rest on my shoulder, looking at me with smiling eyes. "That was really nice of you."

I shrugged, taking his hand he offered to tug me from the ground. "I can't stand it when kids cry, tugs the heartstrings.”

He nodded, not taking his eyes off me as his hand slipped back into mine. "Ducky Pond?"

I shot him an arrogant look, "Oh yeah, you ready to lose?"

_____

Bucky was terrible at ducky pond. "How are you doing this? It's impossible!"

I cackled from my spot on one of the two round stools the booth attendant had provided us when she realized we meant to play a while. It wasn't an issue with her due to the difficulty of the game and the lack of participants.

I watched Bucky as he gripped the tiny plastic fishing rod, glaring daggers into the thin hook dangling from the end of the thread. Beside him, one duck sat in a bright blue bowl right there next to the purple one spilling over with a dozen.

The purple was obviously not Bucky's. "You just gotta get the hook through the little loop Buck, it's not that hard."

He scowled at me as I plucked another duck from the pond, checking for a pink sticker on the bottom. There wasn't one so I tossed it onto the pile. Bucky swatted my pole with his when I went for the next duck, "Hey!"

"You have too many, leave some for me." He sniffed, tossing his hook back down into the almost empty pool.

I scoffed, delicately picking up the duck he had smacked me away from. A hot pink dot caught my eye and I shouted, wagging it in front of him. "I got it!"

The attendant clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at the look of muted rage Bucky gave the duck in my hand. I handed it over to her, grinning from ear to ear at my accomplishment. "You can choose from this case right here. Since you play so well, I'll give you one of the nicer ones."

Inside the case she had pointed to was rows of small little charms with cheap chains attached to them. I brushed past my brooding date besides me and leaned over the case to get a better look.

Almost immediately, my eyes were drawn to the solid metal snowflake resting at the bottom row. It was barely the size of my pinky nail attached to a small clasp. I pursed my lips to fight the smile that rose to my face a the thought of the nickname Tony had given me. "I'd like that one, please." I tapped the side of the glass to show her which one when she went to pull it out.

I felt the warmth of Bucky's hand press against my back and I couldn't help the shiver that danced over my skin.

The attendant handed it to me in a small plastic bag, "It's stainless steel so it shouldn't tarnish. You have a good time with your boyfriend, miss." I felt my face heat up at the mention of Bucky being my boyfriend but nodded, giving her a warm smile.

Bucky kept his hand on my back as we walked away from the booth. He eyed the small bag I clutched in my hands. "What did you pick out?"

I glanced up at him, "I got something for you, actually." I turned to him, stepping out to the side to avoid the crowds of people.

He stood in front of me, blocking everything else from view with his broad shoulders and towering frame. Bucky's blue eyes looked at me in wonder, "What is it?"

I eyed his collar, checking to see if I had indeed seen his dog tags dangling beneath his shirt earlier this evening. Sure enough, the worn chain peaked out from behind his white button up. Meeting his eyes again, I asked quietly, "Can I see your dog tags?" I knew what I was asking was more than the words themselves. Those were Bucky's personal items, and personal items to a soldier who didn't have much was like asking for his eye.

Bucky's blue eyes blazed with hesitance but he nodded slowly, reaching around his neck and lifting the chain over his head. He dangled them in front of me and released them into my outstretched palm. I closed my fingers around them while I rummaged through the small paper bag until the cold metal brushed my fingertips. I pulled it out, opening the clasp and snapping it around the chain between the two tags. When I had made sure it was secure, I lifted the chain up and over Bucky's head.

"I figured you could use a reminder," he lifted his hand to brush against the addition as I explained to him, "of who is the best at Ducky Pond."

A bark of laughter left him as he rubbed the charm between his fingers, looking at me with something I couldn't place. "Thank you Snow, I won't forget."

I couldn't pull my eyes away from him, "I have something else for you." But I shied away from his curious eyes at my confession. "I can't tell you now, it's too crowded here. When we get back to the compound."

Bucky nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Okay Doll, I'll wait."

There it was again, that nickname. My insides felt like a thousand butterflies were fluttering around inside of me.

Just as I was about to comment on it, someone moved just beyond a tent a few yards away from where we stood. All black clothes, jean jacket, wire in the ear with a vaguely familiar face. I swallowed hard, taking a hold of Bucky's forearm and leaning into him as if I were going to kiss his cheek. I heard his breath hitch, his chest pause, and I spoke in his ear. "Someone is watching us. Blue tent, ten o'clock. Jean jacket with a wire."

His eyes followed mine, flickering over the faces until he caught sight of the man I had mentioned. The man was hardly passing as a civilian, at least in my eyes, with his combat boots and completely black outfit. He looked like he was trying so hard his effort canceled out.

Bucky's shoulders relaxed as he let out a breath. "Don't worry, just one of Tony's men. After the information we got in the interview, he was pretty upset I had asked you out. Hell, I surprised myself by asking you. He let us come out here because he figured that you could handle it if something happened but he sent out backup just in case. Wanted us to enjoy our date." Bucky's eyes dropped from mine as he finished the last sentence with a bashful expression.

I let myself relax with one final glance in the man's direction. We made eye contact, his beady black eyes boring into mine as a smile drew onto his face. He nodded once and turned away, walking back behind the tent.

Although something didn't quite set right about the man, I let it slide, figuring I was just paranoid after this week's events.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Should we try out a rollercoaster?"

I frowned, "What's a rollercoaster?"

A smirk tugged at his lips as he held out his arm, "Only the best adrenaline rush out there. Let's try the Bullet. It's fast and does a loop in the middle. You'll love it."

I stared at one of the large structures on the other side of the fairgrounds. "I don't know Bucky..."

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" He teased me, poking me in the ribs.

"No I'm not afraid of heights! It's just new." I huffed, tugging my coat further over my shoulders.

His smirk grew, "Then prove it."

And that's exactly what I did.

Tags<3

@cjand10 / @blackbirdwitch22 / @imdoingathingmom

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Rainbow Tag

I was ghost-tagged in @little-peril-stories tag, which you can find here. I feel inclined to do this one, because... when I started with Lies, I attempted to write 6 chapters, each with a title for one of the colors of the rainbow.

Unfortunately, overwriting struck again, and I ended up with 8 chapters instead, so I added teal and pink, which is why I am now using them for this tag. All of those are from their respective chapters as well!

Red

One last quick look at the street outside, and Laurent turned around. Out of the doorway stepped a woman clad in a short black dress. The skirt barely reached her knees, the sleeves wrapped around her upper arms in thin straps, and a soft dark red corset accentuated what didn’t need accentuating. Her long black hair was braided in four braids and pulled into a knot, leaving her neck and collar bones on display. Laurent swallowed.  “Erm. Hello! I’m looking for candy.”

Orange

“I marked the sections. I know everything I put here is red, and there orange. Of course, once I start moving them around and putting them together, I need to pay attention to what I am doing.” “Isn’t it impractical then to invite someone to look over your shoulder and distract you?” Aurelia took care not to turn into his direction. “I’m not that easily distracted,” she said.

Yellow

Her fingers slid over rolls of ribbons, looking for the marks that told her which color they were. She cut pieces of orange and yellow off and tied them around the bottle in a pretty bow. “That’s for you,” she said, holding it in his direction. Laurent’s footsteps approached, his fingertips brushing hers as he reached for the bottle. He took his time taking it, and she took her time letting go.

Green

“That first day you came in here,” she started while placing green apple candies into a small bag made of thin paper. “You said you were quite preoccupied. Have your worries eased a little?” “They’re… yeah. I think it’ll work out all right. I talked to a friend much wiser than me, and he told me not to worry so much.”  “I need to get myself one of those,” Aurelia muttered. 

Teal

“And what is that?” he asked. Aurelia counted to three in her mind. “You’ll need to be more specific, sir.” “Glass bottles filled with some green slug. Looks nasty.” Nasty. How rude. “That’s tealberry syrup,” she explained. “Tealberry, huh?” He snorted. “Shouldn’t that be purple?” That was not what teal… Aurelia took a measured breath. “I wouldn’t know. Sir.”

Blue

Exhausted as she was, Aurelia fell asleep quickly and didn’t wake up until the sun had already risen. Feeling refreshed and much less annoyed, she hummed as she changed her bedsheets and got dressed. Wearing her favorite black dress, she went into the kitchen to boil some water and was greeted by the smell of blueberry muffins.  Shit.

Purple

Finally, Cedric grinned again. “You can have the ladies all to yourself. Speaking of.” He reached under the counter and pulled a bundle wrapped in purple cloth out. On the counter, he unwrapped it, revealing two cylinders made of solid bronze. “You said the machine had the name Mills engraved, right?”

Pink

A new song began, slower than the last one. Laurent’s hands moved to her back again, and hers onto his shoulders. All the other people had long faded into the background. There was only the music and him, her heart floating on a cloud of pink cotton candy. “You know.” His forehead touched hers. “There’s one thing I still haven’t tasted.”

[deathon1leg]

we all know by now that blue represents mike and yellow represents will but... i’m also a FIRM believer that red represents el. (and this is a good thing for byler!)

here’s why.

⚠️spoilers ahead for all of st but mostly s4⚠️

this is gonna be a long one, so, strap in. i promise i’ll make it worth your time!!

also, i’m sure someone’s talked about this at least a little already so i’m sorry if i end up reiterating someone else’s point!

i’m gonna be focusing mainly on season 4, but i wanna start by saying stranger things has always heavily utilized primary colors, aka blue, red, and yellow, for characters’ clothing, set design, lighting, and promotion. now, this doesn’t necessarily have to mean anything but things add up when we get further into it.

here are just a few examples:

in the poster, clothing, and even the background lights in the s3 mall pic, primary colors are the main ones used.

so... what’s with the colors?

if you’re here you probably know fellow delusional bylers have made wonderful analysis posts about the strategic use of yellow and blue to represent will and mike, and i’ll add some links if i can find them, but to summarize: will is most seen wearing yellow, mike is most seen wearing blue, and they often wear each other’s colors in elements of their outfits. here’s a couple examples from season 4:

anyway, these are obviously two out of three of the primary colors that stranger things loves to use so much, and mike and will could be considered two out of three of the main characters.

the third primary color is red.

the third main character is el.

i know this sounds like a reach, but hear me out, okay?

eleven is often seen wearing red. it’s hard to say if it’s to the extent that mike and will wear their own colors because of all the time she’s spent in her hospital gown or the sensory deprivation suit, but it’s definitely prominent. mike and will’s outfits also often have red in them, just as el’s outfits often have blue and yellow.

she usually doesn’t wear a LOT of red, it’s almost always an accenting color to the rest of the outfit. i’ll explain what i think the reason for this is later, and more on why i think it’s her color. this is just me establishing this notion so we can get into it.

what does the use of each color in their outfits mean?

mike, will, and el’s clothes often include each other’s colors, be it a whole shirt or a few stripes, as you can see in some of the pictures above.

from what i’ve gathered the use of each color indicates how much the wearer is thinking about the character it represents, or how important the character currently is to the wearer. this includes when they’re wearing their own color.

i think el beginning to wear more red than she used to signifies her becoming more of her own person, which could also be why she still doesn’t wear that much of it—her life since escaping the lab has been all about saving the world and obsessing over her boyfriend, she hasn’t had time to fully realize who she is as a person.

that, and the idea that the the colors they’re wearing correlate to who they’re thinking about/who’s important to them helps put the s4 ending scene in better context.

i believe (at least in this scene) that white symbolizes neutrality, as in either no specific person at all or maybe every person as a whole. i included her white sensory deprivation tank outfit because i think it encapsulates neutrality, because being in one of those makes it feel like you’re sort of floating in nothingness.

her outfit in the last scene of s4 is almost completely white with a little bit of pink on the bottom of her sleeves and the flowers in her shirt, and an even smaller amount of yellow and green as a part of the flowers. mike’s confession and max’s near-death might’ve caused her numbness and/or confusion, explaining the neutrality. pink is just a lighter version of red (or red + white) showing that her sense of self is still there, but dimming. then there’s yellow for will, and green for will + mike. there’s no blue at all—she’s probably just done with mike’s shit.

even though i’m focusing on clothes i should point out that all around her in the field are yellow, red, and blue flowers. from some camera angles yellow flowers are the majority which could be hinting at will becoming the main character again in s5. all of the flowers are dying as the upside down takes over their world, and the sky flashes with red lightning. el picks up a dead flower and you can’t tell at that point what color it was, but it might’ve been yellow based on the others in the bunch, which... i’m not actually sure what that means.

the dying flowers look a whole lot like the ones mike brought her in the airport and they’re even the same colors, suggesting a m*leven breakup.

the previous “person they’re thinking about” theory also goes for set design and lighting, but in terms of clothes, here are some of what are imo the most concrete examples of this in s4

in the top left, will’s waiting for mike to arrive at the airport and he’s SO excited to see him and give him his painting. his shirt is all blue, because his head is completely full of mike.

in the top middle, mike is having a serious argument with el but he doesn’t really care about it. he’s mostly thinking about himself hence the blue shirt, and thinking a little bit about will, hence the thin yellow stripes.

in the top right, el’s shirt is blue and the flannel over it has blue and red stripes, but the base of the flannel... is green. green = blue + yellow. to be fair, the brightness on that picture is significantly turned up and in the original it mostly looks blue, but there is undeniably green in there, especially in other pics. she wore this during her and mike’s fight and while being arrested when mike was telling her that he would fix everything. i don’t think she believed him. i think the green is her beginning to get suspicious.

in the middle, will is emotionally supporting el during her presentation and comforting her when she gets bullied, so his shirt is mostly red stripes. it’s very hard to see here but there are super thin lines of blue, yellow, and green between the red ones.

in the bottom left, el’s dress has big blue, red, purple, and green stripes with scribbles of yellow on most of them. once again green = blue + yellow, but the ones on her dress are leaning more toward blue. then of course, purple = blue + red, mike and el. the stripes on her flannel are blue with yellow on the edges. she’s excited to see her boyfriend for the first time in a while, and will’s tagging along, so she’s thinking about all of them, including herself, and her and mike as a couple.

in the bottom middle, mike’s hat is mostly blue and orange. orange = red + yellow, so he’s thinking about el and will at the same time, and blue means he’s thinking about himself. there’s also some blue-ish green and a few small red circles for el. he wears this when he first arrives in cali, showing that his mind is pretty much split on will and el even though he gives el all his attention.

lastly, in the bottom right is another shot of mike’s cali outfit with his t-shirt being blue and his over-shirt being yellow. this illustrates even further that he’s thinking a lot about will even when seeing his gf for the first time in ages and focusing on her! even his glasses chain is yellow! mike wheeler i know what you are.

so. that was long. but we’re not done yet.

does each character’s color have a deeper meaning?

honestly, yes, i think so.

i’m not some color theory (or film theory) expert and even the small bits i’ve gathered could be wrong, but here’s what i think:

will’s yellow represents the sun

mike’s blue represents the sky

el’s red represents the upside down

let me elaborate.

i’m mostly gonna go in depth for my thoughts on el to support my “red” theory, but i’ll start with will and mike.

the sun and the sky go hand-in-hand, you can’t have one without the other... kinda like two boys we know. they’re also (at least to me) the most obvious blue and yellow “duo”s i can think of, and there’s lots of symbolism of them that fits mike and will as a duo.

i can’t think of a lot of examples for this off the top of my head, but notice the pictures of will being hit with direct sunlight while mike’s in the shadows beside him. also a picture of el during her fight with mike in nearly the same spot as the pic of will next to it, but no sunshine is on her. this could be meant to show us how mike views will vs how he views her.

mike is the vast, never-ending sky and will is the giant, warming star that lights him up.

okay, now for el. this one’s important.

el opened the first ever gate to the upside down—this is one of the most crucial plot points in the entire show, let alone for just her character. el sent 001 to the upside down and he created his own area of it to keep his victims in. el bleeds out of her nose when she uses her powers, and out of her eyes and ears if she overworks herself.

in general, she has a connection to the upside down and vecna different from any other person in the show.

all of these things are red.

are you convinced yet?

what do their colors mean in relation to each other?

as i just mentioned, will and mike represent the sun and the sky, some of the most basic symbols for the universe and the earth out there. the sun and the sky are worldly, natural, supposed to be there.

here’s where things look up for byler.

i wanna preface this by saying i absolutely LOVE eleven. she’s always been one of my favorite characters, and i’ve been watching since the beginning. i’m not trying to say she’s unnatural or not meant to be with the rest of the group, hell no. this is just my interpretation of what the show has given us and what it could be for the future of mike, will, and el.

el’s red represents the upside down, which is quite literally the opposite of worldly, a dreadful mirror of the natural universe. this isn’t to say el’s from the upside down because she’s not, she just happens to be connected to it not of her own volition, and opened a portal to it without knowing what she was doing.

this blatantly separates her from will and mike. their motifs are embodiments of the universe and go together effortlessly, while el’s motif is, well, basically the anti-universe. sorry el. love u.

but, is there any other significance behind the use of primary colors besides them being the “main” colors and these three being the main characters?

well...

i don’t know about you but this looks awfully like a triangle to me.

it’s love triangle symbolism, everyone. pack your things, we’re going home.

besides the obvious that there’s nothing going on between el and will because they’re siblings... there’s a clear love triangle between the three of them regarding el dating mike while will has a crush on him, and the fact that mike will inevitably have to choose who he wants to be with if they continue the storyline they’re on.

they’ve given us some pretty blatant imagery of this in s4. will is in the middle or on the sidelines of basically every m*leven scene this season (and they want us to root for him!)

additional primary color imagery

there’s a few more things i want to point out.

had anyone else noticed they’ve shown us three different versions of the upside down with three different colors?

i’m gonna be real and say i have no idea what this could mean. i’ll leave that up to you. what i do know is that the top one, the yellow upside down, is the untouched version of it before vecna altered it. the middle blue one is the current version of the upside down, BUT it does have lots of flashes of red lightning. the bottom red one is... honestly i don’t even know, but vecna takes his victims there.

one more thing i noticed before i go:

this season 4 poster that uses the three primary colors and... green.

we all remember that green = blue + yellow, so.

this could very well just be a graphic design choice, because green is usually what’s added to the other three if another color is needed, but... who knows.

in conclusion, we already knew that mike and will are blue and yellow, but i’m also positive that el is red.

byler endgame is in our sights!!!

if you read this entire thing, first of all, wow. second, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! i hope you found this interesting :)

[kittyt-hexxed]

Hexed (Vi/POC!Reader) - Ch.25

Last Chapter Upload Date: April 10th

Act 3: Chapter Twenty-Five - It’s Just Business

Warnings: Choking, thigh grinding, teasing, hints of sadism/masochism, use of the word “Pet” Strap-on sex, Pet/Mistress dynamic, Hard Dom!Renata (Short sex scene at the end of Renata’s piece. Starts when Renata says “I bow to no one.” And ends at the ***)

Summary: It’s time for the final pieces of the puzzle to be put into place. Duty calls as you visit the Chem-Baroness to strike a deal, and there’s only one way to seal it. You find Sevika passed out in The Last Drop, and realize that your plans all fell into place.

The last official chapter will be posted on Sunday, April 10th!!! There is a bonus chapter (27) that will be posted Wednesday, April 13th! Thank you for everyone who has read Hexed! Please make sure to read the closing note next week!

For once, your hair fell over your shoulders in solid ivory ringlets. No other color is in sight to distract people from realizing that it’s pure white. You were loitering outside of the Silver Pearl with the black card in your hand. You had dressed in the small private bedroom Babette had for each of her workers. You kept most of your work outfits in there except for the more valuable ones. You are wearing a pair of skintight leather pants with a long-sleeve crop top that shows a healthy amount of underboob. You threw on a ripped-up jacket over it that allowed you to hide some weapons away inside of it as a precaution.

You hum to yourself as someone with a respirator walks toward you. He’s wearing a suit and seems to be a little nervous as he stops hesitantly in front of you. You hold out the card, letting him inspect it before he nods and beckons you along. A smile crosses your red lips as you walk close to him. His gun is visibly strapped to his hip with the Baroness’ crest on it. The other roaming citizens don’t even glance your way, too used to seeing this sight. It’s the visitors from other cities that crane their heads to catch an eyeful.

“Wow, look at that poor girl! She has to sell her body to make money.” You hear an obnoxiously familiar voice. You glare ahead as your retriever glances at you. ‘Mavis is still alive after all of these years? What a miserable reality this is.’

“Keep walking.” You say to him, “Once she realizes who I am, she’ll get corrected quickly. Sex workers are cherished here. She just likes to stir up shit.” He nods to you. You’re silent the rest of the way to the descender station. As you step into it, you playfully bump your retriever, “You don’t have to be so tense. Are you new? You’re not one of my regular retrievers. What’d Zach do this time?”

“...He messed up something important the Baroness told him to take care of. So, he's been… permanently removed from her services.” Your retriever says as you ascend to the surface street.

“Ah, how unfortunate for him to meet his expiration date. It seemed like he had some promise, but a woman like the Baroness can’t afford any failures.” You say cheerily and watch as the young man flinches, “Am I to know your name? Since you’ll be the one retrieving me.” You throw your arm over his shoulder and get close to his face, studying his features for any tells.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, ma’am. The Baroness-” His face turns pink as his eyes dart down to your chest.

“-refuses to have her underlings associate with those beneath them.” You cut him off with an exaggerated pout, “I get it. I get it. I’m not worthy of her!” You whine.

“What? No! The Baroness doesn’t want people to know my name until she knows that I’m worth keeping within her services.” He hurriedly explains to you. You laugh and walk backwards so you can see his facial expressions more clearly, “I’m well aware of the Baroness’ reason, newbie.” You tease him, “Congratulations, you passed your first test.” You wink at him. You watch as his eyes go wide in shock. He stutters for a moment before clearing his throat.

“My first test?” He blinks owlishly at you.

“If you were to be over-eager and tell me your name, even though you were told not to… That means you don’t believe the Baroness has a good reason for the rule. It shows that you don’t respect her. I’ve been the Baroness’ courtesan for over a year. I’m well aware of her mannerisms.” You grin. The guards at the gate bow to you as you walk in. You nod to them in greeting and observe the mansion in front of you. It was the finest one in all of Zaun compared to the Chem-Barons’ poor imitations. This mansion was nothing compared to the ones in Piltover but that was to be expected. The Baroness prided herself on her roots while stuffing Piltover’s money in her extremely deep pockets. Your retriever knocks on the mahogany door and it’s opened to reveal a familiar face.

“Good afternoon, Miss Lady.” The Head Maid greets you.

“Good afternoon, Gloria. May I enter?” You greet her happily, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Has your retriever introduced himself?” Gloria questions as she lets you enter the building. Your retriever goes exceptionally pale at the question and gives you a panicked look. You chuckle and shake your head, “He has not. I was informed that the Baroness has her reasons.” You slyly smile at her. Another maid gives you a white bundle of clothes that you take with a smile. Gloria appraises the young man who retrieved you and nods her head once.

“Excellent. You may go now. You are no longer needed.” Gloria waves him off and turns to you, “Get changed. I’m told the Baroness has questions for you today. Don’t keep her waiting.” She says curtly.

You hum in response and head into the bathroom to change. The slip dress you were handed is completely white but your shoes were a vivid magenta. No panties as per usual. The Baroness’ signature colors. She always had something new for you to wear when you came to visit. Your street clothes were to be cleaned and folded while you spent some one-on-one time with her. She was an immaculate woman and required that you were too when in her presence.

You stride out of the bathroom, your heels clicking against the tiled floors, as Gloria gives you a once-over. She smiles at you and you notice that your retriever is still standing next to her. His mouth drops open when his eyes land on you, “Holy shit.” He breathes out. You raise an eyebrow at him as Gloria whacks him on the head. She glares at him and you can sense an impending lecture. ‘I am not sticking around for that. I have extremely important matters to attend to.’

“I know my way. You don’t need to escort me, Gloria. Good luck, little golden retriever!” You call as you start down the hallway. You hear Gloria stutter out a response but you’re walking too fast for her words to reach you. ‘Are you ready for this, Hexxit?’ You huff and resist the urge to cross your arms.

‘Are you doubting me right now?’

‘Child, this woman is immovable. I wanted to wish you good luck. You seem as though you might need it in this instance.’ You stop in front of the looming double doors and take a deep breath. ‘Thank you, Umbra. I appreciate it. Truthfully, I’m doubting myself too.’ You raise your hand and knock on the door firmly. There’s a few seconds of silence before you’re called to enter the room. With one last breath, you swing the doors open with a seductive smile. ‘Here we go. Piece one of the three.’

Your eyes immediately find the towering form of the Baroness leaning over her desk with a pen in hand. You shut the doors behind you without turning your back to her. She lazily raises her head and lets her eyes leisurely glide over your form. Renata is a huge woman. Not just muscular wise but she was the tallest female Zaunite at six feet without her heels. You suspect she may be taller than that but you aren’t sure and you're not stupid enough to take a measuring tape to her. Sometimes you wonder just how tall she’d be if she was born in a healthy environment. You patiently wait for her to address you.

Renata places her pen down and leans back in her chair, “Your hair is lacking its usual colors… and you have new tattoos.” Her voice sends excited shivers down your spine. You loved it. It was a voice you could listen to all day.

“I was… encouraged to embrace my normal hair color. It is not to your liking, Ms.Glasc? I thought white was a color you adored.” You giggle as you saunter over to her. She lets out a chuckle and pushes back from her desk. Her tie is hanging loosely and her button-up is opened enough to show off a hint of cleavage. Her hands grip your waist as you lean against the desk. She liked to have you in her grasp at all times. You knew she was not submissively inclined in any way. Renata Glasc was a dominant woman in every aspect of her life and preferred it that way.

“You are correct, pet. It is my House color, after all.” Renata nods her head, “I’m curious about where you got it done. Did you do it yourself? Markee refused to dye anyone’s hair completely white for the past nine years.” She raises her eyebrow. There’s a knowing look in her eyes that has you getting a bit more nervous. ‘Ah, the conversation I’ve been waiting for.’ You give her a sweet smile and caress her metal arm with your hand. Renata watches you in silence, her eyes tracking your every move. If you weren’t used to them, you’d feel very unnerved right now.

“I’m sure you know the reason for that refusal.” You hold out your right hand, “Y/n. The girl who died six years ago in an explosion near the docks.” You keep your hand extended while holding her gaze. Renata removes her metal hand from your waist to shake yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as she smirks and her magenta eyes practically glow.

“I’m aware, pet.” Renata chuckles, “I know all about you.” Renata moves the papers on her desk aside and lifts up a file with your name on it. You take it from her and flip through all of the information she has inside of it. ‘Wow. It’s almost a complete history. She even has a few pieces of information like my favorite drink from Lily’s. She’s only missing my involvement with the Firelights, which only they know about.’

“Then, you’re aware of how tightly of a grasp I have on the Undercity. Silco is unaware of this, of course. He wouldn’t know a real threat until it punched him in the face… but, this isn’t about him. He doesn’t have much time left to live anymore.” You smirk wickedly, “This is between us.”

“I am aware of your little fan club. Get to the point, pet.” Renata remarks in amusement, making you pout. ‘I can never get a one-up on this woman. That’s just not fair!’ You whine.

“I know what you’re planning. Your goal is the Sun Gates, and then the rest of the world.” You pick up her pen and roll it between your fingers, “Your parents were murdered for what they were researching by Piltover’s greedy bastards. You even lost your arm in the fire while trying to save them, but the only thing you managed to save was their research. Since then you’ve dedicated your life to be more than what you were in your childhood. Recently, you developed a drug that can essentially control people’s minds and is able to do much more. You prefer respect over fear because respect gets you further, and that arm of yours is a deadly weapon.” You giggle gleefully. ‘If things go sideways, killing her wouldn’t help. Many Zaunites deeply respect her and she has been making lives better. I don’t want to have to kill her.’

“Impressive, pet.” Renata jerks you forward and you stumble onto her lap, “I haven’t told anyone the full story. I should make you my employee with that intellect of yours.”

“With all due respect, I couldn’t work under you. You’re quite a cruel boss.” You smile teasingly.

“I do not tolerate failure.” Renata says sternly, “Now, what do you want from me, pet?” Her thigh rises to press against your core as she pulls you down. Your breathing hitches but you clear your throat, “You’ve got a very skilled mind. You run in extraordinarily high circles in Piltover that the rest of us can only dream of-!” You gasp as she drags your hips forward. Her eyes glitter in amusement as a light blush appears on your face. “How do you feel about joining me and going to war with Piltover?” You lean close to her. Renata clicks her tongue and grinds her thigh against you. That action has you whining, gently gripping her shirt as your body flushes with heat. Her arm wraps around you as her metal hand caresses your throat. ‘One wrong move and she can tear out my neck.’ Excitement rushes through you and you take a deep breath. Renata has always been one of your favorite clients. She never requested sex from you but teased you relentlessly while she worked. You would ask her every visit, but she always said she was too busy to play with her precious pet. No matter what you did or said, Renata never took the bait. This woman was unpredictable and if you didn’t play your cards right, you would be walking out of here without a deal and maybe even a disappointing mess to clean up.

“...I would kill anyone who asked me to join them.” Renata’s eyes bore into your soul. She had yet to stop grinding her thigh against you, and you were struggling to keep quiet. “...I admit, I am partial towards you, pet. As if I’m the one being hypnotized.” Renata’s other hand glides up your thigh, pushing the dress up, and stops at your hip. You swallow hard, a small groan leaving your lips as she stops moving her leg. You felt like you were on fire and trying to hide that fact was killing you. But, you refuse to show weakness, keeping your eyes locked together. ‘She’s aware of how difficult it is for me to keep this up. She’s enjoying this.’ You giggle. ‘Such a sadist.’

“...I will fight alongside you for the war, but we will renegotiate once it’s over. I will not give up my goals so easily.” Renata says with a strong conviction.

“Deal!” You immediately exclaim in elation, “I assume you won’t request sex from me today?” You hum happily. ‘Yes! Yes! I know she has ulterior motives but I don’t care.’ Renata chuckles in a way that makes you uneasy.

“Oh, pet. You can’t ask me to make a deal and expect to give me nothing out of it.” Renata purrs, “How else are we going to seal it?” Your eyes widen slightly and you lick your lips. You shiver in anticipation as you find yourself intrigued with what this woman could do.

“I have a feeling you’re not submissively inclined.” You say as her metal hand rests against your neck.

“I bow to no one.” Comes her simple answer. ‘I figured as much.’

“Then…” You lean up to her ear, “How do you want me, ma’am?” You purr and teasingly nibble her ear. A hiss leaves your lips as Renata yanks your head back by your snowy roots. Her grip on your hair is tight and leaves no room for movement. ‘I am nowhere near having control here.’ Your throat is exposed as the tips of her metal fingers brush over it.

“Turn around and bend over my desk.” Renata growls. Her tone warns you that listening would be in your best interest. You wait for her to release your hair before you whirl around and do what she said. The position she has you in is unmistakably submissive. It makes you shudder being this exposed to her when she could dispose of you easily. It also made you incredibly horny.

The only warning you got was the soft clink of her belt and a deep chuckle. The dress is pushed up by her hand and the anticipation makes you tense. You feel the strap press into you before it easily slips inside. You were so wet that there wasn’t any resistance from your body. You let out a low moan as Renata grips your hips and thrusts into you. From the first one, you knew she wouldn’t be gentle and you were right.

Every thrust was painfully pleasurable. The head of the strap practically kissed your cervix, forcing the air from your lungs after you managed to recover. Her metal hand wraps around your throat and tilts your head back ever so slightly. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the desk for something to brace yourself with.

You couldn’t tell what the dizziness was being caused by. Was it the lack of oxygen from her hand around your throat, the bruising thrusts that jolted your body, or the fact that anyone passing by her office would hear the wet sound of your cunt and your submissive moans? Regardless of what it was, it made you feel delirious as you shouted her name. Your orgasm came quickly due to her steady rhythm and your legs shook from the strength of it. You breathe heavily, eagerly sucking air into your aching lungs as she pulls away. An intense ache pulses from between your legs and you can hear the smirk in Renata’s voice, “I hope that seals our agreement.” You can’t help the laugh that slips from your lips.

                                                       ~

Every step you took was a little shaky but not as bad as when you first tried to walk. You were not let down by Renata’s skills and you couldn’t shake the bubbly mood it put you in. The Baroness had told you to take the outfit you were wearing so it was folded away into your bag. You had been gone for longer than you planned so you rifted back into the Undercity. Your next stop was to find Sevika, who would be kicking back in The Last Drop at this time. Silco’s goons hung out in the place when it was closed for some private relaxation and Sevika was always wiping the floor with those who challenged her, be that in card or drinking games.

Yet, you could tell something was off as you approached the main street and saw all of the lights shut off. The lights in Zaun were never off unless they were broken, shattered, and smashed to smithereens. You could feel the crackle of magic in the air as you got closer to The Last Drop. ‘Are those… chemtanks?’ Your eyes narrow as you get closer. ‘Those are chemtanks.’ Their faces are smashed in and pools of shimmer surround them. You crouch down to get a closer look but can’t piece together who might’ve done this. ‘Whoever did this must’ve used a weapon. The impact area is way too large to be a fist.’ You giggle. ‘Silco is gonna be so maaaad!’ With a hum, you open the doors of the bar. You look around in surprise at all of the destruction. The bar had been dented, tables and chairs ruined, even the pool table was hacked to pieces. There’s a pool of shimmer on the floor and you follow the trail to the side.

A gasp leaves your lips at the sight of Sevika’s unconscious and battered body. Your heart nearly dropped out of your chest. ‘Please don’t be dead!’ You rush over to her, wincing from the pain between your legs, and press your fingers into her neck. A relieved sigh escapes from you as you carefully pick her up. Her metal arm had been completely ripped off. ‘The only person who would be this aggressive is Violet, especially to Sevika. Damn, if I got here sooner I would’ve been in the middle of that fight.’ You carry the unconscious woman upstairs and into the main office. You set her down on the couch and grab some tools. You remove what’s left of her arm from its port and put it on the desk.

You hum to yourself as you inspect her injuries. ‘A couple of broken ribs seem to be the worst of it.’ You dig out a vial of healing potion and carefully pour it down her throat. You take a step back and count to thirty seconds before Sevika snaps awake. She lets out a low hiss and raises her hand to her head.

“The potion healed your ribs so it’ll take a second for your headache to fade.” You pat her shoulder, “Sooo, Vi did a number on you, huh?” You tease her, a shit-eating grin devouring your face. Sevika gives you the most irritated glare she can muster. You grin cheekily at her as a memory pops into your mind.

You were sitting at the poker table while Sevika plays with some of her gang members. You had some cards in your hand since they were teaching you how to play. Ekko was downstairs with Powder and Vi was behind the bar with Vander. It was tense as you were getting down to the wire. With a click of your tongue, you all show your hands.

“The fuck?!” One of the guys curse, “How’d Y/n win this?!” You blink before giving a shit-eating grin. You grabbed the money from the center as everyone groaned. Sevika glares at you, “You’re too smart for your own damn good.” You give her an innocent smile.

“The bitch got lucky.” Sevika grunts after drinking some water.

“How so?” You tilt your head.

“She had a new weapon. Hextech. Some kind of posh-looking gauntlets. It even had a shield or something.” Sevika grumbles moodily. She gazes at you and raises an eyebrow, “What happened to you? You seem off.”

“Off?” You giggle, “I had a business deal with the Baroness.” You say coyly. Sevika’s face clearly shows her disbelief. You chuckle and start snooping through Silco’s things. You’ve never been in this office before but it looks the way you imagined it would. You hum pausing at his very expensive taste in cigars. You take one out of the box and snap it in two, dropping it into the waste bin. ‘It’s the little things.’ You grin gleefully.

“The Baroness? Renata? Why would you make a deal with her? Are you insane?” Sevika spits out. ‘Awwe, Vika’s worried about me!’ You coo.

“I’m aware of her real reputation. I made a deal with her because Zaun is going to war.” You say casually and look at her, “I’ve got the city on my side. I just need the last few pieces of the puzzle. Renata was one, you’re another, and Silco is the final piece.” You hop onto the desk. Papers scatter and fall to the floor as you do.

“Me?” Sevika scoffs, “What do you want with me?”

“You’re very well respected by many people in Zaun. Feared, too. You’re a woman that gets things done and you don’t appreciate failure. You carved a name for yourself, and even Vander respected you. I want you to fight with me. Not to mention you know how to craft working prosthetics.” You tick off each point with a finger.

“Thanks for the ego boost, but I-”

“-am loyal to Silco? Pfft, don’t make me laugh. You’re loyal to yourself and your interests. Besides, Silco is going to be dead by the end of the week. Either by my hand or someone else’s. He can’t keep a hold on the Undercity, and he can only dream of reaching Renata’s heights.” You shrug, “I don’t see why you would continue to work for a dead man, Vika.”

“I knew you’d amount to something with that brain of yours.” Sevika chuckles, “How’d you steal the Undercity from Silco without him noticing?” She leans back and spreads out comfortably on the couch.

“It was never his to begin with. The people are pissed. Vander let Enforcers walk all over us. In the end, Vander had lost a lot of respect because of that. Silco flooded our streets with a drug that tore apart families. It made our people worse even if it had some beneficial properties. Too much of the stuff will rot you from the inside. I’m sure you know since you take controlled doses… He never had their respect. He had their fear. Both had the people’s anger. I’m angry too.” Irritated, you play with your dagger, “I spent the last four years gathering intel and planting seeds. I won the people over because I’m a Zaunite. Not a man with grandiose ideas using his people as an experiment. They respect me and that respect turned into loyalty because of the things I’ve done. They fear me too… but they’re not scared of what I’ll do to them. They’re scared of what I’ll do to others for them.” You chuckle darkly and throw the knife. It lodges into the painting on the wall. You twist your wrist, making it glow, and it comes flying back into your hand.

“What the fuck was that?” Sevika hisses.

“That?” You smile secretively, “That’s magic, my dear. My magic. I gained it the night Silco slaughtered my foster father.”

“I’m sorry about Benzo, Y/n… and you’re right. Silco’s grasp on the Undercity was only because of me. He didn’t associate with the people like I did. I regret what happened with Vander but I was pissed. I jumped ship because he betrayed us. He let those fucking Enforcers beat us down and expected us to take it until they got tired. I didn’t think he’d actually lose his fucking life, but Silco had a vendetta against him.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes.

“So jump ship again. We are going to war. I’ll make sure of it.” You say coldly, “Piltover will get what’s coming to them.”

“Alright… You got me. I’ll help you out.” Sevika sighs heavily, “I knew you’d amount to something.”

“Great!” You chirp and hop off the desk, “You didn’t have a choice anyway.” You giggle as the knife that was floating behind her slips back into your pocket.

“What do you need me to do?” Sevika raises an eyebrow.

“Call for the assembly. We’re celebrating Pitfall Day in an hour!” You cheer, “It’ll be perfect to announce a change in leadership, don’t cha think?”

“Pitfall Day… we haven’t celebrated since Silco took control. The people were too scared to call for it.” Sevika smiles wistfully.

“Exactly, and that’s despicable.” You hiss as your anger flares. You shake your head to clear your thoughts. “Hey. Do you know what happened to Jinx? Is she alright?” You bite your lip and fidget. ‘I should have checked on her earlier but I needed to get this stuff done. I won’t rest until they’re all dead.’ You snarl to yourself.

“Jinx?” Sevika scoffs, your questions snapping her out of her mind, “She’s fine. She ran out of the building hours ago.”

“Hm, okay. I’m going to find her. We’ll be in touch.” You start walking to the door, “Oh! My bad, I forgot to do something!” You skip back over and Sevika watches you like a caged animal. You place your hand against the port for her arm and pour some magic into her shoulder. You feel her skin warm and notice that the scar on her face glows faintly.

“What did you just do?” Sevika raises an eyebrow and touches her shoulder.

“Something you’ll curse me out for while it happens but thank me for later!” You wink at her, “See you at the assembly, Vika!” You call as you rift away.

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader

Here's a little something I cooked up. Not sure what I want to do with it, but it was bugging me to be written. For better or worse.

This is a little Helmut Zemo/Female Reader moment. It has Sam and Bucky too. It's not fully developed, but hopefully you all can enjoy it for what it is.

OOOOO

You were in Germany when you got the call from Sam. He needed help locating the Flag-Smashers, and was hoping you could offer some assistance.

He just happened to call at the perfect time, because as it turns out, the person you went to visit was no longer around. So, since you had essentially made a trip across the ocean for nothing; you figured, why not? Might as well make something of your travels abroad and not make it a total loss.

Sam gave instructions to meet him at a residence in Riga, Latvia. He mentioned very little other than that. Technically though, that wasn't entirely his fault. You're pretty sure he intended to provide more information, but Bucky was shouting, "Hellos.", "You've been missed!", and her personal favorite, an exasperated, "Please save me from my tormentor."

After Bucky's outburst, Sam had seemed to have forgotten about you on the phone; so you were just listening to constant bickering in the background. All you could do was shake your head and laugh at this point. Truly, Earth's greatest defenders were simply children at times.

It was good to hear their laughs. It had been too long and the world was still recovering.

We all were.

Bucky, Sam, and you all disappeared when Thanos snapped his fingers, wiping out half the universe. When you all returned, there was love and there was loss all around, but it bonded the three of you in a friendship deeper than any of you could imagine.

Okay, perhaps, that's a slight exaggeration. You became extremely good friends with both James and Sam; however, the two of them are a different story altogether. They won't admit to their friendship, but you know they'll both come around one day. They're just being stubborn idiots. God, she missed those two guys. It's been months since she had laid eyes either one of them.

So, here you are, standing right out front the door Sam gave instructions to meet at.

You fiddled with the arm of the backpack strapped across your chest. You didn't think you'd be this nervous, but a combination of excitement and adrenaline had caused you to be a bit jumpy. You tried to shrug it off as you raised your hand to knock on the door.

Not even 10 seconds after you knocked on the door you heard the shuffle of footsteps, accompanied with the ever present response of, "I got it."

Only the footsteps halted abruptly and muffled discussions were faintly heard through the door. You couldn't make out what was being said, only that no further movement had been made to answer the door.

I swear to God, if they are simply having an argument about who gets to open the door, I am going to murder them both on the spot.

You were about to knock on the door again a bit more insistently, but you never got the chance as the door abruptly swung open to reveal Bucky.

As you stared back at one another, you couldn't help but noticed his tense appearance, which is not all that unusual for him, but it was a more strained posture. You assumed it had something to do with whatever was being talked about just moments prior to answering the door.

It couldn't have been too serious because seconds later he dropped all pretense and gave you a heartfelt smile before sweeping you up in his arms for a hug.

He all but dragged you inside, it only caused you to chuckle at his enthusiasm. Yeah, you had missed him a lot.

The hug continued to linger on, and you could hear the door behind you close. You were about to motion to Bucky to release you from his hold when you heard Sam pipe in highly amused, "Buck, give her some room to breath."

You could feel the glare James was giving Sam, but he did let you go eventually.

Upon the release from your hug, the sleeves of your blue hoodie had drifted past your hands; you pushed them up a bit where you could grab James's hand and squeeze it in silent thanks.

After letting go of Bucky, you turned around to face Sam, shaking your head and grinning at him with delight, "Never a dull moment around here is there?"

"Never," Sam replied. "It's my turn, now," holding his arms out, he smiled pulling you into a softer embrace, but no less enthusiastic.

You huffed out a laugh and hugged him back with equal fervor.

A few moments had passed, and you reluctantly untangled yourself from Sam. More pleasantries had been exchanged and small talk had filled up the space as you walked fully into open living space.

You did a turn about the room as you headed towards the kitchen area with the guys trailing behind you. You had grabbed the strap of your backpack and had lifted it over your head.

You were about to place your stuff on the kitchen island when you heard soft footfalls make their way from the outer hallway towards you.

The unexpected noise caused you to hesitate; you turned your head towards Sam and James with a puzzled expression on your face. You had opened your mouth with the intention to ask them who else was in the safe house with you, when you saw him.

The backpack you were holding had fallen out of your hands and onto the floor with a thud, but you couldn't tear your eyes off the man standing across the room from you now. Your face had gone completely slack jaw and eyes had widen in shock leaving you speechless.

You would normally have said something quippy in this moment, but your brain had stopped functioning.

The silence was finally broken from Sam's response to the situation.

"Okay, I know what this looks like. We can explain him," Sam cautiously said. "Actually, Bucky should be the one to share this story, since it was his idea."

You could hear the words Sam was saying, but they never really registered. You assumed he thought you were shocked because the man who stood in front of you once tore your friends a part. Because he was supposed to be in a prison in Germany. Any other number of reasons could potentially be listed. What Sam didn't realize, was that the man standing before you was the last person you saw before you disintegrated before his eyes, and this was the first time since that chaos you had seen him again.

Other than Sam's calm reply, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Perhaps it was because the same look of shock and awe was reflected on Zemo's face.

You tried to form a response, something, anything to say.

Neither Sam or Bucky knew you used to visit Zemo after he was imprisoned. Whenever you travelled to Germany, you would tell them you had a contact that only agreed to provide information face to face. They never put two and two together, but they also trusted you implicitly; so they had no reason to ever question your motives or who exactly you were going to see. You actually saw Zemo a fair amount of time. More often than not, it was always to learn about the inner workings of Hydra. While they may be diminished in capacity; they still had not been completely eradicated. And you were determined to locate and destroy every remaining Hydra base, and dismantle them once and for all. They took your parents from you, and you were going to make sure they couldn't hurt anyone ever again. So, Zemo had been the obvious choice to help gain as much information as possible in your quest.

So, over the course of 2 years, you had made several trips to see him. You could almost say you were on friendly terms, but mostly, you believed his kindness and willingness to provide information was a benefit to him. To interact with someone on the outside to remind him he's not completely alone in the world.

The last time you saw each other was a day like any other you would come to visit. You'd lean outside his glass cell and just talk. The prison only allotted an hour's visit. So you always had to make your time worth while.

This particular day was colder than usual for the time of year. And being left outside the prison hallway where Zemo's cell was located only caused the draft to further lower the temperature with the concrete walls. You had involuntarily shivered as a cold draft had blasted in from one of hallways. Zemo had taken notice and unzipped his hoodie, passing it off to the guard to hand over to you. In that moment, the realization came that things were no longer black and white between the two of you. When you asked him why, he simply shrugged and said it's what any gentleman should do. His expression had softened though and was no longer outwardly indifferent. You had put on the blue garment and zipped it up; tugging at the sleeves as the hoodie was much larger on your frame than his.

There was only about 30 minutes left of your visit when alarm bells started going off. Zemo had pushed himself against the glass to look down the closest hallway to try and see what was going on. You had tried to remain calm, but when the guard standing nearby had disappeared right in front of you both, you knew something was dreadfully wrong.

With visible panic on your face, you had whispered out the word Thanos to Zemo. You'll never forget what happened next or the expression on his face. There was a hitch in your lungs and a strong tugging sensation drifting through your chest. You stumbled into the glass and fell to your knees in front of Zemo. You had slumped onto your side trying to concentrate on what was happening to you. You peered up at Zemo as he had slid himself down the glass to your level gazing at you in concern. You could hear him shouting for help, but there was no one around. You placed your hand on the glass to get his attention, and only then did you realize, you had tears in your eyes.

He brought his hand up on the other side of the glass and placed it against where yours was. Funny how an instance can change everything between two people. You saw his eyes widen and that's when you noticed the right side of your body started to turn to dust. All you had time to say was, "I'm sorry," before you completely disintegrated before him, leaving him, no doubt, alone once again.

You would have laughed at the expression on his face now if you knew it hadn't been the first time he's seen you since....what happened. But there was nothing really funny about the situation.

You weren't quite sure what to do, but your feet made the decision for you as you slowly made your way to stand directly in front of Zemo.

It's the first time you've stood together without any glass between you both. He's a bit taller than you, but not by miles; you're chin roughly comes up to his shoulder.

You see him swallow as if he's also thinking of something to say, but instead you see him raise his hand up and start to reach out to touch you, but stops before actually doing it. Internally, you make your choice for him and reach up with your hand and grab the one he's left hanging in the air. It's just a light touch, almost as if you're both worried the other might not be real.

Zemo glanced down at you holding onto his hand and back at you briefly. He squeezed your hand gently and then you heard him release a harsh breath before gripping your hand tighter and yanking you into his arms.

You barely had time to think about what was happening before you were enveloped into the most emotional hug you've ever felt.

The reaction was unexpected, but then so were the circumstances you were in, so nothing should really surprise you, but you were. Your arms were slightly hovering over his back, not entirely sure at that moment what you wanted to do, as you were still in shock. But, after a brief pause you brought your arms firmly around his body and hugged Zemo back with just as much care and buried your face in the crook of his shoulder. You heard him mumbling words into the side of your head, but couldn't understand what he was really saying.

Time could have been standing still for the infinite period we were latched onto one another. It wasn't until the clearing of Bucky's throat that jarred us out of the moment. The noise wasn't loud, but the room had been so silent until then; it sounded like a freight train.

Realization must have hit us both at the same time that we weren't alone in the room, and we jumped apart as if lightning had struck us both.

At this point, you were looking at anything in room, but Zemo. You started playing with the ends of your sleeves in nervousness when Sam spoke up in a very slow and deliberate manner, "Would you care to explain to us, what is going on?"

"I thought you were going to have Bucky explain to me, why Zemo's not in prison!" you say back, not ready at all to try and explain things. You still needed to wrap your own head around it, before attempting to share your brief history with Zemo.

"Oh, no doll. This can wait," James answered. You could tell he was not happy, but maybe more confused than anything by how he responded.

Both were assessing Zemo to try and figure out if this is some sort of game to him. Bucky had reached out to grab your arm and pulled you gently away from the criminal mastermind and closer to them to instinctually protect you from him.

You outwardly sighed, knowing there was a long conversation about to happen.

Zemo took a step forward and James took a step back bringing you with him. Sam seemed perturbed over the entire situation, but Zemo spoke up first.

"Is that, what I think it is?" he said. Zemo cocked his head to the side and eyed you with amusement.

You silently shook off the hold Bucky has on you and raise an eyebrow at him to not try that again. You swiveled back to Zemo, placing your hands on your hips. Confusion was written clearly on your face as you answered him back, "Could you be a little less vague?" A small smile graced your face in reply.

Zemo pointed at your midsection and a smug expression appeared on his face.

"I must say, you look quite fetching in my clothes."

You were physically startled by his comment. You had forgotten you were wearing his hoodie. It's why you went to Germany. To return it to him, but when you found out he was no longer there, you realized you were going to have to either keep it permanently or track him down. Sam's call came in before you could make that decision. Fate really is something else.

Your hands grabbed the fabric of the hoodie as you closed your eyes and ducked your head. You could feel the embarrassment threatening to turn your whole face red.

You started to shuffled away knowing an immediate outburst was coming from both of her friends. What Zemo just said, implied so many different things. So, of course Sam and Bucky would start shouting without having any context to the situation of how you acquired a piece of his clothing.

If the floor could have opened up at that moment, you would have appreciated it.

Sam and Bucky were both visibly upset and clearly about to start a fight with Zemo, but thankfully Sam, being the more even tempered of the group, stopped Bucky from doing anything. He had shrugged off Sam and stared at you with hurt on his face.

You exhaled shakily as things started to calm down. You dared to catch a glimpse of Zemo, and of course, out of everyone here, he seemed to thoroughly enjoy causing the chaos he wrought with his sly comment.

If looks could kill, he would have been flayed alive.

"Enough," you said to everyone. It was time to clear the air. "Let's all just take a seat."

You had gotten exasperated by the entire situation and turned to Bucky and Sam, "Do you automatically have to jump to conclusions? Do you not think there is a perfectly logical explanation, somewhere?" You had slapped your hands down by your sides and turned to Zemo. He looked as if he were about to say something, but you cut him off pointing a finger at him.

"And you. Big trouble. Don't even get me started."

As you stared at Zemo; he at least had the decency to appear somewhat contrite at your scolding. You could still tell he was mildly amused about the whole situation.

You saw Sam had taken a seat and started to wave you over to where he and Bucky were.

"Start talking," he said.

"I'm not sure where to start," you answered, pacing back and forth.

"How about the beginning?" Bucky parroted out arms crossed in front of him, he was clearly still a bit defensive.

"The beginning. Right. Sure. I can do that," you stopped to think about how to start, but everything just seemed to be as if you were actually hiding something from them, when you weren't. It just never came up, and The Blip was emotional for everyone.

Truth be told, you would like to avoid this conversation at all costs. For many reasons, some you're not ready to deal with.

Zemo had spoke up while you were deciding how to broach the subject at hand.

"If I may," he spoke.

The three of us had answered him simultaneously, "No!"

Yeah, it was going to be a long day.

OOOOO

[scarecrow-supremacy]

A/N: Oookieee, so I decided to start writing a new fic bc I have great ideas for a story line. Yet I can’t bring myself I writing an actual beginning. Like I’ve already written some random chapters, but I can’t do anything with them because they don’t really make much sense without the context of the rest of the fic/my ideas. Like this chapters is where the romance/actual x reader gets into actual action. Hopefully you get the gist of what the plot is, and aren’t confused as hell from this part. Sorry if it’s a bit long, it’s around 4.8k-ish words. Enjoy 💜

Hatake Kakashi wasn't one to celebrate his birthday.

He simply thought that they were foolish excuses to let loose and party. To Kakashi, birthdays were no reason to be happy and celebrate. They were just reminders of how long he had endured the pain of living. Each year marked another without the people he once held close in his heart. His father, his sensei, his teammates, and (y/n)...

The day that (y/n) gone on that horrible mission was his special day. The mission he was supposed to go on, but (y/n) filled in for because she wanted him to go celebrate with Gai and the others. So much for having the day of joy...Kakashi thought to himself mournfully.

With a great sigh, he grabbed the last of his belonging, shoving them in his mission pack. He'd promised to take his students out of a group mission for the day, but it had been mostly for selfish reasons. Kakashi had hoped that this would take his mind off of the weight in his soul, yet knowing that his efforts would be futile. The loss would never leave him, it would always follow him like a darned shadow. It would forever haunt him. There was not letting go of the horrors of his past.

Slowly, Kakashi strolled to the gates of Konoha to meet his kids, shoving his hands in his pockets as he mumbled a little tune under his breath. The dark cloudy sky and drizzling rain seemed to mirror how he felt inside.

Drip, drop. Drop, drop. Drop, drop.

Each raindrop fell upon the dirt paths of the town, dampening Kakashi's Jonin uniform. If only he'd gone on that mission, if only he hadn't let (y/n) take his place. If only so many things that happened hadn't. If only he felt whole again. He could feel the heavyweight of guilt on his shoulders, spreading pain throughout his body. Sure, Team 7 filled the void, but they could only do so much. If there is one thing I wish for, it is that these kids will grow up to be happy.

A soft smile played upon Kakashi's face as he approached the three teens. "KAKASHI-SENSEI!" His hyperactive blonde student, Uzumaki Naruto, yelled at him, "YOU'RE LATE-TTEBAYO!" He raised his fist in anger. Sakura glared at both Kakashi and Naruto, slapping the boy's back to calm him down. Off to the side stood Sasuke, his hands in his pockets as he briefly kicked the dirt and pebbles around him to form his clan's symbol. "Usuratonkachi," he grumbled at the group. To be honest, Kakashi did feel a little guilty about keeping the kids waiting for him. They were being held back just because he was wallowing in self-pity. And Kakashi felt ashamed of that; ordering his mind to push his thoughts further to the back of his mind.

Kotetsu and Izumo, guards of the gates, turned to the team and smiled in greeting. "The gate opening mechanism is broken, so we have to manually open the gates," they explained. "Heading out yet again, eh?" Kotetsu chuckled. "I thought you lot just came back from a mission. Ya leaving so soon?" Izumo asked. Naruto pumped his hand into the air, "Yeah! Dattebayo! It's only a C rank, but it'll be fun-ttebayo!"

He's a lot like you, eh Obito, Kakashi's mind wandered as he looked up at the clouded sky, a drop of rain fell upon his nose and slid down his mask. If only you, Minato-sensei, and Rin were here to see us in action. You would be proud.

But what about (y/n)? Part of Kakashi was surprised that he didn't think of her immediately. Did he still believe that she could've been alive? After the Hokage had told him that he'd lost contact with (y/n), Kakashi didn't know what to think. It had been 3,650 days since she left. 3,589 since she was supposed to come back. And 3,529 days since they fully lost contact. What were the chances she'd come back, alive or injured? Kakashi wanted to believe that she was still alive. Was that realistic?

"She's gone, Kakashi! You need to understand that!" He flashed back to when Asuma, Gai, and Kurenai had tried to slap some sense into him. Well actually, Kurenai had slapped him. "Kakashi-sensei?" Sakura gently tugged his sleeve, straining her arm up so her red umbrella would also cover his head. "Are you okay? You've been spacing out a lot lately." She whispered as she looked up at him.

"I'm fine, Rin," Kakashi weakly smiled, "It's nothing that you should worry about." Sakura flashed him a questioning look, "Rin?" Sucking the air, Kakashi's whole body tensed up, "Sorry." He looked away, turning his attention to the bickering Sasuke and Naruto. "Just a little mix-up, Sakura." He put on a fake smile, breaking up the boy's fight. "Let's go, shall we?"

"Alright! Shanaroo!"

"Dattebayo!"

Kotetsu and Izumo went to open the gates but stopped to exchange worrisome glances. "Someone just knocked from the other side of the gates. Which is weird because our list says that we shouldn't be expecting anybody." Izumo knit his eyebrows together. Kotetsu, who had been looking through a glass which allowed him to see the incomer, hastily urging Izumo to help him. "ANBU!" He had barked at his partner, "Bleeding! Dying, wounds, whatever! They need medical attention!" That had caught Kakashi's attention, he got ready to act as the guards opened up the gates, heaving on the rusted hinges. Yet he was not mentally prepared for what awaited on the other side of the grand doors.

There she stood. Uniform torn, stained and ripped up. The wakizashi sword that was strapped to her hip was blunt and scratched, the sheath dented. Skin scratched and bruised, wounds dripping with blood and gore. A long x shaped cut on the inner side of her left thigh. Gasping and choking for air, she started to wobble, blood dribbling down her limbs and stomach. The rain continued to fall, now hard and heavy; burning and searing the wounds of the lady. Yet she still managed to keep her face from wavering In an instant, Kakashi recognized who the woman was based on her cracked porcelain ANBU mask. (y/n).... "Sakura! Go alert the hospital. And you two boys, clear the way for Sakura so she can get there. Quickly!" Kakashi ordered them as he took the heavily wounded woman in his arms. Anger and fear coursed through Kakashi's veins as his heart thumped erratically. He could feel (y/n)'s body twitch in pain. "Izumo, go let Hokage-sama know that Ibara-hime has returned." Kakashi let out one last demand before zipping off to follow his kids.

"Kakashi..." (y/n) mumbled out his name, "Kakashi..." she shakily rose her hands up to gently cup his masked cheeks. "What is it?" He whispered, gently rubbing her skin through a torn patch of her ripped uniform. "Happy birthday, Hatake..." She softly breathed, her tight grip of Kakashi's chest loosened as her eyes dropped closed. Please don't die, (y/n)... I've waited all the fucking years. You aren't leaving me again. A tear formed in Kakashi's eye, flying off with the rain as he bolted towards the hospital. Stay with me a bit longer, will you?

"My sensei will be here any second with an ANBU woman in need of immediate medical attention!" Kakashi heard Sakura's voice quiver as he barged into the hospital. "I'm here, kids. Go to Gai-sensei and stay with him until I'm back." He quickly barked, flashing all of the nurses who flowed into the room a nervous look. "Please, help her. I'm begging you." He pleaded with the staff uncharacteristically. I need her to live. Need. "We do what we can, sir." One of the medic-nin nodded, putting (y/n)'s unconscious body onto the stretcher. If (y/n) lives, that would be the best birthday gift ever.

Kakashi jogged after the nurses and doctors, peering into the emergency clinic room through the window. "I'm sorry, Sir, but you won't be able to visit the lady until all the major injuries have been cleaned up and treated." A male nurse out his hand in his shoulder from behind. "But..! Okay..." Kakashi let out a sigh, "Isn't there any paperwork that needs to be filled out?"

The nurse shook his head, "The Hokage has come and is speaking to one of my colleagues about it. Don't worry about it. You won't have to take care of any of that." He tried to reassure the angsty shinobi, "The woman is part of the ANBU ranks, right? Her mask is of the uniform." Kakashi nodded his head, biting his lip inside of his mask, "Yeah...she is... but it's kinda complicated." The nurse raised his eyebrow but just shrugged. "Can I speak with the Hokage?" The Hatake requested. "Come this way," the other man sighed, leading him away.

Kakashi let out a deep and long sigh as he held (y/n)'s scraped hand in his gloved ones. He had been told by the same nurse from before that (y/n) was in a decent state to accept visitors, yet was still unconscious. He could tell that the nurse was hiding something from him, but he was too worried about (y/n) to give it a second thought. Hesitantly, he brought her hand to his masked lips, gently pressing them against the fabric. "Ya know, (y/n). After you left, I decided to give those goddamn books a try. And you're right, they are addictive. Thanks for the gift," Kakashi sadly chuckled before pausing for a moment.

"Those books, they helped me a lot. They helped me get through my days, just like you told me."

"They also helped me realize something. They helped me realize that I don't hate you. I don't want to hate, and I never should've."

"I've realized that I was such a dick to you at the beginning and that it was all my fault that our relationship became how it was. I regret it... So when you wake up again, I just want to start over again. Maybe not entirely, but just so that we can leave all the hate behind us. How does that sound?"

Kakashi stared at the sleeping (y/n), her chest heaving up and how slowly and rhythmically. It hurt him to see her like that, her skin swollen in the places of the stitches and anointed bruises. "Listen, (y/n). I'd never been able to tell this to you while you're conscious, so I might as well let it out now. I...I love you." Kakashi rightly shut his uncovered eye. "After feeling your loss, my dumbass self finally realized how much you are worth. After they pass on, you and the others were all I had left. But then you also left me, that hurt like hell." His tone started to break.

"Lord Hokage told me about the whole fake-death move, and I was relieved that you weren't gone for good. And then we lost contact, everybody assumed the mission had been finished, and your squad sacrificed your lives for it. I couldn't let the fact that you could be a dead sink in. It didn't feel right. Gai, Asuma, and Kurenai tried to get me out of another depression cycle. Kurenai even went to the lengths of quite literally slapping some sense into me." Kakashi played with a loose strand of (y/n)'s (h/c) hair.

The muscles of (y/n)'s hand twitched ever so slightly. Kakashi's drooping head snapped up; he'd almost fallen asleep in the chair. "(y/n)?" He murmured as her eyes started to flutter, "(y/n)?"

(y/n) chapped lip parted ever so slowly, taking a big breath of air, her (e/c) eyes squinting. "Hatake..?" She shakily managed to mumbled, her voice hoarse and dry. She tried to prop herself up on the bed, but Kakashi eased her back into her resting position. "Rest, (y/n), you're not ready to stress yourself yet." Kakashi to her, "I'll be back with a nurse and some water for you, alright?" (y/n) opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She simply looked down and nodded.

Moments later, Kakashi came back with the nurse and water. "Here," he carefully put the cup to her lip, gently tipping the cup, "Good." He turned to the nurse, who seemed to be scribbling something down from the little monitor to his clipboard. Kakashi's eyes followed the cord attached to it, to the long x shaped hash in (y/n)'s inner left thigh. What worried Kakashi was the anxious look on the nurse's face.

"(l/n)-san, your vitals are doing alright, but you'll have to stay here for a night or two just so that we can keep an eye on something's that may need monitoring." He curtly nodded his head, "Lord Hokage wished to speak to you. So, sir, that means you may have to leave."

Kakashi tried to reason with the other man, but (y/n) reached to weakly squeeze his thigh. "It's okay, Hatake. You can just drop by later." (y/n) tried to smile. "Fine," Kakashi grumbled, leaving the room and letting Hiruzen in.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hiruzen came back out. "How's (y/n)?" Kakashi asked him impatiently. The Hokage put his hand on Kakashi's shoulder as if trying to soothe him, "She'll be better soon. Don't worry, alright." The silver-haired shinobi let out a small grunt, "I know that she'll get better with time. But what about now?"

Kakashi knew that Hiruzen loved (y/n) almost like a daughter, he cared about her deeply. Hence the elaborate cover-ups to protect (y/n) and her squad on the unconventionally lengthy mission. The Hatake could see the sadness that had tried to be tucked away in the Sarutobi's eyes. "The main concern of the moment is the poison in the gash on her left thigh. The medic-nins have tried to extract as much of it as possible, and try to find something that will counteract the effects." The elderly man explained to him. "Did they find an antidote?" Kakashi questioned.

"That is where the problem lies," Hiruzen explained, "There is a certain medicinal herb that is used alongside a jutsu to nullify the effects, as the poison has traces of chakra. We have a few medics on hand who support the skill to perform the jutsu, but we don't have the plant. Even so, that won't be a permanent cure." Kakashi knit his eyebrows together, "How would it not be a perfect cure? Plus, since there are traces of chakra, could we possibly track down the person who created the poison and make them fess up on the cure?" He questioned.

"Great thinking, but..." Hiruzen groaned, "(y/n) said that they performed a self-destruction jutsu just after striking her. He probably thought that it would be in their best interest to take their secrets to the grave with them." Kakashi cursed under his breath, "Fuck... This is terrible."

Hiruzen nodded in agreement, "No duh."

Kakashi's head shot up, "Uh?!"

The elder man's eyes widened, "Did I use the term correctly?! I'm trying to pick up on the phrases the kids are using these days..."

Kakashi gritted his teeth, "Right idea of the meaning, I guess. But the context and timing...wasn't quite fit." Looking ever so slightly dejected, "Oh...alright." Smoothening out the wrinkles in his robe and putting in his cob pipe, "Kakashi, if you are going to stay here with (y/n), could you at least pick up some good food. The food in the hospital canteen is quite bland." Kakashi nodded his head and obliged, only to be stopped in his tracks by Hiruzen.

"Kakashi, I'd like to ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What caused your change in actions towards (y/n) change so much?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've observed you two whilst you were in the ANBU together, and you never got along that well. And suddenly you act so attached to her, Kakashi. You don't need to answer. It's just that as your leader, I want to understand what is going on in the heads of some of my most trusted people." Hiruzen explained to Kakashi, puffing out a cloud of smoke from his cob pipe.

Kakashi frowned from behind his mask, trying to figure out how to explain his change of feelings in a professional manner. "I think that after I was given the impression that she was gone, I noticed that I cared about her. It made me realize that I was wrong to not see how much she meant in my life." He tried, his voice fading off into a whisper. Hiruzen smiled and nodded, "You really are something else, Kakashi."

Kakashi silently strolled over to Ichiraku's to grab some takeout. The paper lanterns lit the nearly empty streets of Konoha, creating a soft and soothing ambiance. The smell of the rain and moisture still clung to the air, the dirt roads had muddy dampness to them. "Yo! Kakashi, my eternal rival!" A boisterous and friendly voice greeted the said man. "Hey, Gai," Kakashi responded, he noticed his students sitting alongside each other and gave them a quick wave and smile. Naruto and Lee were arguing about who'd get Sakura. Sakura insisted that Sasuke would come around in her favor. Sasuke was quietly eating his food. And Neji and Tenten were discussing a new sword they saw in the windowsill of a weaponry shop.

"I'll take two eggplant miso soups with brown rice noodles," Kakashi leaned over the counter space between Lee and Naruto to order his meal, also effectively stopping the argument. "Thanks, Ayame," he thanked the daughter of Teuchi, owner of the quaint place. "No problem, Kakashi-san!" She chirped.

"Kakashi?" Gai raised his brushy brow, "Your kids told me about what happened this morning..." Kakashi sighed and pulled him aside so that they were at a comfortable distance, "It was (y/n)..." he told his best friend, "She's back and in the hospital because she's not in good health at the moment. I just came here to pick up a meal for her." Kakashi watched as Gai's jaw dropped, "(Y/N) IS ALIVE!" He exclaimed a touch too loud for his eternal rival's taste, "CAN I MEET HER?!" Tears of youthful joy waterfalled down the jumpsuit-clad man's cheeks. "I'll see if you can come tomorrow, alright Gai." Gai smiled broadly, "This is very...unusual. Youthful, nonetheless!" He grinned.

Kakashi rubbed the back of his head and nodded, "I'm glad she's back..." he murmured barely loud enough for Gai to hear. Knowingly, Gai patted Kakashi's back. "Oh! Yeah! Happy birthday, my youthful rival!" He gently punched his comrade's shoulder. A smile formed on Kakashi's lips, "Thanks, Gai." He flashed his eccentric friend his signature close-eyed smile.

"I'll see you later."

"Bye, Kakashi! Have a good night!"

Knock knock, Kakashi rapt (y/n)'s door, "Can I come in?"

"Come in," (y/n) murmured, a small moan of pain escaping her lips, "Ouch..."

Kakashi quickly set the takeout on a little table, rushing to (y/n)'s side. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist and helped her to the table. "I got us dinner because the food at the canteen isn't that good." He explained with a slight shrug. "Thanks, Hatake," a weak smile formed on her lips. The silvered-haired Jonin served them their meals. "Itadakimasu," they both mumbled.

Heavy tension filled the room as they ate in silence. (y/n) knew that Kakashi had his mask down, but didn't look up. "It's been a while..." Kakashi breathed, in hopes of hearing (y/n) speak, "Too long..." The kunoichi rested her forehead on her palm, "I- Yeah..." she mumbled, eyes growing classier by the second. So much for trying to start a conversation... Kakashi thought sadly as they resumed their meals without a word. The silence seemed to be killed him. Kami, it had been 10 goddamn years! 3650 days since he had gotten to talk to the woman. He missed her. Hell, he could even say that he missed all of their little spats. Hatake Kakashi missed everything about (y/n).

"I missed you..." was all Kakashi mumbled as he pushed his finished food away and pulled up his mask, "All these days, months, and years."

Hot tears slipped down (y/n)'s cheeks, forming a puddle on the table. "I-I came back be-because I didn't want-want to hurt you and the r-rest. Dying on passed down pain to the people who love you. I can't afford to c-carry the guilt of t-that." She mumbled shakily, "I promised to be back, a-and I held up the promise." Kakashi sadly smiled as he awkwardly reached under the table to gently caress (y/n)'s thigh.

"You care about others so much, but you should really take a moment to care about yourself, (y/n)." Kakashi scolded the injured kunoichi, "You had me scared for you; all those gashes and open wounds... You could've died," he knit his eyebrows together in worry. "Don't do that ever again."

(y/n)'s dull smile faltered as Kakashi spoke on, "Now you know how I felt when I saw you doing all those suicidal stunts back then on those missions. It was like you were in a hurry to die... I mean, I was too, but you did some seriously dumb shit," she giggled emptily. Kakashi sweat-dropped, "I see... I guess you are right..." (y/n) rolled her (e/c) eyes as the masked shinobi let out a drained sigh, "I'm always right, Hatake."

"Really, (l/n)? You've been through torturous pain, and you still act like a child." Kakashi groaned, "All these years..." (y/n) shot him a hard glare, "All these years and you still think you're in charge of me." He cast a confused look, "It's my duty to protect you, as a comrade." As a comrade... "I guess, but you're just annoying, Hatake," she huffed.

"I'm sorry about ruining your birthday with my arrival and stuff. I probably ruined your plans with those kids." (y/n) looked down, breaking the silence that had fallen upon them, "I could hear you guys through the gate; they seemed pumped about going out. I'm sorry, I didn't think about the flaws in my whole plan." Kakashi's head snapped up from its resting position on the table, "It's fine, they don't even know it's my birthday," he paused, "But you planned to come here? As in, today in particular. With all those injuries, (l/n), you should've just tried to take care of yourself. My birthday isn't as important as your health."

The (y/n) shook her head, "I was going to stay at a small village pretty far from here before finally coming home. I planned to just heal up there and see how things went from there. I even considered settling down there. But that just didn't feel right," (y/n) face set in a frown, "Once I realized that your birthday wasn't that far off, I decided that I couldn't stay and needed to come back. I doubted I would even live to be back. But here I am..." she said with a soft wince of pain. "It was terrible, I hated every second of it," Her (s/t) fingers made their way to the raw mark on her inner thigh, “I’d already lost so much; there was nothing for me to lose at that point.” Kakashi's face softened as he understood what she meant. (y/n) wasn't put in the mission alone, she had her team. They all must've been killed with time.

"Ouch!" (y/n) yelped as she let out a moan of pain, clenching the fabric of her hospital-issued pajama pants. “Shh..." Kakashi whispered into her ear, quickly leaning in to soothe her, "What's causing all this pain?" He asked with a frown as (y/n) bit her lip. "It's the thing in your thigh, right? Lord Hokage and the nurse told me a bit about it. But I still don't fully understand it and how it can't fully be cured."

(y/n) buried her face in her hands, "Oh..." She mumbled, "The poison can't de be removed because it's already been inside of me too long. And since it is laced with chakra, the properties of it aren't completely like normal poison." She blinked back the stinging agonizing tears in her eyes, "The herb that I need is just going to ease the effects in my body, whilst the jutsu will seal it from triggering anything that was layered in with the chakra." (y/n) explained. Kakashi could tell she was trying her hardest to keep her face straight, pushing back the pain and hurting inside. "The thing is–"

"What?" Kakashi asked the pained woman, his tone soft and soothing, "I can help if I know what's going on."

Warily, (y/n) agreed to speak on, "The place where the mission was stationed at was just underground of the nuke-nin outpost I was from. And the guy who poisonous me was one of the other kids' experiments were done on, along with me. He was a few years older than us, and his name was Hiroto Myoga. His parents were in owed debt to the rogues, they were forced into being test subjects until they died. Which left Hiroto in the nuke-nin's hands." She rubbed the temple of her head pushing away the images that sent a shiver down her spine, "Something similar had happened in the case of my parents and me. But unlike me, when the ANBU did the raid, Hiroto was snuck away just in time."

Kakashi's heart sank as he heard what she was telling him. (y/n) had never known much about her past, the damned curse seal had caused. “Since he was older than most of the other kids there, the nuke-nin's of the outpost decided that they needed to trust their information. It was all precautionary, just in case they were taken down. And that's just what happened. Hiroto was the one ordered to put memory restriction curse seals on us, the kids, before he fled to be underground, where the actual harm was being done. That meant that all this time Hiroto had been working in those old plans." (y/n) closed her eyes tightly, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

With a subtle groan, Kakashi supported (y/n) up from the chair and rested her in her cot. "Don't stress yourself, (y/n). You can just tell me later; it's getting late anyway." He told her. "It's fine, Hatake. Letting this out helps me feel better." She reassured him.

"The ANBU caught wind of suspicious activity in that area and decided to send out a squad to go check out. I overheard Danzō arguing with Lord Hokage about it, and got interested. It was really dumb, but I just wanted to go to learn more about what happened in my past. I learned, but that can with lots of twists and turns. 10 years of going undercover..." (y/n)'s (e/c) eyes met Kakashi's single uncovered black one, "It wasn't long before Hiroto became suspicious of us, slowly narrowing the group down till it was just me." (y/n) took a deep breath and continued, "After Hiroto killed himself in our final fight, my curse seal was lifted. That's how I suddenly was able to remember all of the past. All of it."

A pit formed in Kakashi's stomach as he watched (y/n) cry in silence. He wanted to help her feel better, he really did. But he was afraid that he'd make things worse; dealing with feelings just wasn't his thing. "I'm here for you, (l/n). We've been through so much together, you've helped me through it all," Kakashi tried to reassure her, "It's my turn to look after you. Please, just don't cry." He reached out his hand to brush a tear-off of her streaked cheeks.

“Are you okay with me staying here for the night?" Kakashi asked (y/n) as they sat at the bay window, looking down upon the empty moonlit streets of Konoha. The soft light cast down by the moon seemed to make everything look beautiful, serene, and at peace. "(l/n)?" He asked again, turning to look back at her. A gentle smile played on Kakashi's lips as he saw that she'd fallen asleep. (y/n) had been through so much throughout the day, she not only deserved to rest for a long time but also needed to. "Good night, (y/n)..." he carefully lifted the sleeping beauty and placed her on the cot. Sitting back at the bay seat, Kakashi took in a deep breath. "I love you."

She's finally back.

She's finally home.

[skinsharpenedteeth]

RNM After Dark, Day 2!

Today's story is... different. Medical kink, lab sex, milking machines, barebacking, comeplay... it's a real mixed bag. Definitely rated Explicit. 6883 Words.

Here's a link to the story on AO3!

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"Compromised by a Foreign Body"

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Alex knew the way they were going about it was wrong. No matter how many times his father told him the aliens were nothing more than violent, seditious predators from another world, it never sat right. But, when it was time to do his duty, Alex had stepped into line. He’d even managed to pull his best friend, Liz Ortecho, into working in the biomedical lab for Project Shepherd. Being a Manes meant that even in what should be a strict, military hierarchy, Alex was a prince. So he made his own job, helped out where he wanted, and tried to not think about the things he’d done or seen when he went home at night.

“Alex, can you help me with the specimen extraction this week? I’m really behind on some notations from last week’s experiments. It would be a great help to me,” Liz said one afternoon. He’d been aimless all day, simply walking around the base to look busy but without an actual task. His stomach clenched, however, at the request. Specimen extraction brought him into very close contact with aliens, and there was one whose eyes never seemed to stay on the ground where they belonged. There was one whose eyes followed him, seeming to see through his fatigues and tracing every line of his body underneath.

“The females and males?” Alex asked, clearing his throat to get rid of his nerves. Liz gave him a curious look at the show of anxiety. She knew him well. She could tell this wasn’t something he wanted to do.

“Just the males. I just need a semen specimen. We’re seeing what happens if we crossbreed them with human female eggs and how that effects the DNA and RNA structures of any resulting hybrids. Just grab the three youngest and put them in the collection rooms. One sample from each should be plenty,” Liz went on, already returning to her microscope slides and file notations. Alex made sure to keep his face neutral as she glanced up to studied him while giving her instructions. He nodded shortly and left the lab, already mentally listing the tasks he’d need to perform in order to do a collection.

Alex had been given basic medical training when he’d been taken on at Project Shepherd. It was explained that at any point, one of their captives might have to be taken down with an injection if brute force was inadvisable. He’d also received extensive hand-to-hand combat training. Alex had found it interesting that de-escalation techniques hadn’t been taught as part of his training before coming onto the base. So far he’d only had to use the bare minimum of force to get his job done. He’d turned into something of a Jack-of-all-trades, however, when it came to medical or scientific technical procedures.

First, he stopped by the captive holding area and signaled his brother Flint over from the guard station. Flint gave him an annoyed scowl, but came over to where Alex was waiting.

“What’s up?” Flint asked, always informal to Alex by way of blood. If their father had seen, Flint would’ve been disciplined. Alex, though younger, outranked Flint and therefore should always be treated with the respect of a superior officer. Alex didn’t care as much. Flint was a stooge and would never be more than a glorified prison guard. His pantomimed respect wasn’t needed for Alex to know he was above him. But Alex knew if their father saw Flint being too familiar at work, he’d chastise him with a fist.

“I need male captives Max, Michael, and Noah to specimen collection,” Alex informed Flint formally. Flint gave him a speculative grin, but didn’t say anything. He nodded and went back to the guard desk to inform the other two soldiers on duty. Alex saw them share a glance and chuckle as Alex started towards the pharmacy. His next task was to pick up some Tri-Mix injection and then to make sure a few rooms were set up with the correct equipment for the procedure.

Alex tried to keep his mind on the business at hand. The laughing of the other soldiers needled at him in the back of his mind. He’d done this job a few times, but he didn’t take any pleasure from it. If the other guys could see what was involved in the process, maybe they’d realize that it wasn’t as sexy a scenario as they imagined. Maybe if Alex wasn’t gay, it wouldn’t have been an issue at all. Maybe if the aliens looked more… well… alien and not just like humans, it could’ve just been an abstract curiosity, a shitty work detail. They would’ve just commiserated with him for drawing the short straw. But he was gay, and they didn’t understand what happened behind the closed doors of the extraction rooms and these three aliens in particular were very attractive by human standards. He shuddered to imagine what deprived fantasies they’d built around him and the aliens. This only happened, of course, when he had to work with the males.

He made his way to the long hallway of rooms they used for technical procedures. Alex looked through the monitors over the tech’s shoulder at the monitoring station. Only one room was in use currently, and it looked like an autopsy was taking place. Alex grimaced inwardly to think they’d lost another alien to the ravages of time.

“Anything scheduled in rooms 5, 7, or 9 for the next hour?” Alex asked the monitor tech quietly. The soldier blinked up at him, as if just now aware someone else was in the small room with him. He cleared his throat and picked up the scheduling clipboard from the corner of his desk. Alex’s eyes strayed back to the occupied room, and he watched with sick fascination as things were taken out of the alien’s abdomen and loaded into bowls.

“Uh, looks like they’re free. Need to book ‘em, sir?” the young soldier asked, remembering protocol at the last moment.

“Yeah. Captain Alex Manes. Max, Michael, and Noah are being brought in for specimen extraction,” Alex told the soldier for his notes. He nodded and wrote down the details on his paper copy of the schedule. He’d type it into the online schedule later as well as any observational notes. With a last glance towards the wall of screens, Alex left the room and went to get the equipment cases out of storage.

Each case held a milking machine which included a cylinder with a latex liner, a connector hose, and a suction machine. Alex placed one in each room and plugged in the power supply to the suction machine so it could start warming up. He rifled through the cabinets that lined each room’s walls and found the lubricant, prostate stimulation equipment, and massage wands. He’d never needed to use the extras, but something about their presence made him feel like he was actually there to do a job. The machines would do most of the work. He was really just there to monitor and make sure the samples were collected and labeled correctly for Liz.

As he was just double-checking all his equipment, Dr. Valenti walked into the room he was in. Alex turned and eyed his ex-best friend warily. Kyle had been making strides towards repairing their friendship, but Alex was still skeptical.

“Hey man. Liz said you were doing a collection. I brought you the Tri-Mix injections. Mind if I help out?” Kyle asked, showing him the preloaded injection pens.

“Sure, I guess. There’s not much to do. Just inject them, sleeve them, turn on the milkers, and go get a cup of coffee until the sensors go off,” Alex said flippantly.

“You don’t do any manual or electrical stimulation before you sleeve them?” Kyle asked, sounding a bit shocked. Alex tried to shrug nonchalantly. He didn’t want to admit that manual and electrical stimulation felt like he was crossing a line somehow. He logically knew these were not humans with human feelings or cultural constructs about consent, but in his own mind it was a step too far. The injection made it medical, but if he actually started probing and touching… then it might just be what those soldiers at the containment area thought it was. Kyle must’ve read his thoughts, because he clapped Alex on the shoulder and gave him a patronizing grin.

“You get better samples if you stim them. I can show you on one if you like? Just so you can see it’s not what you think it is,” Kyle offered, squeezing Alex’s shoulder affectionately. Alex absolutely did not want to see… except that he did. He was going to hell for it, but he was curious. In fact, he was fucking fascinated, and he hated himself for it.

“I mean, if you’ve got the time?” Alex said, trying to give Kyle an out.

“Hey, what’s the joke about doctors and always being busy except they’re really golfing? Think of this as my golf break. I’m getting out of the clinic and getting to do something fun for a little while,” Kyle said with a laugh.

As if on cue, the sound of wheels in the hallway alerted them that the captives had arrived. Alex turned to see two men rolling in Max, the largest physically of their aliens, already naked and strapped to a gurney, gag in his mouth (to protect him from biting his tongue while coming off any medications used during the procedure). Alex felt a quick flash of rage that they hadn’t left him clothed or thrown a blanket over him. The guards placed his gurney in the middle of the room, locked the wheels, saluted to Alex and Kyle before they left. Alex watched Kyle’s eyes rove up and down Max’s body covetously. Max had been gagged and given a mild, but quickly dissipating sedative. Alex could tell that he was relatively aware of where he was, but couldn’t fight the bonds. He hardly did, even when the sedative wore off.

“Here, let’s reposition him a little. If we’re going to stim him, I need to have better access to his body. Did the guards flush their systems before they brought them up?” Kyle asked, already unstrapping one of Max’s legs. He reached under the gurney and pulled out a heel stirrup that he gently placed Max’s foot in before re-securing him for safety. He did the same with Max’s other leg, spreading him wide.

“Uh….,” Alex started, completely out of his depth. He looked up at Max who met his eyes and nodded, color infusing his cheeks like a blush. Kyle was finishing with the other foot when Alex finally answered. “Yeah. They did.”

“Good. That means I don’t have to,” Kyle replied with a laugh. He was transforming the gurney from a long bed into practically a chair in front of Alex’s eyes. Alex had no idea the gurneys had so many bells and whistles on them. With his legs spread wide, hips strapped down to the table, and naked, Max looked utterly exposed to them. Kyle was leaning over Max’s upper body, using a pen light to check his responses. “God, the meds they have now are remarkable. He’s already becoming cognizant again!”

“Yeah, they come to pretty quick,” Alex remarked dryly while he watched Kyle do a quick examination, checking reflexes.

"Let's get some gloves on and I'll show you what I mean about the manual stimulation. If he doesn't react, we can always give him the Tri-Mix, but this can sometimes remove the need to even use it," Kyle explained, moving over to the instrument cart and pulling out two pairs of non-latex gloves. He and Alex snapped them on and Kyle rolled the instrument cart over to beside the table. He grabbed a rolling stool that had been left in the corner of the room from another procedure and sat himself down between Max's spread legs. Alex could see Max's confusion as he lifted his head to try and see what Kyle was doing.

"Okay so," Kyle started, drawing Alex's attention back from Max's dark eyes to where he was covering two fingers in a copious amount of lubricant. Alex watched as he used the non-lubricated hand to spread Max's ass cheeks and expose his dusky, puckered hole. Max's leg muscles flexed against their restraints at the feeling. "Just like with human males, these guys have got something like a prostate. You'd stim it the same way you would for a human."

"I usually like my partners to be hard before I go sticking things into their asses," Alex mumbled, trying for a joking tone. Kyle beamed up at him.

"That would be preferable. But if that's the problem, you can stimulate the prostate first and the penis should start getting erect after. Have you worked with these captives before? Do you know if this one is able to get hard without the injection?" Kyle asked. He still held Max's cheeks open, exposing him as he carried on his conversation with Alex. Alex risked a glance up to see that Max was staring resolutely at the ceiling, flushed but stoic to his treatment. Alex wished they were allowed to speak with the captives and that they didn't have to stay gagged when out of confinement. He'd just ask Max if getting hard was an issue, or if it was just the degradation of being used as a lab rat that kept him flaccid.

"I don't know. Like I said, I've never tried to stim them before suctioning. Max has never come in already hard, but his body responds well to the Tri-Fix," Alex replied, trying to ignore the fine tremors he could see in Max's stomach muscles. Kyle was rubbing a thumb in contemplative circles over Max’s hole, spreading the lube from his fingers and almost seeming unaware of what he was doing as he and Alex talked.

"I bet he can! He's a hell of a specimen. Before we try the prostate, let's see if he responds to some other stimulation," Kyle said with an excited clap. He stood up abruptly and walked to the side of the table. Alex stood on the other side, promising himself he would be polite and watch but wouldn't participate. Kyle took his time looking over Max's physique. In a familiar gesture, he set his hands high on Max's chest.

"Hey handsome," Kyle crooned. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down Max's chest, trailing his fingers lightly over the skin. Max darted his eyes to Alex in obvious confusion and alarm. Kyle followed his gaze. "Ignore him. I'm going to take care of you today."

Alex let his eyes slip away and back down to Kyle's hands. They smoothed over Max's skin, down over his ribs and stomach, then back up so his thumbs could tease lightly over Max's dark pink nipples. Max shifted under Kyle's attention.

"You've got to convince the blood to come up to the surface of the skin," Kyle murmured to Alex while he kept eye contact with Max. Kyle started to rub over Max's nipples more firmly, stroking over the tightening nubs. Pleased with their erectness, he hummed thoughtfully before trailing his hands down to rest on Max’s hipbones. Alex noticed the uptick in Kyle’s breathing and dilation in his eyes as he moved one hand to cup Max’s cock. He rocked the heel of his hand gently before circling his thumb and first finger around the shaft and stroking. Max’s body started to respond to the attention, his cock plumping up in Kyle’s grip as he kept stroking over him smoothly.

“That’s it,” Kyle cooed encouragingly. Max shifted under him as much as he could, head pressed back against the gurney and staring resolutely towards the ceiling. His face was flushed and the red stain seemed to be moving down towards his chest the harder he got. Alex jumped when a hand came into his view suddenly. “Put some more lube on my fingers.”

Alex obeyed Kyle’s order and watched him push one slick finger into Max’s hole, making the alien jump in surprise. Expertly, Kyle crooked his finger and within a few searching thrusts was able to locate Max’s prostate. Alex glanced up to check Max’s cock and was surprised to find him almost painfully engorged. Kyle followed his line of sight and smiled, turning to look at Alex triumphantly.

“Told you man, nothing to it. Hand me the suction canister and we’ll get him hooked up and pumping.” Alex shuddered at the excitement in Kyle’s voice, the eagerness, but he did was he was asked. As soon as the canister was lowered over Max’s cock, cool plastic resting against his belly, Kyle flipped a switch to began low suction. Max’s cock jerked in response to the tight pressure build and release of the machine, and Alex heard a low groan escape from behind his gag. Kyle had managed to work two fingers into his hole while Alex had watched the machine begin its work and was thrusting them in time with the machine. A glance further down and Alex could see the solid outline of Kyle’s own cock straining against his scrub pants.

“Uh, I’m going to go get started on one of the other captives,” Alex spoke up, feeling awkward at continuing to stand by the scene in front of him. Kyle gave him a friendly smile, fingers and wrist still working away.

“Sure, go do Michael. Noah, from what I understand, is a tougher case and I’d like to commit my full attention to him. After this, we can go do lunch if you want?” Kyle offered easily. Alex nodded and made a non-committal sound before turning and quickly exiting the room. He wasn’t fast enough to not hear Kyle murmuring softly to Max before he left. “You’re doing so good, Max. Look at these balls, man. You’re going to give up a big load for us today, huh?”

Alex wished he could bleach his brain.

He quickly closed the door behind him and moved towards the room he knew Michael to be in. He’d seen Michael around the compound. He was hard to miss with his curls, sharp smile, and sad eyes. Alex had tried to ignore him, but he found himself more and more aware of him each time they crossed paths. When he entered the exam room to find him naked and conscious, strapped and gagged the same as Max on the gurney, he flushed hot with a mix of embarrassment and want. He shut the door quietly behind him.

“Hey Michael,” Alex greeted him quietly. Michael’s eyes roved up and down his body, undressing him, challenging him despite his position. Feeling exposed, Alex moved towards the gurney slowly. The closer he got, the more of Michael’s body he could see. His cock was nestled serenely against his balls, a short, dark thatch of hair surrounding his groin and leading up his stomach and over his chest. Alex wanted to run his fingers through the hair, tangle himself in it, bury his face against it… but he knew that was inappropriate. No matter how attractive he found him, the alien was not in any position to consent to anything, and Alex knew it. He was still tempted, however.

To try to hide the awkwardness he was feeling, Alex busied himself with positioning the cart next to the gurney. He gloved up and reached for the lube, immediately dropping it when Michael cleared his throat next to him. The bottle clattered loudly on the metal cart, knocking the milking canister onto the ground. Alex fumbled to try to catch it before it rolled too far away. A knock sounded at the door and one of the guard’s voices came through.

“You okay, sir?”

“I’m fine!” Alex called back, face flaming in embarrassment. He looked at Michael who gave him a smug and superior grin around the obstruction in his mouth. Alex set the canister back on the table and bent over Michael to hiss at him. “Don’t be a dick!”

Michael gave him a raised eyebrow in response as if to say ‘who, me?’

“Yes, you,” Alex snapped. He moved back over to the table and picked up the lube again. Again, Michael pointedly cleared his throat. Alex abruptly turned to look at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What?!”

Michael just looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to catch up. With a huff, Alex moved to block the view of the camera and loosened the gag enough to slide it out of Michael’s mouth. He watched Michael moved his jaw around and swallow convulsively a few times, resisting the urge to get him some water, while he waited for Michael to speak.

“What do you want, Michael?” Alex asked, trying to put steel into his voice to cow Michael’s nonchalant, almost playful attitude.

“I was going to say, you could at least buy me dinner before you start sticking probes into me,” Michael replied, his voice rough but steady. Alex stared at him incredulously.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asked, unable to stop himself. Shock was an adequate description for how he was feeling about this turn of events.

“No. I am flirting with you, private,” Michael replied, giving Alex another once over before continuing. “How am I doing?”

“This is the least sexy situation I could possibly imagine being flirted with in,” Alex answered flatly.

“Well, you refuse to come visit me in my cell, so this is what I’ve got to work with. Besides, you’re about to have to get me hard enough to spurt for science. Maybe you should work on your bedside manner.” Alex stared down at Michael on the table. His eyes moved down to his exposed cock, still flaccid, and then over to the milking machine on the table. His ears felt warm and he was sure he was blushing.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. After all, I could always just inject you with Tri-Fix if you don’t want to get hard naturally,” Alex countered, trying not to let how flustered he was feeling show through in his voice. Michael gave him a frankly filthy grin in response.

“With the right stimulation, I’ve never had a problem getting hard naturally. Besides, have you ever had one of those tubes on your dick before?” Michael whistled low in apparent appreciation. “Science is wonderful. I’m all for science.”

“No, I’ve never--” Alex started, affronted at the mere idea that he would use government property for his own pleasure that way.

“Maybe you should climb up here and give it a try….” Michael suggested in a conspiratorial tone.

“There’s no way. There are cameras in here,” Alex protested, wondering why he wasn’t shoving the gag back in Michael’s mouth and getting on with the sample collection.

“I can fix that, ya know. These drugs they have us on dull my powers quite a bit, but I’m still pretty good at shorting out electronics when I need to,” Michael countered. He rushed on as Alex opened his mouth to respond. “You can keep me tied down. You can, uh… manually… collect your sample for the lab from me and take a spin on the suck tube at the same time.”

“I could never…” Alex protested weakly. He hated that he was even considering it. He didn’t know what Michael’s plan was, but he was pretty sure getting his dick sucked by a robot was not acceptable protocol under any circumstances.

“You can gag me again if you want to keep me quiet,” Michael said, voice almost a purr. Alex contemplated the idea, eyes straying from Michael to the milking canister and then surreptitiously up towards where the cameras were. Curiosity was getting the best of him. Curiosity and hormones. This close he could smell the petrichor and salt scent of Michael’s skin and make out the green flecks hidden amongst the amber of his eyes.

“If you can take out the cameras…” Alex started, but before he could finish he heard a faint cry of dismay from the observation room. Panicking, Alex shoved the gag back into Michael’s mouth and hoped to God it hadn’t been visibly out on the video. A second later, one of the monitor techs came into the room looking thunderous.

“Everything okay?” Alex asked the tech who had grabbed a chair and angrily shoved it into a corner. He started to climb up onto the seat, his eyes trained on the small dome on the ceiling that held the camera.

“This fucking piece of shit. Always shorts out on me. Goddamnit,” he cursed, removing the protective dome to look at the wiring beneath. He cursed again and hopped down, coming over to stand in front of Alex. “I’m going to have to replace the whole thing. Something major burned up. Do you want to postpone this procedure or--”

“No!” Alex cut in, his voice sharply cutting off the tech. The tech gave him a wide-eyed look. “I just… I’m not going to have time later. Look, he’s secured down. There are guards outside the door. I’ll be fine. He’s not going to cause me any trouble, will you?”

Alex directed the last question at Guerin who looked between him and the tech and lolled his head as if he were still slightly dopey. The tech squinted at him, but seemed to take the act at face value.

“Fine. Just give me a heads-up when you’re done so I can get in here. And don’t fucking undo any of those straps, got it? They’re there for your protection!” Alex gave him a grave nod and the tech turned and strode out of the room. As soon as the door snicked shut behind him, Alex turned and stared wide-eyed at an obviously unrepentant Michael. Alex removed his gag again, bending close to his ear before speaking.

"If you tell anyone about this, I will have you thrown into solitary for a week," Alex threatened in a low voice. It felt empty because he knew if Michael told anyone, his father would find him and put him in a hole in the ground. There was something about Michael's offer though… a feeling between them that made Alex sure the risk would pay out.

"I won't tell," Michael replied quietly. There was a sadness in his voice that pierced Alex's heart and he moved to be able to see Michael's eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, each searching for something needed but fragile and better left silent between them. Alex ended their silent back and forth by bending down and pressing their lips together. It was sweet and chaste, a seal for their understanding, and when he pulled back he felt like their bargain was solidly struck. Quietly, Alex moved the extra chair from the corner under the broken camera and wedged it under the doorknob. When he turned back to face Michael, he immediately began to unbutton his shirt enough to pull it and his undershirt off over his head. He leaned against the table to tackle his boots, pants, and prosthesis. With an embarrassing lack of grace, Alex proceeded to climb onto the gurney and straddle Michael's thighs.

Michael's eyes were wide and darkened with lust as they scanned over Alex’s naked body. He looked hungry in a way Alex was all too familiar with. Alex noted to his smug relief that Michael’s cock had gotten half hard at his striptease and was growing firmer beneath him. Without a word, Alex reached over and grabbed the lube bottle, squeezing some into his palm before slicking Michael's cock with it. The friction made Michael groan quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as Alex stroked him with a firm hand and brought him to full hardness. Alex’s own cock was beginning to throb and ache with neglect, but he didn't want to touch himself too soon. The risk of the situation was turning him on almost as much as Michael beneath him, his hips flexing into Alex’s grip in aborted thrusts.

Alex let go of Michael and lifted onto his knees. Keeping eye contact with Michael, he took his still slick hand and reached behind himself to push two fingers into his hole. It was almost too much too soon, but Alex liked the burn and needed this part to go quick. He didn’t realize his eyes had slipped shut, unable to concentrate on anything but the stretch and pressure of his digits as he rocked his hips back and twisted his fingers to make the stretch go faster.

"Oh shit," Michael breathes out beneath him. Alex opened his eyes and pinned Michael with a hard stare before swooping down to kiss him again. This kiss wasn't sweet. It wasn't chaste or simple. Alex licked at the seam of Michael's mouth once and barely gaves the other man time to accept him before he was pushing his way in. If Michael was hungry, Alex was fucking starving. Not that he’d gotten a taste, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop.

Michael moaned into their kisses, his body shifting restlessly, claiming as much movement as he could against the restraints.

"Shhhh," Alex warned, breaking their kiss. He shuffled forward enough to be able to reach behind himself and grasp Michael's cock. Goosebumps broke out over his skin as he pressed the blunt tip to his wet hole. Biting his lip, Alex forced his body to relax and accept Michael's generous girth. It was almost too much and after a few slow drags where he only managed to shove a few inches at a time into himself, Alex pulled off and added more lube. The next time he pushed down, it was like his body just accepted Michael and made room accordingly. Both he and Michael let out harsh, gutted breathes when Alex managed to fully sheath Michael inside him.

"Fucking christ," Alex groaned, trying to stay quiet but already feeling his body scream for him to start fucking himself stupid on the perfect cock stuffed in him. Beneath him, eyes squeezed shut, Michael nodded and Alex watched as his hands and fingers flexed in an echo of Alex's own need to move. Slowly, Alex began to rock his hips and get his first exquisite taste of the pull and push of Michael's cock lighting up his insides. Wrapping a hand around his cock, Alex noted how wet and messy his shaft was from the leaking precum drooling out of the tip. He used that wetness to ease the way as he stroked himself lightly in time with the undulations of his hips.

"Please," Michael gasped out beneath him. "Oh fuck, please."

Alex knew what he wanted, wanted it himself, but also knew they made a plan. Carefully, he reached over to the instrument table and picked up the plastic cylinder end of the milking machine. Inside it was a PVC sleeve that molded itself around the recipient's penis once the suction was started. Then, according to the dials on the machine, the sleeve would go taut and relax with a rhythmic click and hiss, effectually sucking off the wearer until he blew his load and the sample collection sensor went off. The load would then be scraped from the inside of the sleeve and collected into a tube to be given to the lab. Alex knew all of that, had the technical knowledge down pat in his brain, but was unprepared for the foreign feeling of sliding his own cock into the smooth, cool fabric of the milker cylinder. With a barely trembling hand, he pressed the ‘on’ switch and waited for the first pull.

He didn't know what he’d been led to expect, but it wasn't the vice-like, fluid pressure that made his hips hitch forward instinctively to get more of that tight clutching feeling. Alex felt a moan get dragged past his lips, echoed by Michael as he began to fuck forward against the milker and then back onto Michael's cock.

"Oh god," Alex moaned brokenly, curling forward over the cylinder in helpless abandon. The angle pressed Michael's cock hard against his prostate, and Alex indulged himself in a few shallow thrusts that brushed the head of Michael's cock against that spot over and over. His body felt like it was getting expertly rung out, and he now understood why there wasn't more of a revolt against the collection process by the alien captives. They were getting an expert blow job by a robot on the government's dime.

When Alex could drag his eyes open, he looked down and saw his own helpless pleasure echoed on Michael's face. His lips were parted in an "oh" of surprise, eyebrows drawn together like he wasn't sure if he was in pain or in ecstasy, and sweat beaded his hairline and neck. He looked like a ravaged Greek demigod laid bare at Alex's whim. The sight made Alex’s body shudder with a wave of lust for the alien beneath him. He didn’t know if it was because he was alien or because Alex was in the midst of intense pleasure, but he wanted to never leave in that instant.

"Fuck, look at you," Alex couldn't help saying. He pushed back, arching and reaching until he could brace his hands on Michael's legs to grind back down in his prick. The cylinder jut from his groin obscenely between them, position change not effecting its mechanical precision. Michael opened his eyes and stared up at Alex, a look if wonder on his face.

"I wanna touch you," he said, voice quiet enough to almost get lost under the hum of the machine. Alex smirked down at him, feeling fuck drunk and bold at his naked worship.

"Where do you wanna touch me? Tell me," Alex demanded, voice breathy.

"I want to touch your neck. I want to twist my hands in your hair and put you where I want you," Michael said, voice serious like he was in a confessional booth telling his sins. Alex hummed in response, sitting up straight and moving his hands up his chest to his neck and then into his hair.

"Like this?" Alex asked, smiling at the covetous, feral look on Michael's face as Alex acted out his words. He let his eyes slip shut so he could imagine that instead of restrained, Michael was simply dictating his desires to him.

"Yeah. Like that," he agreed. His eyes trailed lower and he began talking again. "I want to rake my nails down your chest. I want to pinch and suck your nipples, abuse your tits until you're begging for me to stop."

Alex let his hands fall from his hair down to his chest. He raked his fingers down the front of his pecs and stomach, not stopping until he was almost at his pubes. He slid his fingers back up to his nipples and plucked at them with savage, twisting, pinching fingers. The zings of pain shot down to his groin, where his balls were drawing up tight to his body, the finish line in sight for him. The rhythm of the machine picked up and Alex opened his eyes in time to see Michael looking intently at the knots that controlled speed and intensity.

"Where else?" Alex gasped, the increased setting of the machine making him tip forward to brace himself with his hands on Michael’s chest, so he could fuck himself harder onto Michael's cock in time. He could see in Michael's face he was getting close too, trying to hold out until Alex busted.

"After I come in your ass, I want you to sit on my face and let me eat you out. I want to taste you and me on my tongue. I wanna watch you squirm, oversensitive and mewling as I tongue fuck you into a second orgasm," Michael managed to say through a gasping, pained groan. His hips were flexing minutely under Alex, trying impotently to reciprocate the harsh pounding he was getting as Alex rode him.

"Fuck!" Alex almost yelled, his body starting to seize at the thought, thrusts going erratic as he rode through his orgasm on with his body on automatic pilot. A beeping sensor on the machine went off and the machine automatically shut itself off. Gingerly, he broke the suction around the base of his cock and slid the cylinder from his body. Feeling wrecked and still impossible full of cock, Alex looked down at Michael who was breathing hard and looking pained at the full stop of their activities. Alex gave him an evil smile when their eyes met.

"Your turn, cowboy," he said. Michael looked at him in momentarily confusion until Alex pulled off his cock with groan. He felt so empty without Michael inside him. He felt like his ass was gaping where his legs were still spread on either side of Michael’s hips. He twisted around and slid the used cylinder over Michael's hard-as-nails prick. Machine in place, Alex reached over and flipped on the machine again, overriding the collection sensor and making sure to turn up the speed to bring Michael off swiftly. He turned back to Michael's face, watching him go from shock to stricken within seconds. Alex bent low, resting some of his body weight on top of Michael’s chest, and mouthing at his jaw and neck. He felt the vibrations of whimpers and quiet moans against his cheek as he nibbled at Michael's ear.

"Once you cum in the cylinder, I'm going to make sure you get a taste of us before I dump the sample due to compromise by a foreign body. That means we'll have to do this again tomorrow. And tomorrow? I'm going to fuck your throat while the machine gets a clean sample from you," Alex whispered into his ear. Michael made an unmistakable noise of release, a tight, gasping sob as his cock was milked dry. The selection alarm chimed again and Alex turned off the machine with an easy flick of his wrist.

Good to his word, Alex twisted and broke the suction of the cylinder. Because of the double load, when he moved it off Michael's cock, he could see their combined spunk coating Michael's length in a pearlescent sheen. Inspired, Alex bent down and dragged his tongue down the length of Michael's softening cock. He turned back to Michael, dumping the cylinder haphazardly onto the instrument cart before sealing his lips over Michael's. Michael opened his mouth hungrily, tongue tangling against Alex's and greedily stealing all traces of their combined flavor for himself. When they broke apart, Alex smiled down at Michael for a moment, giving him one last kiss, before moving off of him and the gurney.

He once again leaned against the side of the gurney and put himself back together. By the time he was completely re-outfitted in his fatigues, his mind was once again on business. He turned and pushed the gag back into Michael's mouth before he could say anything. Michael stared at him in confusion until Alex grabbed a hand towel and laid it over Michael's lap to cover his nudity. He gave Michael a sad smile before he went and removed the chair from in front of the door and stuck his head out into the corridor.

"Captive is ready for transport back to the pen," he called to the guards on duty. He backed away when they came back in the room and unlocked the wheels of Michael's gurney. Michael stared at him in something like betrayal as he was wheeled away. After he was gone, Alex washed out the cylinders sleeve and wrote a note on Michael's chart to schedule him for a second collection the following day.

Alex wasn't sure how he felt about what had just happened. Now, in the quiet of the empty collection room, he wondered if it had been an elaborate dream. He wondered if he'd wake up soon in his own bed, tired and disoriented and dreading another day of work at Caulfield. He also couldn't deny that what had just happened definitely wasn't a dream if the ache in his muscles and the slick feeling between his ass cheeks were to be trusted. He felt guilty for judging Kyle’s lasciviousness when he couldn’t stop himself from riding his captive like a rodeo bull. Was he as bad as the other guards thought, or was it just Michael? Alex couldn’t imagine doing anything that had just happened to another captive or man that he knew.

One thing was for certain, he was already in too deep to want to stop. He hadn’t come that hard since he’d learned where his prostate was. He just didn’t know how he was going to schedule in more time for him and Michael to see each other after tomorrow. With a sigh, he left the room and went back to his office to think through his actions. A flask of bourbon waited in his desk drawer to help him find the answers.

[novelconcepts]

anything that involves freckles. go nuts

Gonna go ahead and double up on a recent request of @scavenger-rey‘s, while we’re at it. Just for giggles.

Jamie has a surprising number of freckles. Not that it’s Dani’s business what hidden secrets are stamped into her skin. Not that Dani needs to be looking at her skin at all. 

Not that she can help it, either, with Jamie doing things like this. 

“You look warm, Miss Clayton,” Hannah points out, depositing a tray upon the little table with an arch smile. “Perhaps you’d like to take a leaf out of our groundskeeper’s book?”

Dani shoots her a sharp look, remembering just in time two very important details: one, that she has only known Hannah for two months, and therefore is not quite at the slapping at her arm in frustration stage of friendship; and two, that Hannah does not know what’s going on in her head every time Jamie’s around.

Hannah might suspect with the certainty of a particularly clever detective breaking down a fourth-grader’s criminal activity, but she does not know, and that has to count for something.

“She doesn’t--usually do this.” Heaven help her, was that her voice? Her voice, which is generally high and quick and never tinged with that particularly raw shade? 

“She does when it’s hot enough.” Hannah sounds entirely unimpressed. “Every time, I have to spend half the afternoon explaining to Flora why she’s required to keep all her clothes on.”

Someone should probably have that talk with Jamie, Dani thinks wildly. Someone should definitely explain to Jamie, in no uncertain terms, how dangerous it is for her to be waltzing around the grounds in overalls and a sports bra, her hair pulled out of her face. Someone should definitely get across to Jamie how it is utterly distracting, and not the least bit professional for someone like Dani--who is a co-worker, who is meant to be keeping children out of trouble, and has somehow found it’s much harder to keep herself out of it instead--to deal with.

“Water,” Hannah advises. “Before you keel over. Would you like me to tell her it’s making you uncomfortable?”

Judging by the raised brow, the tilt of Hannah’s smile, the barely-restrained note of amusement in her voice, it’s clear she knows uncomfortable isn't exactly the word. Dani shakes her head. 

“No. I’m. I’m fine.”

“Ah,” Jamie says cheerfully, right on cue. “Hannah, my love, you are a godsend.”

She’s just there, pressed nearly to Dani’s back, reaching over for a glass of ice water. She’s there, and her skin is rosy with the lightest sunburn, and Dani thought Hannah was being cheeky about the whole keeling over jab, but on second thought--

“All right, Poppins?” Jamie’s free hand has wound around her forearm, she realizes. Jamie is looking at her with mild concern, she realizes. Probably because she is quite literally swaying in place.

“Hot,” she croaks. There are freckles on Jamie’s hand, too--and wrist, splashed at random up her arm. There are more than a few on the bare curve of her shoulder. She’s still mentally tallying them up when Jamie presses her gently toward a chair. 

“Didn’t dress for it,” she observes, looking Dani over with worried eyes. “Should take off that jumper before it kills you.”

Have to keep it on, Dani thinks nonsensically--though, it’s true, she had dressed for the gray of this morning, not the heatwave the afternoon has become. Still. Have to keep it on, and maybe add a few more layers, besides, because she can’t let herself linger on what she might look like to Jamie otherwise.

Can’t linger on how Jamie’s eyes might drift over her skin if she were to strip down to a tank top and shorts. Can’t linger, worst of all, on how it might feel if Jamie were to pull her aside--

“Poppins?” Jamie is waving a hand up and down in front of her face. “Right, enough of this. With me.”

There’s a gentle command in her voice Dani finds herself following without thinking. She catches herself taking two steps away from the chair, pauses, stands there looking helplessly back at Hannah.

“I,” Hannah says magnanimously, “think I can manage the children. Go.”

“C’mon,” Jamie adds, and now her hand is in Dani’s somehow, her fingers tightening around Dani’s like this is the most normal use of her body. She gives a light pull, and Dani is suddenly trailing along at her heels, trying desperately not to stare at the back of her neck, the skin shining up from the break in denim at her side. 

Freckles, she thinks wildly. I shouldn’t know she has freckles. 

“You still with me?” Jamie is tugging her, she registers, toward the greenhouse. She gives a shaky nod. “Good. Would hate to have to give you mouth to mouth.”

“You don’t give mouth to mouth for sunstroke,” Dani replies in a voice she still doesn’t recognize. Jamie sends a smile over her shoulder.

“No? My mistake.”

It’s not flirting, Dani tells herself. Jamie is her co-worker, one who keeps to herself and doesn’t have any reason at all to flirt. Jamie is just being kind, worrying over her now, because Dani’s gone and lost her mind over skin and freckles and the spot at the back of Jamie’s neck that leads her brain helplessly into wonder what that tastes like territory--

“In,” Jamie says, gesturing to the door of the greenhouse. “Got a spare set of clothes you can borrow.”

“I have clothes,” Dani points out. Jamie laughs.

“I’ve seen your clothes. They’re not going to help today.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” This is good. This, a mild flush of irritation, distracts nicely from the way Jamie looks crouching beside a trunk Dani’s never noticed beneath one of the tables. 

It almost distracts from the way Jamie looks up at her, a teasing grin playing around her mouth. 

“They’re well and good,” she says, “for carting around after the little beasts. Here. Got nothin’ in pink, ‘m afraid.”

She’s holding up a white t-shirt with the sleeves shorn off--the frayed threads at the shoulders suggest Jamie cut them free herself, possibly in the middle of a workday--and a pair of denim shorts. Unable to find a polite method of declining, Dani accepts. 

“I’ll...just go up to the house to change, I guess--”

“Nah.” Jamie twists around, hands in her pockets, making a point of gazing off in the opposite direction. “Silly to waste the time. Go on, before Hannah thinks I’ve lured you off to commit a murder...”

It’d be kinder, some part of Dani thinks. Standing with Jamie’s clothes clamped against her chest, sweat creeping down the back of her neck, watching Jamie tip her head back and whistle, is entirely painful. 

Particularly when Jamie, evidently registering the lack of rustling fabric, chances a glance over her shoulder and adds, “Unless you need help there, Poppins?”

Dani grimaces. Jamie grins. For a moment, she thinks the rest of the afternoon will become this: staring at one another in a sweltering greenhouse, Jamie watching her like she knows exactly what Dani has been trying so hard not to think about lately.

Jamie smiling like she’s got no problem with Dani counting up all those freckles. 

“Okay, okay, turn around.” She heaves a sigh, waiting for Jamie to rotate back before hauling the sweater over her head. It’s impossible to deny the relief that floods in the minute she’s free of it, and how much better Jamie’s shirt feels against her sticky skin. 

The same cannot be said for the shorts.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she says before she can stop herself. They are, admittedly, nearly the same height and close enough in build for most things--but does Jamie really wear these? 

“Only when it’s this fuckin’ hot,” Jamie says, still facing the other way. Dani closes her eyes. “Ah, you didn’t mean to say that part out loud, did you?”

“Just--they’re so--” They’re not shorts, she thinks, trying to tug down the hem. They’re like two tiny squares of fabric haphazardly stitched together. The pockets are longer than the pants themselves, for Christ’s sake. “You wear these around people?”

“Just the ones I like,” Jamie says idly, and Dani hates herself a little for being disappointed she’s never seen them before. 

“I can’t face Hannah like this, she’ll laugh herself sick.”

Jamie, at last, twists at the waist. Her eyes drift down Dani’s frame, her lips parting slightly. 

“They, um. Feel less short when they’re on me.”

Dani is going to combust, and then there will be nothing to worry about. No freckles. No shorts. Certainly not the drag of Jamie’s eyes up her legs. Dani combusts here and now, and gets out of all of it almost painlessly.

“No, hey.” Jamie is closing the gap between them, reaching out. Her hands find Dani’s, prying her clawing fingers away from the hem of the shorts. “If you feel weird, you can put your jeans back on. Was only trying to...to help.”

Her voice has gone weirdly slack, Dani registers. Weirdly breathy. Her eyes are still wide, still fixed on Dani’s legs, a color rising in her cheeks that has little to do with her sunburn. 

“What?” Dani asks--less because she wants to know, and more because she can’t stand not knowing. Jamie’s fingers are soft around her own, her breath seeming to hitch in her chest.

“Nothing. You, ah. Have freckles.” Jamie gives her head a shake, blinking rapidly. Her hands fall away from Dani’s. “Never noticed before.”

She’s staring at Dani like she’s never seen her before, and Dani suddenly wonders what courage would look like in this sweltering room. If it would look like hooking a hand around the strap of Jamie’s overalls. If it would look like pulling Jamie in. Letting Jamie press her back against the nearest table. Letting Jamie’s fingers trace up beneath the hem of these ludicrously-short shorts. 

Courage, she thinks, would taste like sweat and mint, like freckles mapped under a curious tongue. It would sound like Jamie’s voice muffled against her neck, the snarl of a zipper lowering in an otherwise-silent jungle of glass and greenery, the thump of a shirt tossed recklessly to the ground--

“Right,” Jamie says, and swings back a step. Her smile is sitting crookedly on her lips, a funny little tilt that makes her look younger, somehow. “I should--should get back to work. Just. Just toss ‘em wherever.”

Courage, Dani thinks, wanting so badly to grasp her shoulder as she turns. She could. She could close her fingers around nearly-bare skin and sink her mouth against the back of Jamie’s neck. She could slide a hand up Jamie’s stomach, pull her backward, feel her tremble under a hungry kiss tattooed to the freckles at her nape. 

She could. 

If she were just a little braver. 

But Jamie is already walking away, one hand tousling her hair nearly out of its bun. Jamie is already walking away, faster than Dani’s ever seen her walk anywhere. 

You, ah. Have freckles, she’d said in a voice like a woman dreaming. Dani bites her lip. 

The shorts, she thinks, could have their uses after all.

[captainmarkone]

Chapter Two. characters: ransom drysdale x reader. warnings: none (for now), slow burn type of thing. summary: Hugh Drysdale is known for being a well known playboy; the only son of real estate mogul Linda Drysdale, the oldest grandson of famed Author and Publisher Harlan Thrombey. Not knowing what real love is, not knowing where and who to get it from until he meets someone... something that could possible change him and his life all together. But it'll take a real good woman to do so. a/n: second installment of this Ransom fic. I hope you all love it. if you see mistakes, no you didn't. this was written on my phone and not thuroughly proofread. whoopsie.

Homecoming Dance was just around the corner and I was the lucky member of staff to be a chaperone. Voluntold as they like to say. I had no choice but to agree. Not like I had anything planned for the weekend, especially Saturday night.

“Tickets will be sold at the day of the dance. And if any one has someone that would like to volunteer for the dance to be a chaperone, please contact me or the principal or even Mr. Levinson,” I said, putting my number up with the principal and Mr. Levinson number.

“Please let them call or text us before Friday, please!” I expressed, the bell ringing. Dismissing the class, I smiled at each one and waved them off.

Sighing softly, I sat down at my desk and sat back against the chair. Spinning slowly toward the board and looking at the names of those that needed to turn in late assignments.

“I’ve gotten four calls in the last hour,” Ari said, sitting at a student desk that was in front of mine. His hands gripping the front of it as he sat. He chuckled softly. “All of them women. But I did say yes to all of them,” he muttered, leaning back against the seat.

I smiled at him, shaking my head as I watched him. “Well aren’t you so lucky. It must be because they think their kids' teacher is very attractive. I haven’t gotten any!” I said, soon hearing my phone vibrate on my desk. Scared me too. “Looks like my luck is about to change!”

“Hello?” I answered, a familiar voice on the other end. “Hu- Ransom! Hi there. You’d like to…. Chaperone? Didn’t peg you for the chaperone type. For a high school homecoming dance,” I teased, I could see Ari lifting his brow.

“Yeah well, I don’t have much to do on a Saturday night,” Ransom said. He did, but he’d much rather get to know her.

“Well, I’ll put your name down. I’ll even use ‘Ransom’ as preferred name,” I said, smiling as I wrote his name down. “Great. Saturday. 5 pm. Sound good?” I confirmed and he answered ‘yes’. “See you then,” I said, hanging up.

Ari looked at me, smiling wide as he let out a soft chuckle. “Was that… you flirting?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“What? No. He’s cute but no. Agh, maybe. He drove up next to me when I was walking to my car. Said he wanted to make sure I got in my car safely,” I confessed, smiling softly to myself. My eyes glanced at Ari, who was just watching me thoughtfully.

“Seems he might think you’re cute too,” he said, soon standing to his feet and smiled softly. “See you Saturday,” he said, knocking his knuckle on my desk before exiting.

SATURDAY NIGHT --

The weekend had finally rolled by. Every student telling me about their dresses, suits, and other forms of attire they were planning to wear. Some even showing me pictures. I was happy my students were excited to show me, that they liked me enough to share.

Having been sent home to get dressed, I took the opportunity to look nice. After all, Ransom was going to appear. If he did. Shit. He might’ve changed his mind. Decided chaperoning was something dumb to do on a Saturday night.

‘Why are you even worried? Why do you even care? Jeez,’ I thought, shaking my head. The thoughts fleeting as I applied my mascara. Doing the final touches to the natural looking make up I decided to do.

I had dressed in the knee length red dress that had a floral pattern and the sleeves weren’t that long; cutting at the middle of my upper arms, strings tied into a not so perfect bow.

I slipped on my nude, two inch heeled sandal. The one that didn’t have the strap that wrapped around my ankle. Looking myself in the mirror, I fixed my dress. Leaving my bed room, I made it to the front door of my apartment. Unlocking the door and grabbing my small purse in the process. I walked out and made my way down the stairs, happy I only lived on the second floor.

Getting into my car, immediately locking the door, I started it up and leaned against the seat while pulling on my seatbelt.

I made to the school in time, an hour before the gym doors opened for the dance. Getting out of my car, I locked it and rounded the back of my car when I heard someone say my name. Walking up next to me, Ransom slowed. Wearing a tan overcoat, a Persian scarf, and cable knit sweat underneath with slacks for his pants. His shoes a light brown to tie in the tan jacket. I smiled at him, while his lips turned up slightly.

“Wow. You clean up very nice,” I said, smiling warmly. “Wasn’t sure if you were actually gonna show up.”

He tilted his head at me, as if I was joking.

“Only because… who really wants to spend their Saturday night… chaperoning a high school dance,” I explained further, walking with the male toward the entrance of the gym.

“Wasn't too sure, either. Dances were never my thing unless I had a hot date and we hooked up behind the bleachers on the track field,” Ransom said, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched me. His eyes scanning me.

“Well, I definitely owe you one for coming. We only have you and another guy chaperoning today. Most are women. I was voluntold to be here,” I said, chuckling softly as we approached the gym. One of the yearbook committee kids at the table with another person; assuming someone to keep her company.

They greeted me, and I smiled at them. “Hi Maxine. Hi Danny,” I said.

Ransom opened the door for me and I walked in. He was soon beside me again, as if not wanting to get lost. “Don’t worry. It’s very hard to lost in a school like this,” I teased, walking to the large group of women that surrounded the refreshment table.

“All right, I’ll be giving everyone their duties! I have about ten of you. This is great! Oh, hey!” Ari was speaking to the group, waving at me when he saw me. “About time!” He exclaimed, eyes shifting to the male beside me.

“You must be Hugh Drysdale,” Ari said, “I’m Ari Levinson. Welcome!” He continued, looking at the list on his clipboard. I could have sworn I told Ari to call Hugh Ransom.

“It’s Ransom! Don’t call me Hugh,” Ransom said, smirking softly as he eyed Ari that soon shifted his gaze toward me then back to Ransom.

“Sorry man. Ransom. Got it,” Ari confirmed, and I nudged Ransom softly. I smiled and I could see his lips slowly turning into a smile.

Calling my name, Ari said, “I want you and Ransom at the refreshment areas. Around an hour in, we’ll rotate so everyone can get a chance to dance if they’d like to. Vilma,” he continued, telling the other ladies where they’d be.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” Ransom said as we walked around the table to set up the cups of punch. I smiled, letting a small chuckle escape my lips.

“Thank you,” I said, filling the last cup that would fit on the table.

The lights soon dimmed, the DJ playing a song as kids started to flow the gymnasium. Some dancing to the fast beats of the new music, some throwbacks being played. I continued to fill cups of punch, Ransom busy at the side of me and handing out plates of food. From the stage, I saw Ari come up to the mic. “Staff and volunteers, time to switch,” he said, telling the DJ to keep up the good work.

Ransom and I moved to the side as Vilma and Jackie took over the table. We covered the exit nearest us and that’s when a random slow song began to play.

“Wanna dance?” Someone said, and I looked to my left to see a student. Hand extended. “Why it’d be an honor!” I exclaimed, taking it and glancing at Ransom. Making my way to the dance floor with Frankie, I rested my hands on his shoulders as he didn’t quite have a growth spurt just yet. His hands rested in between my hips and waist.

“Sorry kid, but imma cut in. She owes me a dance,” Ransom interjected, hand on the kids shoulder. The kid nodded, stepping to the side and that was when Ransoms moved from my hip to his arm wrapping around my waist, his free hand taking mine and letting my other hand wrap around his neck.

“Why, Hugh. Didn’t know you could dance,” I said, smiling softly as I watched his features lighten.

“Hmm. Dancing is fun when you have someone beautiful as your partner,” he said, and I had to shake my head. Eyes looking into his, hand wrapped in his, my other playing at the hairs at the nape of his neck. It was a surreal moment.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Ari in the corner of the gym. Eyes locked on me. When I made eye contact with him, he smiled and looked away to tend to a task the he saw on his clipboard.

The song soon ended, and we drilled our movements. Eyes staring into his, I licked my lips nervously as his hand moved from my frame and his hand cupped my cheek.

“I don’t know… why or how, but for some reason I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he muttered, eyes slowly drifting to my lips.

“I know your type Ransom Drysdale. And I will not be played,” I whispered, slowly moving from his trance. “One more dance?” I asked, continuing to play with his hair. He nodded in agreement, pulling me close.

From what I research about Ransom was that he was a playboy, a womanizer. Why was he so sudden in wanting to kiss me (at least I assumed he wanted to)? To be near me? To have his mind filled with thoughts of me? It burned in the back of my head. My guard was up, and it would never come down around Ransom. Not now, anyway.

[five-rivers]

Secret Saturday prompt? Van Rook ties up and gags Zak then stuffs him into a satchel.

Zak was skilled.  He was knowledgeable.  He was powerful.  

He was also twelve, and, despite his best efforts, not terribly tall.  

As such, it wasn’t terribly difficult for Van Rook to knock him out.  Now, separating him from his family and getting the drop on him?  That was difficult.  Whatever other cryptid abilities the kid had, enhanced senses had to be one of them.  Or perhaps some form of ESP.  

Anyway, one dart to the shoulder, and Zak was out.  Van Rook, with skills honed over a lifetime, soon had him disarmed, securely tied, gagged, and in the bag.  He put the boy’s weapons into a separate bag.  He wasn’t like his ridiculous ex-apprentice, who’d leave the potentially valuable magic weapon in the bag with the magic cryptid child.  

Feh.  

Now. Delivery. Most amateurs would expect this to be the safe easy part. Not so. In fact delivery, particularly to first-time clients, was the most dangerous part of the job. Van Rook couldn't count the times a client tried to kill him to get out of paying for bounties or services rendered.

He couldn't suppress a smile at the memory of the last man who tried to backstab him in that particular way.

He set the plane down lightly, next to the ruins. Well, if this client didn't pay up, there were plenty of other people who would. This particular guy just happened to sit at the sweet crossroads of 'good pay' and 'no apocalypse.'

There was a faint squeak from the bag strapped into the seat next to him. He raised an eyebrow. Kid should have been asleep for another half an hour.

He might have to add resistance to drugs to the list of freaky things about the kid.

He reached over and pulled the zipper down slightly. A pair of faintly glittering amber eyes stared up at him from a flushed face. The kid tried to mutter something around the gag, but failed to produce anything intelligible. Van Rook pulled the zipper back up. This was met with a muffled shout and thrashing.

No skin off Van Rook's back if the kid decided to exhaust himself.

Calmly, he went through his post-flight check before unstrapping the bag and making his way off the small plane.

His client was already standing there, on the grass, sweating and mopping his forehead with his sleeve despite the relatively cool weather, flanked by bodyguards. His face lit up when he saw Van Rook, and even more when he saw the bag.

"You have it, then," he said, excited.

"Of course," said Van Rook.

"Well, hand it over, then," he said, reaching.

Van Rook held up his hand. His client stopped with an affronted look on his face. "First," said Van Rook. "Money. Second, I have, maybe, one, two scruples. You say you need him to control this cryptid? Show me the cryptid."

"Scruples?" said the man, taken aback. "You were advertised-"

"Yes, yes, I know, everyone thinks they want this, this man with no scruples. But they don't. They trick themselves, see? A man with no scruples... a man with no scruples, is a man who wouldn't think twice about just taking the money any way he could. You see?"

The bodyguards had their hands on their weapons. Posers. Van Rook had never taken his off.

"... and, the other scruple?"

Van Rook smiled, nastily. "What do you think? I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. You tell me to sell you a twelve year old. What am I supposed to think?"

The client had gone very red in the face. "I assure you-"

"Assure me with money. And the cryptid," said Van Rook. "Words can't buy me dinner."

"Very well, then."

The man turned and waddled into the ruins. Electric lights had been strung up to illuminate the darker areas, and there was a significant amount of digging equipment. Someone had been excavating. Most likely less than legally. Van Rook wondered how long it would take the other Saturdays to find this place and mount a rescue. Not that it mattered. The hell family would cease to be his problem as soon as he was paid and away. The client got to deal with them then.

He noted the kid had gone still. Worn himself out, maybe? Or perhaps the conversation with the client had spooked him. Kid might face off against the likes of Argost, but he was still only twelve.

They climbed down several flights of stairs that ultimately terminated in a large, only half-lit cavern. However, the ligting was good enough for Van Rook to see both the massive pile of treasure and the gnarled giant that guarded it.

"A spriggan," said the client, whispering. "All this way, and we can't make the damn thing move." Then he laughed. "There's your payment, for you," he said, waving at the treasure mound.

You know what? thought Van Rook. Screw this guy.

On the other hand, this had been hard work, and he did very much want to get paid. He had expenses.

Van Rook set the bag down and unzipped it, dodging a sloppy attempt at a kick from the kid. He had to give him credit for guts and even getting into position while tied up.

Van Rook hauled him into a sitting position. The client reached down to grab his chin. And forced him to look up.

"My, his eyes really are yellow, aren't they? Except for those, he almost looks human."

The kid growled, deep in his throat. It might have been one of the few sounds available to him around the gag, but it didn't help his case. The client laughed nervously. "Of course, the disposition... haha."

Van Rook rolled his eyes. It wasn't like the client would see behind his visor.

"Now, uh, make the monster go away."

The kid continued to glare.

"I think you'll have to be more specific."

"The spriggan. The giant. Make it leave. Make it go far away."

Still nothing. No magic spooky nonsense, no glowing eyes, no screaming cryptids, nothing.

"Let me, sir," said one of the bodyguards. He leaned down and whispered something lengthy in the kids ear, one hand gripping his shoulder. As he spoke, the kid's breath grew ragged and his skin took on a sickly cast. He tried to pull away from the bodyguard (towards Van Rook, for incomprehensible reasons), but despite the man's shortcomings in the bodyguard department, he could restrain a bound preteen who was probably still recovering from a dose of knockout drugs.

When the man let go, the kid was shaking. Although, that could easily be explained by their surroundings. He'd picked the kid up in Bermuda, and he'd been dressed for it. Now, they were in Cornwall. Much colder.

"Well? Go on, then," ordered the bodyguard.

The kid tried to say something around the gag and was promptly backhanded.

"Hey, hey," Van Rook said grabbing the bodyguard's wrist when he went in for another strike. "Let's hear what he has to say, huh?"

He untied the gag and tugged it from the kid's mouth, only allowing himself a second to be disturbed by how the cloth tore against his teeth. The boy worked his jaw up and down a few times and licked his lips before he tried to speak again.

"I can't actually do what you want me to do," he said, scowling.

The client's face turned thunderous. "Excuse me?"

"Well, to begin with, I'm out of range, and even if I wasn't, my powers are pretty limited without the Claw." He looked at Van Rook with ill-disguised hope.

"I'm not giving you your magic weapon, but nice try."

The kid's face fell back into a scowl. "Beyond that, I don't know who told you my powers were mind control, but they're not." He didn't elaborate. "I can't make that spriggan leave."

"But," said the client, hands fluttering, "magic-"

The boy pulled his lips back in a snarl, revealing too-white, too-sharp teeth. "Just because it's magic doesn't mean it doesn't have rules, idiot."

The list of things Van Rook was truly scared of was short and topped by his own empty wallet and whatever was going on with Argost. Zak Saturday didn't come close. But in ten years... Well. Van Rook would be retired by then, one way or another.

And, to be frank, the kid being stubborn right now wasn't his problem either. "So," he drawled. "I brought you the kid. Where's my money?"

The client's furious expression turned meek in a heartbeat. "Well, you can see-"

"Either pay me now, or I'm leaving with my merchandise."

"But-"

"Not my problem. Pay. Me."

"Well, I-"

Across the cavern, the giant roared something that almost sounded like language.

"He'll pay you," said the kid.

"What?" chorused the adults.

"He'll pay you. The spriggan. The spiggan will pay you, if you can get these guys to go away leave him alone. Double."

Van Rook looked at the kid, then the cryptid, then the massive pile of treasure the cryptid was sitting on. He shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"You can't be serious!"

"I'm always very serious about getting paid."

.

Zak sat next to the spriggan, arms around his knees, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Van Rook had left a while ago.

"Thanks for letting me wait here with you," he said. He meant it, and the cavern really was much more pleasant once the spriggan cleaned up Van Rook's work. "Mom and Dad should pick me up any time now." He glanced at the entryway and shuddered. It wasn't like he'd never seen blood before, and it wasn't like he'd never been kidnapped before, but...

The spriggan dropped an ancient, ratty fur coat around his shoulders. He looked up with a weak smile.

"Thanks."

[cyoc49]

HIMBO Magazine: Changing Departments

*click! click! click! click!*

Derek listened to the camera flash as he sat on the side of the bed. He was currently doing a photo shoot for HIMBO magazine, a fashion and lifestyle magazine “for the modern gay male™”. Fake blood dripped against his chest - they were doing some Halloween type of shoot. But let’s be honest, the blood wasn’t the focus of the shot: it was his body. Derek had never been the best student - and his attitude certainly didn’t help - but if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was make his body look as sexy as humanly possible. Derek scoured nutrition blogs to make sure he stayed up to date on everything related to fitness, and the dedication showed itself in his beautiful, sculpted body. Sitting here with no shirt on and wearing a pair of lethally tight skinny jeans, he looked like every gay man’s wet dream. To put it simply, Derek was hot as hell; problem is, he knew he was hot at hell.

“Alright, that’s good. I think we have what we need, thank you Mr. Hale” the director said. Derek stood up and two twinkish looking assistants came over to remove the blood. Derek stood still and tried to ignore the two obviously gay men putting their hands all over his body. Derek was the kind of guy who thought all gay men were jumping at the bit for any man they can find. Doing a photo shoot for a gay magazine was certainly not his dream, but hey: a paycheck is a paycheck.

After he was cleaned off, Derek put on a t shirt and enjoyed the feeing of it stretched tight against his pecs. He slung a Louis Vuitton backpack over his shoulders. All he had to do was collect his check and he could be done with this homo magazine. Derek headed towards the doorway connecting the studio space to the rest of the offices. He turned the corner into the hallway, only to immediately crash into someone coming from the opposite direction. Papers went flying.

Derek hesitated, then reluctantly crouched down to help the man pick up his papers. As he did, the man spoke to him in a deep voice “You know, you should really watch where you’re going. People are busy around here.”

This was the remark that set Derek off. It was enough that he had done a photo shoot outside his comfort zone, and ran into someone while he was leaving, but now he was being sassed by some worker who couldn’t slow down enough to watch out for passers. Derek had had enough of this magazine. “You know,” he said, “I’m surprised. I thought you fags would be more excited to slam into other guys.”

Derek could sense the shift in mood immediately. All the workers around him who had been buzzing about immediately stopped and looked at th scene. The office had gone dead silent. As Derek looked around at all the men staring at them, the man he had bumped into finished collecting his papers and stood up, allowing Derek to finally look at him properly. Woah, this was a fine looking man. Strappingly tall and ruggedly handsome. He filled out his expensive-looking three-piece suit perfectly. His whole demeanor was one of absolute confidence. Finally, Derek realized what had happened. He hadn’t bumped into some random employee. He had knocked over and subsequently cussed out the boss of the whole place.

*Well*, Derek said to himself, *I fucked up bad this time*.

The boss was surprisingly well-composed for someone who had just been called a slur, Derek thought. As if to prove this point, the boss suddenly started laughing. It was a good, deep laugh. And when he laughed, everyone else in the building laughed along with him. Derek stared at everyone in the office in confusion. Why did they find this so funny? Was it because he’s their boss? And they were all looking at the boss with such admiration. Derek just hoped this meant the issue would blow over and he could leave before embarrassing himself sooner.

But before he could step away, he was spoken to. “I used to get really angry when people said stuff like that to me,” the boss explained in a rich, inviting voice, “now it just makes me sad, because I see all the failed potential hiding behind that language.”

Derek took a little offense to that last statement, but he knew he was in no position to argue right now. It seemed like the laughter was the all-clear the rest of the office needed to know their boss was okay, because the normal hum of voices and keyboards had returned. Now it was just him and the extremely powerful man he had pissed off. Derek broke the silence. “Look, Mr...”

“Christian Le Ma��tre” the gorgeous boss informed him, “Editor in Chief of HIMBO magazine. But everyone around here just calls me Mr. M.”

“Right. Well, uh, Mr. M, I’m really sorry about-“

“No you’re not.” Christian cut him off without missing a beat. “I’ve seen so many models like you come and go through these halls. You think you’re hot shit, and take pity on all of my boys in this office who had to take desk jobs because their bodies weren’t nice enough to let them get by on looks alone. But you know, we’re hard workers here. And we’re a close knit family.”

Derek objected to being interrupted, but as Christian talked, he felt his defenses melt away with every word. Mr. M was right, Derek realized. I am a narcissistic asshole who holds myself above others. He had never felt like this before. But everything Mr. M said just seemed right. When this gorgeous, confident man spoke, Derek realized he was speaking the truth.

“What’s your name, son?” Mr. M asked him.

“D-Derek, sir. Derek Hale.” Derek was never one stutter, but how else could he feel right now?

“Well Derek, I’m sure our lame little office doesn’t fit your macho man swagger persona, but I think you’d find that working here is pretty great.”

Was that an offer? Derek didn’t know. He had completely forgotten the context of their conversation, and indeed his reason for being in this office in the first place was slowly becoming a distant memory. All Derek knew in this moment was that he HAD to work at HIMBO. In fact, he couldn’t imagine life without working here.

Derek tried to compose a response, but was increasingly timid in the presence of this incredible man. “Well, uh, Mr. M. Perhaps if you have any opening I might be able to, uh-”

Mr. M just laughed again, and this time Derek laughed right along with him.

“Well I’m shocked to hear you change your tune so quickly, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Working here is kind of a dream job, if I do say so myself. But there’s no need to submit your CV and go through the traditional channels. I am actually prepared to offer you a job on the spot.”

Derek felt his ears burning. How lucky was he! To be offered a job at the best company on earth. He would take it immediately!

“Mr. M, it would be an honor to work for you” Derek bowed his head as he said this. Respect was important, especially for the man who was giving him a job no questions asked.

“Glad to hear it, sport! Now full disclosure, it’s a clerking position. I know, not the most exciting stuff, but here at HIMBO we believe even the most mundane work can be made magical! Of course, you would have to change a few of your behaviors to *best* fit the position. Your ego, your hot-headedness. Do you think those are things good for a clerk to have?”

“No, sir” Derek said with convocation. “Anything you want me to change, I will change.”

Christian cracked a smile, as if Derek had said something unintentionally funny. “Well I admire your commitment. It’s just, clerks are so straight-laced and serious, and you are such a character, Derek. Mr. Macho Man with a great body. Actually, I do like this body.” Christian looked Derek up and down, “I think that can stay. But as for everything else, well, I can take care of that.”

Christian stopped talking and instead just looked at Derek. The hopeful employee stood there silently, unsure of what to do. Just then, he suddenly felt a draining feeling. It wasn’t his muscles or his IQ or any of that stuff that he felt fading away, it was more like he was losing... his personality? All the pride Derek felt over his hot body and great life was disappearing. All the anger he get towards people not like him, slipping away. But it wasn’t replaced by new emotions, it wasn’t replaced by anything. Derek stopped feeling strong feelings about much of anything. He liked his job, he followed the news, but he had never had any opinions of his own. Never tried to be individual or stand out. Derek was becoming like his new favorite flavor of ice cream: vanilla.

As Derek’s personality slowly morphed him into a contender for the World’s Most Dull Man, his wardrobe changed to follow suit. His designer t shirt loosened out a bit. The sleeves grew down his arms before spouting buttons and cuffs. Buttons also sprouted down the middle, and the shirt gained a collar, becoming a basic button-up shirt. A white plaid pattern spread across the shir. At the same time, Derek felt his skinny jeans go “pah” as all the tightness shrugged out of them, changing them into (gag) regular fit pants. They lightened to gray and changed material to thin cotton, becoming work slacks. His new plaid shirt automatically tucked itself into the pants, and a brown leather belt formed around his waist, with his expensive designer sneakers morphing into brown leather dress shoes to match. The LV backpack he wore fell as one of the straps broke off, before disappearing altogether. The remaining strap lengthened and slung itself over his shoulder, and the bag itself shifted into a basic messenger bag, holding plenty of important documents and paperwork.

For a brief moment, Derek felt confusion and fear. Why were these changes happening to him? Where did his nice stuff go, and what were these boring-ass clothes replacing them? These thoughts only lasted for half a second, before Derek realized how right this was. This was his style, or more accurately his *lack* of style. Derek had never cared about trends, or getting fancy new clothes. As long as they fit him well and looked professional enough for work, that was all that mattered in Derek’s eyes. A Ross Membership Card popped into his wallet to cement this change.

Derek felt something in his pocket, and pulled out a pair of black-rimmed glasses. These were the glasses he needed to see, of course. Derek opened them up and put them on. To follow suit, his hair parted itself to the side and became thick with gel holding his new professional haircut in place.

As promised, Christian had left Derek his body, but had taken basically everything else from him. Where there had once stood an arrogant, trendy mode, there was now a walking turtleneck. Normally in cases like this, Derek would sprout new memories of his new life. But no memories came, because Derek didn’t really *have* a life. He was now a total office drone. From 9-5 he worked faithfully for HIMBO, and after that he went home and solved jigsaw puzzles until it was time for bed... except on the nights where Mr. M invited Derek to his house. Derek truly wanted nothing more from life.

Christian smiled at the new corporate boy that stood before him. “Okay I think you’ve handled the onboarding process well, Dirk. Dirk, isn’t it?”

“Yes sir.” Dirk replied matter of factly. Dirk Kent. Filing clerk for HIMBO magazine.

“Great! But there’s actually one more thing I need from you. I’m still a little raw about that comment of yours earlier, and I would hate for it to taint our working relationship with each other, so allow me to bury this hatchet.”

Christian snapped his fingers, and Dirk felt his impressive manhood shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until he heard a “pop!” sound and knew that it was no more. Poor Dirk was smooth as could be in his private areas. But he didn’t mind: being unable to orgasm helped him focus on his work. And besides, if Mr. M needed help Dirk still had two perfectly serviceable holes on him.

Christian laughed again, eliciting another laugh from Dirk. “Dirk, pal, I don’t think I have ever been happier with one of my new hires. But you know, I do seal my deals with a kiss.”

“Why thank you sir!” Dirk replied with enthusiasm, as he allowed Christian to walk over, turn up his chin, and plant a kiss on his lips. And it was the greatest kiss Dirk had ever felt. Indeed, it was the only kiss he had ever felt, but as far as kisses go it was still pretty spectacular. As Dirk stood there with his lips pressed against those of his incredivle boss, he knew there was nothing more he would want from life.

As they parted, Derek looked hopefully up at his boss “Where should I start with my work, sir?” He lived to work.

Christian smiled again. “I’ll film you in on that in a minute, but let me take you to your desk. You’ll be down in the accounting department. In fact, I think you’ll be desk neighbors with our other new hire Bartholomew! You’ll love him. A total nerd but a sweet kid regardless.” Without warning, Christian turned and walked down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything. Dirk instinctively followed him, just as he instinctively obeyed every command Mr. M gave him. Life was easier that way.

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Eight

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Eight

Back in town, the Crows were in a bar, gathered around Kaz who had spread out the blueprints to the Little Palace. Inej and Jesper were talking back and forth, trying to make the best route. Elham was quiet, scanning her eyes over the prints.

Inej finally looked up. “There’s no way in.”

Kaz nodded. “And no way out.”

Arken smiled to himself, standing up straight. “Well, I thought this plan might not work…”

Suddenly, in the back of the club, the acrobat fell from the top of the silks she was at, slamming onto the floor, the crowd around the stage gasping. The Crows all turned to look, trying to figure out what happened, but Arken just smirked, looking down at the table.

---

It had been a few minutes, Arken had scampered off somewhere. Elham was sipping her drink, leaning her weight against Jesper, who was sitting on the stool next to her.

Inej sighed, turning to Kaz, who looked as annoyed as ever. “Got any plans up your sleeve?”

He barely even looked in her direction, still staring off.

Jesper pivoted towards them, knocking Elham away from him for a second, before adjusting and laying his arm around her shoulder. “I mean, Kribirsk isn’t the worst. We can open up a bar. Brew East Ravkan beer for the Westerners?”

The rest of the Crows collectively groaned. “Shut up, Jesper.”

Jesper sighed against Elham, removing his arm and turning away from her. “I miss Milo.”

Arken came bustling up to them, scaring Elham. He just pushed her to the side, and Kaz gave her a look when she slowly reached for the knife strapped to her thigh.

“Friends. This is Marko. Marko is the leader of the traveling troupe known as the Pomdrakon Players. They have been invited to perform in this year’s winter fete.”

Marko stood next to them, tears streaming down his face. Elham took a step back. “A lifelong dream.”

Arken nodded, patting his shoulder. “Yes, yes. A chance to get us inside the Little Palace. But they lost their star performer due to an unfortunate freak accident. They are in desperate need of someone with the skills to replace their star performer, and as Ketterdam’s premier talent manager, I had an idea.”

Elham smirked, turning to Inej. “You’re up, love.”

She sighed, turning to Kaz, unstrapping all of her knives from her body, placing them in Kaz’s gloved hand, following Marko to the silks.

---

The Crows watched Inej at the top of the silks, twirling and spinning. Elham was grinning, watching her graceful movements as she tumbled up and down, flipping around. She slid down, before stepping to the side, raising an arm and taking a bow.

Elham cheered next to Jesper, who was clapping and laughing.

Marko approached Inej. “The Saints must have sent you. Yes, the show will go on. Now, can you fit into this?”

He held up a colorful leotard. She hesitated, but Jesper stepped up, clapping her shoulder. “Of course she can! Those are her colors. But the thing is, Inej comes as part of a package deal.”

“No free rides. What are your talents?”

---

Jesper had shown off his mastery with his revolvers, and Marko had clapped, accepting him into the crew.

Marko turned to Elham and Kaz. “Stage is yours.”

Kaz shook his head. “I’ll make my own way.”

The attention was now on Elham. She sighed, looking around the room, before landing on one of Marko’s crew. “Sir...can I borrow your sword?”

Marko nodded to the man, and he handed her his sword. She gripped the hilt, eyeing the blade. It was nothing compared to the sword Pekka had broken and taken, but she had missed the familiar weight of a sword in her hands, and she brought it down to her side, gripping it tight.

“Jesper, hand me that bottle.”

She took the bottle from him, setting it on the table in front of her. She placed a card on top of it, taking a step back. She brought the blade close to her, before quickly swinging it out, jumping into the air, spinning and turning, striking the sword through the air.

Kaz watched her movement, entranced. It was almost as if she was dancing. She was so graceful with her movement, leaping and gliding through the air, the sword acting as another limb, like it was part of her.

She had partially climbed up the silks now, the sword tucked between her shoulder blades, strapped through her belt. Once she had the silk secured around her waist, her legs locked tight, she bent all the way back, now upside down. She used her arms to get the silk swinging a bit, propelling her body back and forth..

“Jesper, hold the bottle from the bottom. Leave the card on top.”

He hesitated, but did as she told, holding the bottle out away from his body. She swung closer to him, eyes zeroing in on the card, still upside down. She swiftly pulled the sword from its place behind her, and swung the tip over the bottle, sticking the end through the card.

She had cut off the top of the cork in the bottle in one clean slice, the card now barely impaled by the tip of the sword, straight through the center of it. She flew back through the air away from Jesper, unlocking her legs from the silk, stealthily landing in a crouched position, the sword still in her hand, held away from her body.

Placing the sword on her back once more, she did an aerial cartwheel, landing directly in front of Marko, who’s eyes were wide, as well as the rest of the crows. She pulled the sword from her belt, tossing it back to the man it belonged to, before turning back to Marko, who was smiling.

“Bravo! Can you do that in a dress? A beautiful girl at the fete with a sword strapped to her back would be a sight to see. I think I have something that’ll fit you nicely.”

Jesper snickered, and she sent him a glare. “Yes, I can wear a bloody dress. I’m going to need another sword, though.”

Kaz stepped up. “I can make that work. Are we ready, then?”

Marko eyed his new members of the crew, rubbing his hands together.

“To the Little Palace!”

---

The Crows approached the gate to the Little Palace with Marko’s crew, Kaz nowhere to be found. He had nicked a sword off a guard’s post, handed it to Elham, and gone off. Elham might’ve worried more about where he was, if her stomach wasn’t in knots from standing in front of the gates of the place she swore she would never return to.

Marko walked to the front of the crew, handing his credentials and admission papers to one of the guards. Elham fiddled with the fabric of the dress he had given her. She certainly wasn't looking forward to putting it on.

“That one is our invitation to perform, signed by the Queen.”

The guard looked unimpressed, handing the papers back to Marko. “This writ allows you access to the grounds, the main ballroom, and nowhere else. You are being employed by the Queen, you are not her guests. You are to stay together as a group at all times. No guns, knives, weapons of any kind. Punishment for violation of these rules ranges from being fired to being fired upon. Now, do we all understand these rules?”

The guard eyed Elham, seeing her hand on the hilt of her sword. “You leave that at the gate, or you don’t come in at all.”

Elham’s heart sank. She needed to get in there, the plan relied on each of the Crows fulfilling their parts.

Marko turned to her. “Sorry, love. I need the acrobat, and Jesper will come in handy with his talents some other way. You’ll just have to stay here, no offense, but your skill with that sword was about all you were good for. You can keep the dress, though.”

Saints, Kaz was going to kill her. She looked to Jesper and Inej, eyes wide, looking for help. They just gave her a look of pity, Jesper shrugging his shoulders. She would have to find some other way in.

Elham mustered up a smile. She knew she had to trick the guard, she had to pretend like she wasn’t coming back, and she hoped Jesper and Inej would catch on. “It’s alright, I’ll just go back into town, wait for you. I think I saw a friend in the city earlier, I’ll just go and find him. Have fun, good luck!”

Jesper’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. Suddenly, a man screamed, being pulled out from under their carriage.

The guard rolled his eyes. “Oh, for Saint’s sake.”

“The Sun Summoner! I just want to see her!”

Guards gathered around the man, backing him away from the gates. Elham eyed one of the guards, before realizing one of them was Kaz in a stolen uniform. He met her eyes, before slightly nodding his head, motioning for her to wait.

The guard spoke. “Post up now!”

The guards began moving into place, and Kaz headed for the gates. He pretended to scan the crowd, before muttering under his breath. “Tell me you have a way in.”

Elham huffed. There was one way she knew she could get herself in. She could easily pass herself off inside, if she could get in. Not wanting to explain any more, she just nodded. He slightly nodded back, and he, as well as Marko’s crew and the Crows, passed through the gates.

Elham sighed, knowing what she would have to do.

---

Elham ran back through town, all the way to the edge, going off into the trees. She ran for what seemed like miles, before heading down the path of a stream. Her legs were aching, her chest was burning, but she knew she was running out of time. She finally landed upon the little path she was looking for, an entrance to a cave, and she shuddered, heart beginning to race.

This was the path Baghra had taken her down when she escaped the Little Palace when she was 13. It led through a system of tunnels, all the way to Baghra’s hut.

She took a deep breath, before heading into the tunnel system, trying her best to remember which way to turn. She had already been taking too long, and she knew Kaz must be seething somewhere in the palace, wondering why she hadn’t caught up with him yet. She hadn’t lied, though, she did have a way in. She just wasn’t sure how reliable it would be.

She reached a small wooden door at the end of the tunnel system to the back side of Baghra’s room. She put her ear to the door, holding her breath. She listened for movement, and when she heard none, she opened the door.

Elham had always wondered if she would see anyone again from the Little Palace, if anyone would still remember her. She always expected to never see them again, and if she did, she thought she would be afraid.

What she didn’t expect was to break down into tears, chest heaving, the second she saw Baghra in the corner of the room, seated by a fire.

Baghra swiftly turned to Elham, now standing, alarmed and ready to attack. “Who are you? How did you get in? I’ll--”

Baghra suddenly stopped talking, taking a cautious step closer to Elham. She scanned her face for a moment, before whispering. “Elham? Saints, what are you doing here? You foolish girl, I told you to never return! You know what he plans for girls like you. Why are you here?”

Elham sucked in air, trying to calm herself. She choked out the words. “Is it true? Is she real? The Sun Summoner?”

Baghra said nothing, but the look on her face was enough of a tell.

Elham’s face fell into disbelief. “Does he plan to use her too? The Darkling?”

Baghra only nodded, eying Elham cautiously, taking a minute to speak. “Why are you here, I won’t ask again.”

“I want to get her out. Alina. I’m here to get her out, away from him.”

“You expect me to believe that? You came all the way here, alone, risking getting captured or killed, just to come save the Sun Summoner? Why?”

“That’s not what I came here for, at least at first. And I’m not alone. But I promise, I can get her out, and I won’t let anything happen to her. If she can do what everyone has been saying she can, it’s too dangerous for her to be around him. Please, you have to get me in there, I have to help my friends. If something happens to them, and I’m not there to help--”

Elham let out a sob, knees beginning to buckle.

“Quiet, child, I believe you. Tell me, have you been practicing? Your powers?”

Elham nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Yes. I only do it alone, though, it’s still hard to control once I first start. I didn’t want anyone to know about my abilities, so I only ever practiced at night. I think I’ve gotten a lot better, though. Certainly more dangerous, if not anything else.”

Baghra nodded, before raising her hands above her head, and swooping them down in one fast motion. The room filled with darkness, and the fire went out. Elham gasped, unable to see a thing. The only thing she could make out in the room now was Baghra’s voice.

“Then prove it to me.”

“Baghra--”

“If you want me to let you go, and you want me to help you, prove to me you can do this.”

Elham curled her fingers into a fist, tears stinging at the corner of her eyes. She was scared. She was dangerous. But she had to do this, she had to get into the palace. She took a deep breath, slowly raising her hands. She felt the power flowing through her, reaching her fingertips, and in one quick motion, she flicked her wrists towards where the fireplace was.

A flame erupted from her fingertips, the flame flying through the air, landing in the fireplace. The logs went up in flames, and Baghra could once again see Elham through the dim light. Elham gasped, before flicking her wrists again, extinguishing the flames in her palms.

Baghra scanned her face for a moment, pondering. “You’ve learned quickly I see. Lots of potential. Shame you had to leave here so young...I’ll let you go to your friends, and get the Sun Summoner out. But Elham, if you see him tonight, promise me you’ll go. I’ve already lost Alina to him, don’t let him pull you in too.”

Elham swiftly nodded, reaching a hand out for Baghra’s. “I would never help him, Baghra, I just want to help my friends, make sure they get out safe. And Alina, I’ll get her out too. He may not need me, but he needs her, and I won’t let him have her. Please, tell me what to do.”

“Alright, child. Put on that dress, then, you need to blend in.”

Baghra dug around in one of the boxes in the room, pulling out a blue kefta with red stitching. “I was going to give this to you one day. It’s a little small, just put it on and wear it until you get inside. The Grisha here know every Summoner by their face, they’ll know you aren’t from here. Wear the kefta to get past the guards at the back entrance, and take it off immediately inside. Go to the ballroom, find your friends.”

Elham nodded, quickly changing. The dress was long, the fabric draping perfectly over the curves of Elham’s body. It was a bright blue, a similar color to the kefta she had shrugged on top of it, and fastened into place.

Baghra gave a nod of approval. “Go, you don’t have much time...and Elham? I’m glad I got to see you again.”

Elham gave her a small smile, the pit in her stomach lessening. “I’m happy I got to see you too. I missed you, I missed this. I certainly don’t miss the rigorous training, or the Darkling constantly looming, but this was just about as close to a family as I had ever gotten. Now I’m going to go help the one I currently have. Thank you, Baghra.”

Elham gave her a quick nod, and raced out the hut door to the side entrance of the palace.

---

A/N - i don't love this chapter, but it's setting up the next few chapters, which i'm really excited for. i'm ready to get more into elham's backstory and time at the little palace, and to get her a new sword. i'm ready for the chaos and angst of it all. sorry this chapter was a little boring and poorly written, it's kind of a filler. anyways, let me know what you thought, feel free to comment or message me with anything, and thank you for the support!

[apolloloki97]

"Worthy of Him" Mickey Milkovich x Ian Gallagher

Summary: When Mickey comes across a handsome stranger, he doesn't realize it's the man who cheated on Ian when Mickey was locked up. Caleb is going to have quite a surprise when he meets the love of Ian's life. ---- Or when Mickey meets Caleb.

Word Count: 3076

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Fuckin' Perfect" by P!nk

Note: I just love when Mickey meets Ian's exes. Also, I get really happy when Mickey defends the Gallaghers!

--------

Mickey was on his way home when he heard a string of curses that even made him stop mid-strut on the sidewalk.

At the end of the block, a handsome black man was glaring at his car, his hands on his hips as he swore. Mickey knew that look, he himself had had a similar expression on his face more than once. Weighing his options, he considered just turning the other way and going the long way home, but there was something about the man that screamed “help me” and so Mickey decided to do just that.

Besides, the poor handsome bastard clearly didn’t belong on the Southside considering how well put together he was and the decent set of wheels he was glaring at. Approaching the man, Mickey tried to gauge what was wrong with the vehicle, but it seemed as if even the owner didn’t know. “Hey man,” Mickey greeted. “Wheels busted?”

“Yeah, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with it,” the man said with a sigh as he finally turned to look at Mickey. The latter didn’t miss how the stranger did a double-take, letting his eyes scan Mickey from head to toe. Since he had come out, Mickey had been noticing male attention pointed in his direction more frequently and he couldn’t deny that it made him feel damn good about himself. Not that he would ever admit that out loud, especially to Ian.

Jealous bastard, Mickey thought to himself with a smirk that the stranger before him seemed to notice immediately. Brushing off the bedroom eyes emanating from the other man, Mickey stepped towards the car.  “Want me to take a look?” Mickey offered.

“Yeah, sure, thanks man,” the man said, gesturing for Mickey to move closer. Mickey leaned over the open hood of the car, his eyes scanning for anything outwardly wrong. As he bent over the car, the owner watched on with curiosity. “So, you a mechanic?”

“Nah,” Mickey said as he examined the battery. “My brother-in-law is. Taught me some shit,” Mickey explained. Lip had only begun to teach Mickey a bit about bikes after Mickey had helped him steal from Born Free. Mickey would never admit it to the older Gallagher brother, but he liked Lip a fair amount when he wasn’t being a total asshole. Lip was also important to Ian so Mickey made the sacrifice to “bond” with his brother-in-law whenever the occasion arose and graft theft auto just happened to be one of those occasions.

“So, you’re just in the habit of helping strangers when their car breaks down?” the man said. Mickey scoffed as he shrugged.

“Only when it breaks down on the Southside and the owner ain’t belong,” Mickey said.

“Who says I’m not Southside?” the man said playfully. Straightening up slightly, Mickey looked over at him with a knowing look.

“Trust me, I can tell,” Mickey said. Stepping back, Mickey crouched down to get a look at the grill in case anything was stuck when the bottom of his pant leg rode up slightly, exposing the holster he had strapped to his ankle along with the .22 he kept on him at all times. Iggy called it a “pussy gun”, but with being on parole, Mickey couldn’t risk always carrying his larger piece and he was still paranoid that the cartel would catch up with him eventually. The owner of the car noticed it immediately, his brows rising.

“You a cop or something?” he asked, gesturing to the exposed holster. Mickey glanced down at the hardware Carl had given him before covering it back up again. He looked up at the stranger with a raised brow.

“Not exactly,” Mickey said, disgusted to be even considered to be compared to a pig.

“Right,” the man said.

“What?” Mickey asked as he stood up, leaning against the car. “Are you a cop? Gonna fuckin’ bust me for this?” he asked.

“I fight fires, not Southside thugs,” he said with a wink and Mickey laughed quickly before turning back to his task. It didn’t take him long to notice the coolant leak in the hose.

“You’re gonna need to take this to a shop, man,” Mickey said. “You got a leak here,” he said, pointing to the hose. The man approached him, getting closer to Mickey to get a better look. Mickey rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what he was doing. He was ready to shove his wedding ring up the man’s nose when his phone rang. Knowing who it was, Mickey ignored it.

Ian had been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now. Mickey knew it was because Debbie had pissed his husband off again, but he had no interest in dealing with Ginger-Gallagher drama at the moment. Ian called again shortly after the first call, the shrill of the phone in his pocket permeating the tension that was radiating off the handsome stranger next to him.

“Wife?” the man asked, gesturing to Mickey’s pocket and the obvious ignoring of the calls. Mickey then realized that the stranger had seen the ring on his left hand and just ignored it. Bastard, Mickey thought.

“Husband,” Mickey corrected, always thrilled to do so these days. It wasn’t necessarily because he was proud to be a gay man, he was just incredibly proud to be Ian Gallagher’s husband. He’d tattoo it on his forehead if he hadn’t already gotten a dumbass tattoo for his husband back when he was first locked up in the joint.

“Ignoring him?” the man pressed and Mickey was starting to become more annoyed than flattered at the forwardness of the stranger.

“Just his family drama,” Mickey said, not sure why he was telling this man anything. Then again, bitching about the Gallaghers was something that just happened no matter who you were talking to. Mickey could remember the time before he was with Ian and he would hear everyone in the community talking about how messed up the Gallaghers were. Being a Milkovich, he never thought any other family could be more dysfunctional. When he finally fell for Ian and became more familiar with the inner workings of the Gallagher family, he finally understood the chaos that everyone else saw. However, that chaos was something that he had gone on to love greatly.

They were his family.

“Yeah, that shit’s never easy, man,” the man said.

“What shit?” Mickey asked, trying to see where the stranger was getting at.

“Just that I’ve dated the crazy ones before and the baggage of their family is never worth it. No matter how good of a fuck they are,” the man said and Mickey raised his brows.

“Classy,” Mickey said with a roll of his eyes. Clearly, the man realized he had hit a nerve and was trying to backtrack when a loud shout echoed from up the street. Mickey turned just in time to see Frank stumbling out of a bar that clearly wasn’t the Alibi as the owner yelled at him. Frank, who was already drunk enough to forget where he lived, shouted obscenities back at the bar, shoving his middle fingers to the sky before falling over. “Fucking Frank…” Mickey said, exasperated.

Even before they were married, Mickey had joined in on the “find Frank” game and had had his fill of finding the drunk passed out under bridges and in sewers to last a lifetime. While he didn’t care what happened to the deadbeat, he knew that Liam and Franny would, which is why he tended to try to keep Frank from ending up in the morgue when he could.

“Seems like everyone around here knows Frank Gallagher, huh?” the stranger said, leaning against his dormant car. His arms were crossed, accentuating the forearm muscles that were hidden under the long sleeve shirt he wore. The man laughed as he saw Frank try to get to his feet but failed. Mickey cringed as Frank stumbled again, crashing into a stack of trash cans.

“Fuck,” Mickey said, knowing he was going to have to do damage control with his niece when her grandfather came home looking like he slept in a dumpster. “That’s my fuckin’ cue,” Mickey said, pushing off the side of the car.

“You all take turns looking after the city drunk, huh?” the man asked, amused by Mickey’s distaste for the derelict.

“No,” Mickey said with a sigh, “just those of us who are unfortunately his fucking family.” This seemed to shock the stranger.

“Family?” the man echoed.

“He’s my father-in-law,” Mickey said and then paused, “sort of…” Mickey was never sure what exactly Ian saw Frank as. He knew that Frank was not his biological father, but he was also the only father Ian had ever known. Regardless, Mickey was now tied to the man forever. Just as Mickey was about to pull his phone out to call Sandy to come and help him with Frank Pick-Up, the stranger said something to make him pause.

“ You married a Gallagher ?” the man said, his voice holding a hint of disbelief.

“The fuck you gotta say it like that for?” Mickey said, ready to defend his family to the man. “Yeah, I married a goddamn Gallagher, so what?”

“Which one?” the man asked and Mickey looked at him as if he was a moron.

“What do you mean, ‘which one’? There’s only one fucking gay one,” Mickey said with a scoff.

“Ian?” the man asked. “You’re Ian’s husband?” Mickey was starting to get pissed off at this man’s tone and he was really starting to regret even offering to help him.

“I’m sorry, I think I missed a few episodes, here,” Mickey said, “Who the fuck are you and how do you know Ian?” The man hesitated for a second before answering. Mickey waited.

“I’m Caleb,” the man said. “Ian and I used to date.” Mickey didn’t need more than a second to recognize the name. Ian had told Mickey all about his rebound firefighter. Mickey knew that Ian wasn’t going to stay single while he was locked away. Mickey was just glad that Ian wasn’t screwing old men. Hell, he had even thought that the Trevor guy seemed great, but Caleb was someone that Mickey had hated the second Ian began talking about him. Then, when Lip had told him that he and Ian had witnessed Caleb cheating on Ian with some woman, Mickey hated him even more.

Lowering his head slightly, Mickey finally took a moment to size up the firefighter. Caleb was big and Mickey knew that those arms would pack a wallop if Caleb decided to start a fight, but Mickey also knew that he was craftier and if it came down to it, Ian’s ex would be on his way to the hospital very soon.

“Oh, you’re Caleb,” Mickey finally said, staring him down. “The fucker who cheated on him with some bitch and claimed it didn’t matter because she didn’t have a cock.” Caleb seemed perturbed by that but quickly composed his face despite the crassness coming from the other man.

“And you are…”

“Mickey Milkovich,” Mickey said, just daring Caleb to say something else stupid.

Which he did.

“Ah, Mickey,” Caleb said. “The abusive boy toy.” Mickey stopped for a second, wanting to punch Caleb in his perfect face.

“Abusive…” Mickey echoed, not liking the accusatory tone in Caleb’s voice.

“Ian told me all about how you used to beat on him before screwing him like he was your bitch,” Caleb said and Mickey could hear the anger in his voice. Mickey knew that Ian had been hurt after a lot of their arguments. The worse one being when Mickey had beat him up after the Terry incident. Mickey had never felt more horrible in his entire life than when he had done that. Even now, he tried to make up for it even if Ian said that he had already forgiven him. The thing was, Mickey had never forgiven himself for the beating he had given Ian in that gravel lot.

However, hearing that Ian had called him abusive, especially to someone like Caleb, just made Mickey more pissed off. Not necessarily at Ian, but more at the situation as a whole. This was who Ian felt the need to run to after their break up and regardless of how attractive the firefighter was, Caleb had no idea who he was speaking to.

“He did, did he?” Mickey said and Caleb nodded, acting as if he had Milkovich all figured out. “Right, well did he also tell you that the first time we banged, he threatened my ass and tried to beat me with a tire iron?” Mickey asked, spotting the exact tool on the ground next to the rest of the tools Caleb had hauled out. Ignoring the little voice in his head that sounded a lot like his parole officer, Mickey reached down and picked up the iron. “Sort of like this,” he said before taking a swing at Caleb’s windshield, shattering it.

“Fuck!” Caleb exclaimed. Mickey followed up by taking off one of the side mirrors before swinging the iron into Caleb’s face, causing the other man to stumble back.

“Get the fuck off the Southside or next time I’ll hit something other than your fucking car,” Mickey threatened. Caleb was wary of him but didn’t back down.

“You don’t deserve him,” Caleb said and Mickey’s eye twitched for a second before composing himself. It wasn’t news to him that people didn’t think Mickey was good enough for Ian, but he didn’t need to hear it from someone like Caleb.

“You don’t know shit about him or me,” Mickey said. “If you did then you wouldn’t fucking test me.” Caleb stared down at Mickey, but the latter wasn’t backing down. He would go back to jail before he let some asshole ex of Ian’s make him feel unworthy of the man he loved.

When Caleb went to retort, his attention was pulled by a police SUV rolling up to them and Caleb’s smashed car. Mickey didn’t move and he didn’t drop the tire iron as Caleb turned to the cop. “Officer, maybe you could arrest this man for threatening me and damaging my property,” Caleb said, glaring over at Mickey again.

“Mickey?” the cop said and Mickey finally looked over at the man in the front seat of the SUV. He recognized him immediately.

“Arthur!” Mickey greeted with a grin.

“Hey man!” Officer Arthur Tipping said, offering his fist to Mickey who happily tapped it with his own.

“You know him?” Caleb said as Mickey grinned at him.

“He’s my partner’s brother-in-law,” Tipping said with a goofy grin on his face. Mickey liked Carl’s partner because the man was the definition of a loveable idiot. Plus, he always turned the other way when a Gallagher was involved.

“Yeah, Carl’s a cop now, asshole,” Mickey said to Caleb. “Good luck filing a complaint or pressing charges, dick.” Caleb was fuming as he started towards Mickey.

“Woah there, bud,” Tipping said. “You might want to take a few steps back.” Caleb stopped and did as the officer said, but not without sending a death glare towards Mickey. “Need a ride home, Mr. Milkovich-Gallagher?” Tipping asked.

“That would be great, Arthur,” Mickey said with a grin as he tossed the tire iron aside. He looked at Caleb once more and then casually walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You come near my husband and I will make sure that nobody ever finds your body,” Mickey said sweetly before leaving Caleb on the curb and hopping into the front seat of the squad vehicle. Mickey flipped Caleb off as Tipping drove away. Caleb just swore and lashed out at his car.

Mickey relaxed in the car before sighing. “Shit, pull over here for a second man,” he said and Tipping pulled over. Mickey then got out of the car and pulled open the back door before crouching over a half-conscious Frank. “Fucking Gallaghers,” he said as he hauled his father-in-law into the back of the squad car and Tipping took him home while Frank snored in the backseat.

When Mickey finally got home and deposited Frank on the floor in the living room, he went in search of his husband. He found Ian in the kitchen, finishing up some dishes. “Hey, you,” Ian said as he spotted his husband walking into the room. Mickey smiled at him. Ian grabbed the back of his head and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s lips, savoring the taste and feel of his husband.

Mickey kissed him back, but Ian could tell it was less enthusiastic than usual. Pulling back, he furrowed his brow at the man in his arms. “What?” Mickey asked.

“You good?” Ian asked.

“Long day,” Mickey said with a dismissive wave. Ian didn’t look convinced so Mickey pulled him back to him, kissing him deeply. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, holding him tightly. Mickey sighed into Ian’s mouth, content to be with him after the shit he had dealt with that afternoon.

When Ian pulled back again, he leaned his forehead against Mickey’s, running his hands down his arms. Mickey looked up at him, Ian’s green eyes looking stunning in the low light of the Gallagher kitchen. Everything Caleb had said to him was coming back and he hated that he was letting it get to him. He loved Ian and he knew that Ian loved him, but there would always be that part of him that felt unworthy of Ian’s love.

Ian, being Ian, noticed the look in Mickey’s eyes. Self-doubt was not something Mickey hid very well. Reaching up to cup Mickey’s face in his palm, Ian gently rubbed his thumb along his husband’s face. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” Ian whispered.

Mickey slid his hands up to Ian’s shoulder, always loving how much taller his husband was. With a breath, Mickey inhaled the scent of his love and then smiled softly. “You just...were you,” Mickey answered simply. Ian mirrored the soft expression as he leaned into Mickey once again.

“I love you,” Ian said against Mickey’s lips.

“I love you too, Gallagher,” Mickey said before pressing his lips against Ian’s, falling into complete bliss and knowing one thing for sure: Ian and he deserved each other and nobody was going to tell him differently.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hello hello! can i request something where geto and f!reader meet again after a decade because reader left the jujutsu community without a word, and they're now both teachers at the school with gojo but geto and reader have always had a special bond but never made a move out of fear of rejection? bonus if gojo helps them in some way hehe thank youuu

a/n: Hello! Thank you so much for requesting this! I loved writing it, might have gotten a little carried away (hehe) but here you go! I hope you enjoy it! 

Homecoming: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader 

word count: 2.7k

tw: death, nightmares

You’ve had this dream a million times before. 

You’re not alone, but you’re surrounded by hundreds of people. 

Dead people. 

People you know and love. People you fought alongside. People you’ve saved. And most importantly, those you couldn’t. It’s Yu’s face that haunts you the most, though. 

His smile. The way he smiled and made you all laugh… The way he looked so peaceful, even in death. It had all been too much when he turned up in the morgue. Nanami looked at you with dead eyes, explained to you there was nothing he could do. And for the first time in a long time, you cried in front of someone. 

But now Yu lay in front of you as a grim reminder of your limitations. “You can save everybody,” Yu whispers, his voice echoing in the stifling air. “We’re running out of time. Why won’t you?”

You shoot up in your bed, sweat pooling around your collarbone and back. The light to your left immediately switches on, enacting a routine you’ve programmed into the lamp at any major sudden movements during the night. Light floods through your small apartment, and you exhale deeply, catching your breath before the hyperventilating begins.

“I am safe… I am safe… I am safe…” But even in the room where you’re completely alone, a sense of dread washes over you. 

You haven’t seen or heard from your former friends in a little over a decade, not since you woke up and decided to leave the school without so much as a goodbye and changed your entire identity. You were no longer “y/n, the jujutsu sorcerer”, but “y/n, the history teacher”. You had a career you loved, students you cared for, and co-workers who would only suffer a papercut at best. Not death. No, you’ve left that world behind you. There was no place for you among the sorcerers anymore. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s the bell!” You announce, walking to the door to collect your student’s papers as they left. 

“Goodbye, miss!” The sounds of teenagers going off to enjoy the rest of their day filled you with joy. You thank your lucky stars that you get to spend time with such carefree and amazing children and walk back to your desk to gather your things to leave. 

“It’s a shame I had to come all this way to find you.” 

You instantly straighten up at the sound of a familiar voice, loosening your grip on the straps of your purse. You don’t dare turn to face the person, but you can feel the sapphire eyes on your back. Six Eyes noticed everything. 

“It’s a lovely little setup you’ve got going on here.” Gojo Satoru walked around the room and pointed to the maps on the wall casually, chuckling before placing his hands back in his pockets. “Do you get rid of your children’s curses, or have you forgotten where you came from entirely?” The glasses come off, and instantly, you’re fully trapped in the gaze of the white-haired man before you. He’s dressed normally in a blue button-down and black slacks, but this isn’t new. You’ve seen Satoru like this before. A decade ago, yes, but he hasn’t changed a bit. 

“I…” The words are lost on your lips. Satoru places a hand on his hip, eyeing you carefully. “Gojo… how…?” 

“Have you forgotten how we found you the first time?” No, you hadn’t forgotten. You remembered the long night, the darkness, the curses, your parents, their blood. You remembered it all. “It’s too easy to find you; you don’t really hide, y/n.” 

Your cheeks heat up, and you feel his gaze sliding from the crown of your head to your waist, trying to pick out any differences. When he’s satisfied, he approaches you again, his mouth turned up in a smile. “We need you back at Jujutsu Tech.”

“No,” you blurt, and grab your purse handles defensively. “I’m not going back there.” 

“I wasn’t asking.” Satoru jerks his chin at you, his manner ominous and unyielding. “There are some kids that we’ve enrolled that we need help with.” 

“I don’t want any part of it.” The denial is met with some resistance, you note, as Satoru lowers his chin. “I left for a reason. You’ll have to kill me to get me back on that campus without a fight.” 

You put up a fight. You really did. But now, you were slung over Satoru’s shoulder, dangling like a ragdoll while he carried you out of the school building. Your resignation letter - signed and dated - had been slid under the principals’ door, and you were promptly escorted off the campus by a gentlemanly Gojo. 

“Y/n, why do you make things so difficult?” Satoru pouts, and you huff, examining your scratched arms and torn sleeves. “I wouldn’t have thrown you into a tree if you hadn’t insisted on acting like a child.” 

“Please, shut up,” you gripe, and Satoru laughs.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! You’ll see everyone again! Nanami, Shoko, Geto…” You stiffen at the sound of Geto Suguru’s name. The raven-haired, easy-going, level-headed sorcerer that used to make your heart leap… As Satoru goes on and on about all of the things you missed out on, you wonder how the pensive man had fared in the decade of separation. Last you spoke, he had been struggling with his identity as a sorcerer. 

After Yu had been murdered, you clung to him and desperately hung off of his every word. You thought that maybe - just maybe - he’d go rogue, like you. He’d run away, and take you with him, reforming himself into someone new. But the moment you figured out his heart was still with Jujutsu Tech, you left without a word. Losing Yu had been painful enough. There were no sweet words that could assuage the wounds inside. Not even from Geto, despite his understanding and caring demeanor towards you at all times. He seemed too good to be true, and most certainly too good for you. Had he changed at all? 

“Are you listening to me?” Satoru whines. “I’m telling you about the new students!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the smell of the floor cleaner that hits you first. 

You didn’t miss the smell of the expensive liquid used to mop up the messes tracked in from outside. It only reminded you of the stale morgue, the cleansed tables, the sound of emptiness echoing on into the chaos of forever. 

“What would you do, Yu?” The spoken thought is accompanied by the sound of a box being opened. “Would you come back?” He didn’t answer, and you didn’t expect him to. He would only ask you the same question in your dreams: 

“You can save everybody; why won’t you?” 

The agony of unpacking was all-encompassing, forcing you to tears. You had come back to hell, and it was only a matter of time before the nightmare and horrors played out like before. Nothing had changed over the passage of time except the faces. 

“I’ll catch up with you later!” 

It’s Gojo. You quickly shut your dresser drawers and turn to the painting hanging on the wall, pretending to readjust it for the fifth time that day. You can’t let him see you cry, not when you spent the whole car ride cursing at him for even daring to command Ijichi to drive you both back to Jujutsu Tech.

When your door opens, you don’t look back. Instead, you focus even harder on the brushstrokes of red, yellow, and green as you adjust the frame a little. 

“Y/n! I brought a friend to see you! You two should do some catching up!” A friend?

You turn to face the white-haired man and catch the black eyes of the raven-haired sorcerer instead. Your mouth drops open slightly as his head cocks to the side a little, an amused look dancing across his face. “Oh, look at the time, I have that… thing… to do.” Before you can call out to Satoru, he disappears, leaving you and Geto Suguru in the same room. 

Alone. 

You suddenly realize that your sweatpants and loose t-shirt are much too ill-fitting compared to how he’s dressed: in his sorcerer outfit, just like you left him. The only difference was that his hair - his illustrious hair - was so much longer than you remember. Half of it is up, tied back in his usual half-bun, the rest is cascading around his beautiful face. 

“I’m very surprised to hear that Gojo successfully coerced you back on campus.” 

“It wasn’t by choice…” you breathe, and Suguru smiles, completely disarming you. 

“You look the same.” The comment is accompanied by his frame stepping inside of your room and closing the door behind him. “What have you been doing all of these years?” 

“Teaching.” He smiles even wider, scratching his cheek before sliding his hands in his pockets. 

“Same here. Nice to see that we didn’t turn out so different after all.” You huff a laugh, and Suguru looks around your room, examining the items on the wall with appreciation. “Has Gojo told you about the new students?” 

“I… wasn’t paying attention,” you admit, and he shrugs, knowing the feeling. 

“You’ll like them. They’re motivated… excited. A lot to handle, but they’re good kids.” 

“Like Yu?” The words slip out before you can truly recognize their meaning. But Suguru’s expression doesn’t change. A long silence passes before he inhales, then sighs it out through his nose, still looking everywhere but at you.

“That’s why you left, isn’t it?” Your hands clench into fists; this isn't how you want to address the situation. “I completely understand.” Suguru approaches you slowly, hands still tucked away. “But I did worry about you. We tried contacting--” 

“I know.” It isn’t until he’s fully in front of you that you realize how much you missed this man, how much his presence meant to you. He removes a hand from his pocket and reaches up to touch your face before tucking a stray hair behind your ear. Your heart quickens at his touch, and you wonder - only for a moment - if he ever felt the way you did about him. Did he ever think about you before bed? Did he ever do something that reminded him of you and stop to feel the hole in his chest widen for a second? Did he--

“Your face hasn’t changed. You’re thinking about something,” he whispers and you look up into his eyes, holding your breath. “Tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

“Yu.” He hums at your lie, pulling away a little. 

“No one ever fully heals from all of this,” he begins and looks over your head at the greenery outside. “I thought it would get easier… But it never really does.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Again!” One of the students - a gentle first-year named Yuji Itadori - slowly rises from the tree trunk Suguru has smashed him into and puts up his fists. 

“I-I don’t know if I can--” The boy’s thought is cut off by Suguru’s quick moves, and you observe the melee without bias, puckering your lips thoughtfully. When Itadori gets knocked down again, you click your tongue against your teeth, standing up from the stair you’ve been sitting on. 

“That’s enough for now,” you announce, stretching. “Go get some water and come back in ten.” Yuji obediently takes his leave, and you turn to Suguru with your hands on your hips.

“He’s not doing so well.” 

“That’s what we’re here for,” the raven-haired sorcerer mutters, wiping the sweat off of his face. “Gojo can do just fine with his cursed energy, but he can’t fight hand-to-hand to save his life.” Sweat runs down Geto’s chest and to his navel like a flowing river, and your eyes trace the path shamelessly. It isn’t until he clears his throat that you realize you’ve been staring, and you turn away, fully embarrassed. 

“So…” you begin, trying to cover up your slip-up. “What do we do now?” 

“What do you propose we do?” the voice behind you is close, and you feel his breath against your ear as he leans down. “I say… I beat the shit out of him and you just watch. Patch him up, get him back out there, make him fight until he accesses those skills within. What do you think, kitten?” The old pet name makes your stomach tighten, and you feel one of Suguru’s hands hovering at your waist. Your heart is pounding in your chest, almost as if it wants to burst free and run away. Your mouth dries up, and you’re forced to swallow hard to assuage the papery feeling. 

“I--” 

“Hey, maybe we can just take it easy for a while?” Yuji interrupts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. Suguru straightens up immediately and smiles, his hand lowering from your side. 

“Y/n… what does ‘take it easy’ mean again?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The nightmares are unrelenting. Yu is angry. 

“You came home,” he murmurs, turned away from you. “But you’re not doing what you’re supposed to do. Why bother, y/n?” 

“Please, Yu,” Your voice is much weaker than you thought it would be. “I need more time.” Yu turns to grab your face, his hollow eyes boring into your soul with fury. 

“We don’t have time! There are lives that need to be saved and you’re jus--” 

“Wake up!” A harsh yank pulls you out of the dream and right back into your bed, but there’s more commotion than you expected upon opening your eyes. Suguru is straddling your figure, his black hair tickling your face. He’s shaking you, face full of worry and concern while you lie beneath him and slowly come back to your senses. “Y/n,” Suguru breathes, his sweet breath fanning across your face. 

“What are you doing in here?” Your mind travels from the dream to the white t-shirt, baggy sweatpants, and tender touch of the sorcerer above you. 

“Your cursed energy was out of control…” Suguru sits back on his haunches, exhaling while pushing his hair back behind his face. “I could feel it in my room, so I came to see what was going on. But…” Your eyes flick to his face, his eyes squeezed shut and lips tightly pressed together. 

“It was just a nightmare.” You explain cooly and sit up, rubbing your forehead. “Just a nightmare.” 

There’s a slight tension in the air, but you say nothing as Suguru slides off the bed to give you space. You didn’t want him to go, but you know the situation can’t magically be made better. You just needed time. “Do you want to talk about it? I’m a really good listener.” He offers, eyeing you carefully. 

“No, not really,” you whisper, and look over to the window where moonlight is spilling in. “It’s nothing out of the ordinary.” Suguru nods, taking a few steps toward the door. He stops in his tracks, and you can feel him contemplating something before turning back around and looking at you intently. 

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you stayed?” The question hits you like a bag of bricks, and you sit very still in the bed, unsure of how to answer. “What would’ve happened if Gojo never brought you back to me?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper in response. In a few steps, Suguru was back on the bed, leaning a knee on the mattress. He reaches a hand out to smooth his knuckles against your soft cheek, and you lean into his touch eagerly, feeling your fear slip away. Without any words, he presses his lips against yours - just once - but it’s enough to make you feel something blooming in your chest. “Suguru…” He swipes two fingers over your lips tenderly, sealing the kiss with his touch. 

“I’ve waited a long time to do that.” 

“Why now?” His eyelashes flutter in the moonlight, his mind coming up with some sort of excuse for his lack of forwardness. 

“Why? I was so sure you and Yu had something… more going on. I thought when you left that you might find a non-sorcerer that wouldn’t break your heart.” He sighs. “Seeing you like that broke my heart, so I didn’t blame you for leaving at all. I just hoped you would find happiness out there. Even if that meant it was withou--” 

You smash your lips against his again, silencing his speech. He cups your chin and dips his head low, moaning into your mouth with pleasure. When you break the kiss, you tenderly press your forehead against his, closing your eyes in the darkness when he taps a kiss to your nose.

“But I’m glad you came home.”

[madswritingvoid]

Bootlegger

Pairing: Llewyn Davis x gn!reader

W/C: 1.6k

Warnings: Some swearing, sm**ches, but otherwise it’s still just fluff because Llewyn Davis makes me weak.

A/N: Okay so technically I played around with the state of bootlegs and access to recording devices but that’s fine we’re fine.

“Honey, I’m home!” 

You bounce into your apartment, putting the groceries in your arms on the small kitchen counter. Met with silence, you take off your coat and hat and begin looking for that mop of curls you love so much. “Llewyn? Baby? Are you okay?”

You hear shuffling and a string of muttered curses come from your bedroom and smile to yourself, even in your small New York apartment Llewyn could lose himself in whatever new song he was writing or record he just bought. “Hi sweetheart, yeah everything’s okay, just - just stay out there for a second. I was doing some cleaning and now I fucked it up,” he calls out but you don’t listen.

Even though you moved in together five months ago, your one-year anniversary around the corner, you couldn’t get enough of him. If that meant sitting on your bed and watching him clean up whatever mess he’s made, you were more than happy to keep him company.

“Don’t be silly, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting into when I moved in. You’ve never been known for being cle-,” you freeze in the doorway. A sheepish Llewyn looks at you from across the room, sat in front of your turntable, every record between the two of you spread out in front of him.

“Honey, why are my records on the floor?”

“Well, I realized we always have my records out and yours just stay in that little crate in the closet… So I thought it would be symbolic or something to mix them together and make it our collection? I’m even alphabetizing them!” He proudly exclaims, lifting up the larger crate of records to show you the letter markers he’s made with cut up cereal boxes. 

Your chest tightens, Llewyn has never been what people may traditionally consider “romantic”, but you loved him with your whole heart and knew he loved you too. Little projects like these may seem trivial to others, but you know this was just another way he was telling you he loves you.

“That’s a great idea baby,” you smile and walk over to the closet to get into some comfy clothes. Your last trip to the laundromat meant your favourite shirt of Llewyn’s was clean and ready for the taking, “why don’t you put something on for us while you keep organizing?”

He hums in agreement as he files through the stack of your records, his eyes immediately lock in on a record in a plain white paper sleeve with just the title in marker. 

L.D. Gaslight ‘65.

“What about this one? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you put this one,” he holds the record up so you can see it from the other side of the room. Your blood runs cold as you Superman leap onto the bed, trying to snatch the record from him, “no no no no!” 

“Whoa, baby! Slow down! We share everything, remember? You got me to admit I like Simon & Garfunkel, I promise whatever this is will not change how much I love you… Unless it sucks, then I might have to judge a little bit,” he teases, flashing you those big brown puppy dog eyes until you sigh in defeat. With a tiny nod from you and a reassuring kiss on the forehead from him, Llewyn carefully places the record on the player.

The comforting first crackle of the needle meeting vinyl fills the room and you’re taken back to that night at the Gaslight. 

Jean begged you to come with her after Jim had to ditch her for an impromptu writing session in the city, still asking her to record tonight’s performers at the Gaslight with his fancy new tape recorder. He thought the next step for their duo would be to record live performances at the lounge, a bootleg of themselves, or some bullshit like that according to Jean. 

“I know you’re not here because you want to be, lord knows I don’t, but I think tonight’s last minute line-up change might help.” You looked up at Jean, brow raised. Last you heard some marines-to-be were taking over the open mic, why would you give a shit? 

There’s a tapping sound against the mic and you can’t help the gasp that escapes.

“Um, ladies and gentlemen, as you can see I am not a group of strapping young marines, but my name is Llewyn Davis and I hope you’ll still enjoy your night.”

Your head whips over to Jean who’s sporting a knowing smirk on her face. Even though she had her own past with Llewyn, she was as supportive as she could be with the new relationship forming between the two of you. The past month was full of you sitting on her and Jim’s couch, gushing over your latest coffee date or poem you found on your bedside table in his rushed scrawl. You had admired Llewyn from afar for so long you dove head-first into being with him.  

You had it bad.

Llewyn’s eyes widen hearing his own voice. “... Baby? Did you make a bootleg of me?” You feel the heat rising until your face feels like it’s on fire but you don’t meet his eyes.

“N-No! Well, technically yes it is a bootleg of you. But I didn’t make it! I was there with Jean and you were performing, and I always thought you had a wonderful voice and we were just starting to talk and you were cute and and and -” he cuts you off with a soft kiss on the lips, pulling back so see the big grin he’s sporting.

“Since you’re so cute I won’t try and come after any copyright,” he laughs placing a reassuring kiss to your forehead, “but now you have to come and listen to this with me, voice cracks and all.” Holding his hand out to you, you slide off the bed and climb into his waiting lap. Your fingers automatically find their place among his crown of curls, Llewyn nuzzling his nose against your neck as you start to gently scratch his scalp.

His set only lasted twenty minutes but sitting in his arms, humming along to your favourite songs as he pressed soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, you could have stayed like this forever.

“Thank you for sticking around. Up next we have Jane Lane, have a good night everyone.”

Knowing what comes next, you try to wiggle out of Llewyn’s grip, but he doesn’t let you go, tightening the arms around your waist. “What’s wrong? Did you catch someone talking shit about my set on the tape?” He chuckles, but you freeze, knowing it’s too late to stop the next part of the recording.

The audience gives a polite but unenthusiastic round of applause. You roll your eyes and wolf whistle, making sure Llewyn knows that someone out there loved what he just did.

“I don’t know why you bother. I get that you’re all goo goo about him now, but come on. He’s a Grade A asshole, always has been,” Jean scoffs as she notices how your eyes still haven’t left Llewyn. 

You don’t even look over at her when you reply, Llewyn’s eyes finally meeting yours from across the smokey bar. You can’t help the large grin you feel coming, him giving you a shy one in return.

“I’m gonna marry him one day.”

The needle yanks itself off the still spinning record and you rush over to the turntable, quickly but carefully putting everything back in its proper place. “Okay, that’s enough of that for the night. They said they wouldn’t include anything after your set finished, but I guess that was a fuckin’ lie,” you mutter. 

Refusing to meet Llewyn’s eyes you go through the motions of putting the bootleg back among your collection and putting on some Simon & Garfunkel to fill the silence surrounding you both. If he had just let you go everything would’ve been fine. You weren’t embarrassed by what you said, but it still made you nervous knowing that he heard it. You tried to play it so cool when you first started really talking, he didn’t need to know you loved him so much from so early on, you didn’t want to scare him away now that you were finally going to that next part of your relationship. 

“Baby,” you will yourself to turn around, meeting those soft brown eyes you love so much. “Did - did you mean that?” 

“That depends,” you shrug, “did it freak you out? Because if it did that’s an inside joke between Jean and me and man is it funny but now’s not the time to start explaining everyth-'' you can’t seem to stop rambling until Llewyn stands in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“Did it freak me out to know the person I would look out for every time I got up there to sing was into me? That I loved you so much from the start and now I know you felt the same? Nah, didn’t freak me out at all,” he places a soft kiss on your lips and wraps his arms around your waist, swaying the two of you to the song playing in your own little dance. 

You don’t say anything after that, both of you just basking in the warmth of your love. There was so much more Llewyn wanted to say to you, but for now he just let himself relax into you. What you said didn’t just make him feel good, it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world.

And it sure as hell made him feel ready to finally show you what’s been in the small velvet box he’s been carrying around for the past two months.