#did i get honked at by the car behind because the light turned green and i was too busy trying to get a picture of this? of course

[stewykablooey]

everywhere i go i see his face

[roosterforme]

Covering the Classics Part 6 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: In the aftermath of the kiss, Bob and Anna try to process their feelings. Bob works on more of his poetry while Anna hides from her friends, but neither of them can get past their attraction. When another man arrives during a night out, all Bob feels is jealousy.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, masturbation, eventually 18+

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 for the beautiful banner!

Taking Anna to Chippy's was a mistake, because Bob was falling harder by the minute. She was cute and smart. Witty and reserved. And the fact that she was a little tipsy after one drink just made her more endearing. Jessica could drink more Sam Adams than anyone he'd ever seen before, and Bradshaw's wife could probably play beer pong professionally, but not Anna. She was giggling and demanding he not download a dating app. She was smiling nonstop and touching him. And he wasn't even allowed to have a chance with her.

She only lived a mile or so from campus, which was a shame, because Bob would have liked to spend more time with her. He played with the radio dials in his old truck as he drove, trying to keep his hands busy. And that's when he swore he heard Anna whisper a line from his poem.

"What did you just say?" he asked, eyeing her closely.

"Nothing," she told him as the car behind his truck honked, and Bob tapped the accelerator when he realized the light was green. He must have been mistaken. There was no way anyone actually read the stuff he posted online, let alone Anna. He just did it for a way to help him release his emotions and thoughts.

But he wanted to make sure. When he parked at the curb in front of her building, he turned toward her with curious eyes and whispered, "I thought you said-"

He was instantly distracted by the way she kept her eyes on his as her chest rose and fell a little faster. She unbuckled her seatbelt and scooted closer to him along the seat, and he froze as she leaned in and kissed him. Her lips found his like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she made a soft sound, he raised his hand up to touch her cheek, something he'd been dying to do for weeks and weeks. Her skin felt silky soft as she nibbled gently on his lip, and then he remembered everything that she'd said to him. He couldn't start down this path just to have her put up another roadblock. 

He forced himself away from her. "Anna. I don't think this is something friends do," he croaked, praying that by some twist of face, she'd end up in his arms. 

"I'm so sorry," she gasped, hauling herself back across the seat and throwing the door open. "I'm so sorry, Bob." He watched her climb down and grab her tote bag, barely glancing back at him as she slammed the door and ran inside the building. 

He was going to offer to walk her to her door. He wanted to make sure she got inside safely. He wanted to do a lot of things that would hopefully come across in a friendly way. This was decidedly not how he imagined his night would end, staring at the spot where she disappeared inside and wondering if she regretted kissing him. She really ran away from him at top speed without any clarification.

"Damn it, Bob," he whispered as he put his truck in gear. But he didn't know what he could have done differently. He just wished he didn't know how fucking good it felt to have Anna's lips on his, because it would probably never happen again. He wanted to ask her why she kissed him in the first place. Then an even more devastating thought occurred to him. What if she didn't want to be his friend after this?

He really needed Nat to come home from her deployment, because he knew he couldn't mention this to Jessica at D&D. What would he even tell her? That Anna kissed him exactly once and then ran away faster than an olympic sprinter?

Then he parked in front of his house and saw the text that made him shove his phone into his pocket and not look at it again until morning. 

Anna Webber: I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

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

Anna was curled up in her sad bed trying not to cry. Bob would probably never want to talk to her again now. What kind of person told a man they just wanted to be friends and then kissed him like the words meant nothing? Anna, apparently. But it felt so nice. No. Better than that. Kissing Bob felt necessary.

Before she could change her mind, she texted him and then turned off her phone. I'm sorry. That was a mistake. Please forgive me.

She rolled onto her back and started to cry. Not for the first time, she thought about calling Kevin and screaming at him for ruining everything. She should feel a sense of freedom by now after finally leaving him in New Jersey with Alyssa, but she just didn't. It wasn't fair that Anna had no control over what Kevin did when he still seemed to dictate what she was allowed to do. But she knew she had to be a better person than him.

When she reached down to the floor, her fingers found the stack of books she was currently reading for work and for entertainment. She picked up the Vonnegut from Bob, because it wasn't even really that late, and she was in a mood now anyway. Then she took the time to find the note from him. Her new bookmark. She read through her tears until they stopped. She didn't dog ear a single page. She used his note to save her spot, and then she fell asleep with the book pressed to her chest. 

She felt awful on Friday at work. When she gave her first lecture, it felt forced instead of insightful, and her notes seemed to blur on the pages in front of her. She didn't have an appetite, which was fine since she had no money for food and forgot to pack a lunch. Instead of going to the weird tree and the nicest women she'd ever met, she sat in her office and cried with her head resting on her folded arms. 

Bob didn't text her back, but she figured he wouldn't. There was really nothing else to say. She already decided she wasn't going to mention the kiss to Advanced Calculus or Advanced Physics, but perhaps she should tell them it would be a good thing after all if Bob went on a dating app. He deserved to be happy. Someone else would make him happy. 

As Anna was packing up everything she would need for the weekend, there was a knock on her office door. It was late, and her stomach was growling loudly, but she called out, "Come in!"

The room was so small, Bradley Bradshaw and his wife barely fit on the opposite side of her desk when standing side by side, and Anna watched him shuffle around so he was standing partially behind her. "What's up, Anna?" he rasped with a grin, and she had no difficulty imagining him ten years younger in a loud fraternity house. 

"Hi," she replied, clasping her hands together. "What are you both doing here? I was just about to catch the bus and go home."

"You never came to lunch today!" her friend complained. "And you didn't text me back. I was starting to get nervous that the creeper from the sociology department got to you or something."

"No," Anna replied with a soft laugh. "I'm fine."

Two pairs of eyes bored into her, and then Bradley and his wife both blurted out, "How was Chippy's?"

"Did Bob make a move?" Bradley asked, his hands caressing his wife through her tweed blazer. 

Anna swallowed a huge lump of guilt. "We're just friends," she managed to say.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with an eye roll. "Sure. But did he? Because I've been being a dick all week about getting him on a dating app even though I know he's not into the idea. Jake and I thought it might help."

"Are you serious right now?" his wife gasped, smacking at his hands while Anna rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "I told you not to interfere," she hissed.

"We're just friends," Anna repeated a little louder over the two of them arguing. "Chippy's was great. Amazing peanuts. Sticky floors. Grouchy bartender. It was like being back in undergrad."

Just as Bradley was raising his hand, about to speak again, he took an elbow to the side that seemed to make him think better of it as his wife asked, "Then you won't mind going back on Wednesday? To surprise Jessica for her birthday?"

"It's her birthday?" Anna asked, excited by the idea of being invited to a celebration even though Bob would definitely be there as well.

"Yes. I texted you about it when you skipped out on us at lunchtime."

"Right," she replied, knowing she'd only been checking her phone occasionally on purpose. "I'll be there on Wednesday. Of course I will." She was going to have to suck up her embarrassment over everyone trying to push her and Bob together, but at least they didn't know about the kiss she ran away from. "Anything for Jess."

"And are you coming to the Hard Deck tonight?" her friend asked as her husband's hands crept back into place on her body. 

"I have a lot of work to do. Midterms are just around the corner," she replied lamely. "So, probably not."

With a sigh, her friend nodded once and said, "Please don't skip lunch next week. We missed you."

Bradley said, "I'll make extra hummus," before his wife started pushing him to the door.

The confirmation that the hummus was in fact homemade left Anna feeling slightly jealous. That feeling only grew as she watched her friend take Bradley's chin in her hand and softly say, "Oh, Beer Boy. I don't even want to know what kind of a monstrosity of a dating profile you'd make for Bob."

He smiled and waved at Anna before he looked at his wife and said, "I just want all of my friends to be as happy as I am."

She grabbed him by his khaki belt and said, "Let's stop by the library."

Anna desperately wanted to be that happy, too.

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

"What's your problem, man?" Mickey asked as he drove Bob home from Dungeons & Dragons. "You were weird all night."

"Just tired," Bob replied, and he was being at least partially honest. He'd been staying up later than usual, working on some poetry and reading the books Anna recommended. He enjoyed all of them; she seemed to know exactly how to reach his innermost hidden thoughts and ideas. She somehow understood him, and that was more exciting than he wanted it to be right now. But when he and Anna had to be together in person again, he knew it was going to be a different story. He was almost relieved she didn't show up at the Hard Deck earlier, because he had no idea how to act around her now. 

She knew he had feelings for her, and that kiss had roughed him up a bit. Even a couple days afterwards, he thought he could still feel the pressure of her lips on his and smell her shampoo. 

"Are you still hung up on Anna?"

Mickey's words made Bob laugh. "More than ever before."

"You know what I think you should do?" his friend asked as he zipped along in his sports car.

Bob cradled his forehead and said, "I'd love to hear it," even though he was pretty sure it would annoy him.

"You should tell her that you don't want to be just friends. And then kiss her."

Bob turned and looked at Mickey as the passing street lights illuminated him and then left him in darkness over and over again. "I'm not going to do that. All I can do is hope she changes her mind." He didn't mention the fact that they had already kissed; he was sure she was too embarrassed by it to want it to become public knowledge. 

As Mickey pulled up to Bob's house, he said, "Well whatever you're doing right now, it's not working."

Bob sighed and said, "Thanks. That's really helpful. See you on Monday. Oh, and don't forget about the surprise party thing on Wednesday."

"Yeah, I won't forget. Hard Deck at seven o'clock."

"Chippy's!" Bob called out as he pulled away. Sometimes he felt like the most organized one out of all of his friends, and it was honestly amazing that Mickey even managed to get to work on time. At least Suzanne's lights were off as Bob walked up to his porch and let himself inside. He didn't have the energy to deal with anyone else tonight. 

He stripped down to his underwear and got ready for bed, but he took his computer with him. He was ridiculous for doing it, but he looked at the notes he'd typed up last night and started writing. It was never as beautiful or eloquent as the things he read from others, but posting his poetry online felt like he was at least taking ownership of something he created. This poem, however, he didn't know if he'd be able to post it at all. He found himself writing about red hair when he realized it would warrant a mature rating label if he ever did decide to post it. Then he started to think about all the things he wanted to do with Anna and her red hair. 

Bob grunted and set his computer aside. She was giving him mixed signals, and he wasn't sure she'd ever change her mind about being with him, but that didn't stop his body from responding as he imagined her beautiful hair spread out on his pillow. He'd take fistfuls of it and press his nose to it. He'd tug gently on it and tell her that she was beautiful. He would press kisses to the coppery strands and then guide her lower on his body as he grasped a little harder.

"Shit," Bob panted, kicking off his covers and pulling himself free from his gray boxer briefs. He jerked off to the idea of Anna and him together. She'd kiss his hips and thighs and laugh softly before licking along his length. His name would sound like the most beautiful poetry on her lips. Her freckles would stand out in the soft lamplight. He'd guide her along with his fingers wrapped around her hair as she teased him.

He stroked himself with his eyes closed, panting softly and whispering some of his own poetry, and he wasn't even surprised when he came all over his flat abs. When he adjusted his glasses with his clean hand, he thought he'd much prefer to see Anna in his bed with him.

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

Anna was starved for conversation with another human being by the time Monday morning arrived. Forcing herself to be a recluse as a means to distract herself from her plethora of issues was clearly not the answer. Not when she'd actually managed to make some friends in San Diego. She arrived on campus early and stopped in the lounge for a donut only to find nobody else from her department was really around. Then when she gave her first lecture, half of her students looked like they were still asleep. She tucked her new bookmark of sorts into Frankenstein by Mary Shelley and counted down the hours until she could meet her friends for lunch.

Jessica seemed none the wiser about her upcoming surprise party, but that was the whole point of the thing. Anna started bracing herself to spend some more time around Bob, hoping her kiss was so forgettable that he'd already moved on. Honestly, that was a pretty good possibility. She hadn't really considered that before, but it made a lot of sense. She was boring. After another day or two, he'd have probably forgotten all about it.

This helped Anna push herself through the week. On Wednesday, she took the bus home to change, and she knew she'd never make it to Chippy's on time in her sundress and denim jacket unless she took an Uber to the bar. So she gritted her teeth and paid for the ride, wishing for so many reasons that she hadn't kissed Bob so that she could have asked him to pick her up. But when she got to Chippy's, Bob wasn't even there. And Anna was met with a different issue in the form of a very attractive man with dark hair and dark eyes.

She felt his gaze on her as soon as she arrived, surprised he was looking at her of all people. But in her rush to get to Chippy's on time, all she really got to do was say hi to Jake and Bradley before they got her into position for the surprise. It looked like the bar had been reserved just for Jessica tonight, and that made Anna inexplicably happy and sad at the same time. Even that old bartender looked excited to celebrate. Even Dr. Rosenthal showed up. 

Then Bob rushed in wearing jeans, a snug fitting tee shirt and a worried expression. His hair looked damp, and he was straightening out his glasses as he glanced around and asked, "Did I make it in time?" Anna felt like someone knocked the wind out of her as he got closer.

"Barely," Bradley replied, checking his watch. "Sugar and Jess should be here any minute. Where the fuck were you?"

Bob's cheeks turned a little pink as he muttered, "I had to help Suzanne with her car. She had a flat tire. And then she insisted I come inside for a few minutes so she could thank me properly. I lost track of time."

Anna crossed her arms and pressed her lips together as Bob came to stand right next to her. When he softly said hello, she just nodded and tried to give him a smile, but she was too overwhelmed with too many different feelings. He smelled like soap, and she knew his body was warm without him even touching her. She didn't know who Suzanne was, but she was automatically a little jealous, which was ridiculous. But now she felt like that kiss last week was as forgettable as she both hoped and feared. 

Anna wanted to cry, but even her tears had to take a backseat at the moment as the door to Chippy's opened up and both of her friends walked inside. "Happy birthday!" everyone shouted, and Anna tried her best to look enthusiastic for the occasion. 

"No!" Jessica called out, shoving at the other woman's arm as she realized it was her birthday party. "You're sneaky! You lied to me about getting just one birthday beer!" Then she rushed forward in her adorable suit and high heels, heading straight for Jake's arms. But the second person she reached out to hug was Anna.

"Happy birthday, Advanced Physics," she said with a stifled laugh.

"I'm so happy you're here," Jessica gushed, and Anna felt a lot better as she returned the hug.

But all too soon, she was left on her own. At least all of the tables were covered in dishes of peanuts. Jake was paying for Sam Adams for everyone, but Anna knew she shouldn't drink. Not again. Not after she got tipsy with Bob. 

She could still feel those dark eyes on her as she broke open a peanut and enjoyed the perfectly salty taste. Who was that guy? His arms were wrapped around Jessica's waist, and Jake looked like he was about to go through the roof as his girlfriend laughed. Then he made his way over to Bradshaw's wife and gave her the same treatment. But Bradley looked completely unfazed when she kissed the other man on the cheek and smiled. They whispered something back and forth, and he met Anna's eyes with a wink. She quickly looked away, hoping to avoid a conversation. Bob was sipping a beer and smashing open his own peanuts, and she knew if she couldn't be with him, she didn't want to be with anyone else either. 

Too late. "Hi, are you Anna?" came an unfamiliar voice followed by the spicy scent of too much cologne.

"I am," she answered, looking down at the extended hand of this handsome stranger. "Are you a friend of Jessica's?"

He laughed as their hands met. "Sure," he replied smoothly. "But it's really Bradshaw and I that go way back. I'm Dev. Dev Borah."

"Oh," she said, still shaking his hand and trying to make sense of things. Why was she so awkward? She finally released him and said, "It's... nice to meet you. Um, how do you know Bradley?"

"Virginia. Undergrad. I graduated with the two of them, actually. Nearly died of shock last year when I heard they were both out in San Diego and getting married. Can I get you a drink, Beautiful? Something other than Sam Adams?"

"Oh," Anna gasped as she looked up at him in surprise. "Um... I don't really drink much."

Dev moaned and gripped at his chest dramatically. "You're killing me. I own a brewery!"

Anna could barely tell one type of beer from another, but she wasn't about to tell him that. And quite honestly, talking about making beer sounded interesting enough; she loved learning about new things. But he just called her beautiful. She was flustered and too hot, and then she saw Bob standing off to the side with Mickey, and his expression was one of great displeasure. 

"A brewery?" she asked, trying to force her attention back to Dev.

"Beta Brewing," he said proudly. "We're currently working on a two million dollar expansion project. It's kind of a construction zone, but if you ever want to come up to sample the goods, I'd love to have you."

Anna's eyes went wide. That sounded like an innuendo, but Dev's face was calm as he sipped his pint. Anna figured he must be okay if he was friends with all of these people, but she was never going to go there without the girls. "Maybe if everyone else wanted to go, I could tag along?"

Dev laughed and said, "Bradshaw makes the drive frequently enough. I'm sure we'll see each other again. But just to be sure... I could give you my personal number."

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

Bob was seething. He'd met Dev Borah exactly one time before, and while he'd had pretty neutral feelings about him prior to tonight, now he hated the sight of him. He'd persuaded Anna to have a beer even though Bob heard her say she didn't really want one, and now he was typing something into Anna's phone. He was giving her his number, just like Bob had done so many weeks ago.

"Stop torturing yourself, man," Mickey said, handing Bob some more peanuts.

"You think she likes him?" Bob asked, voice tight as he grabbed the bowl in his shaky hand.

Mickey shrugged next to him. "What's not to like?"

Bob tossed the bowl onto one of the tables. "You're not helping." He walked away to find someone else, anyone else, to talk to. He should have kissed Anna for as long as he could when he had the chance, because it was all he could think about now. It was all he wanted. She kept looking at him; if she was going to talk to Dev all night and say that kissing Bob was a mistake, then why was she looking at him?

He needed to get out of here and go home, but he knew his friends would be disappointed. Even Suzanne would shake her head. Honestly, he'd be annoyed with himself, too. But his mood was something so unfamiliar, he was ready to force himself to talk to the woman standing next to Anna who he thought was from the science department just so he wouldn't feel like a joke. 

"You know," Bradley said as he slung his arm around Bob's shoulders, "I had no idea Dev liked redheads so much. But then again, he never was too discerning back in the day."

"What do you want, Rooster?" he asked with a grunt.

"I just wanted to make sure you're having fun at Jess's little shindig."

Bob let Bradley slap him obnoxiously on the back as he asked, "Did you invite Dev? Is he going to give Anna a hard time or anything?" His eyes trailed back over to where Dev was still talking her ear off.

Bradley chuckled. "I invited him to get Jake riled up, but I had no idea you'd be collateral damage." He finally released Bob as he said, "And nah, Dev's harmless."

What Bob wouldn't give to have Natasha back. He missed her terribly, and all the guys seemed to be better behaved when she was around. But she'd take one look at Anna and probably embarrass him in front of her even more.

"I think I'm actually going to head home," came Anna's voice filtering over to Bob as she finally cut Dev off. "It was nice to meet you."

"Let me drive you," he replied immediately, and Bob could already picture him getting Anna settled into his Mercedes-Benz, his fingers grazing her bare thigh.

"No, that's okay," she told Dev as she backed away from him. "I'm just going to say goodbye to Jessica, and then I'll get an Uber."

She made her escape to the table next to where Bob stood, and Jessica gave her a big hug. "Happy birthday," Anna told her once again, followed softly by, "I'm glad we're friends."

Jessica squealed and hugged her tighter. "Me too."

"I'm going to call an Uber and head out," Anna was saying, but Jessica was already looking around. 

"No way. It's dark out, and someone here can drive you home. Hey, Bob? Can you drive Anna home?"

He knew he was going to say yes even though part of him didn't want to. And there was another part of him that assumed she'd just say Dev offered to take her. But when Anna looked up at him, he nodded and immediately said, "Of course."

To his surprise, Anna looked a little relieved as she took a step closer. "Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked him with a little wince.

"Not one bit. I was planning on heading home, and it's on the way."

Bob accepted a sloppy kiss on the cheek from Jessica who was well on her way to being drunk. Then he dug his keys from his pocket and nodded toward the door. Anna followed closely next to him, but unlike the last time they were at Chippy's, he didn't touch her. When Bob held the door open, he looked back over his shoulder at Dev who raised his pint glass with a smile of defeat, but he didn't really care about anyone except Anna.

"Thanks," she muttered, walking out into the cool, night air.

"Did you have a good time?" Bob asked, putting a little more space between them as he pointed up the block toward his truck.

Anna laughed, but the sound was tight and forced. "It was okay. I think Jessica was having fun, which is the most important thing, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed, squeezing his key in his hand as all of the images of their kisses returned. Everything he thought about when he wrote new poetry and touched himself to completion. He swallowed hard; even being around Anna was a lot for his senses. He couldn't blame Dev for trying, but their interactions made him jealous. "Did you get Dev's number?"

Anna stumbled a bit on the sidewalk as she looked up at him, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. "I didn't ask for it. He just kind of gave it to me," she said softly. "He invited me up to his brewery to try some beers. When I told him I'm not much of a beer drinker, he said he'd really enjoy teaching me about the process."

"I'm sure he would," Bob muttered, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

When he reached his truck, he wrenched the passenger door open for Anna, and she glowed softly in the dim, orange interior lighting. "He's a bit much," she said, looking up at him.

Bob nodded once, but she didn't make a move to climb in. "I don't know him very well, but I know he likes to hear himself talk." When she still didn't move, Bob asked, "Are you going to call him? Give him the opportunity?"

"I already told you..." she said firmly. "I can't be in a relationship right now, so I wouldn't want to encourage Dev. And I'm really, really sorry about last week, Bob." She fidgeted with her hands and added, "But if I were in a place where I wanted to start something, I wouldn't pick him."

"Really?" Bob asked as his heart pounded. The most depraved part of him wanted to hear her say she liked him more than Dev. More than anyone.

"Really," she whispered, placing her hand on the seat. "I like old trucks better than fancy sports cars."

That was enough confirmation for Bob. His skin was tingling with anticipation he knew he couldn't quench, but he didn't mind as much now as he did ten minutes ago. "Yeah... you could do way better than a multi millionaire anyway."

Anna's laughter in response was so genuine, Bob laughed, too. The drive to her place was quiet but not as strained as he was afraid it would be, and when he was about a block away, she took her phone out and started messing around with it. "Thanks, Bob," she said as he pulled up to the curb.

He cleared his throat. "You know how you told me you didn't think I should use the dating app? Because I didn't need it?"

"Yeah?" she asked, reaching for the door handle but looking at him. 

He squeezed the steering wheel tight in both hands and said, "Well, I don't think you need Dev's phone number." He watched her jump down and turn to glance his way, and then she smiled.

"I already deleted it. Thanks again for the ride. Maybe I'll see you this weekend?"

He nodded once before she closed the door. As she walked inside, he said, "I hope so."

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

Oh. Oh, okay. She prefers you, Bob! Now get ready for action. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls. And thanks @attapullman for all the underwear discussions.

PART 7

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

@cherrycola27

@katiedid-3

@yuckosworld

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

@avaleineandafryingpan

@t-nd-rfoot

@wkndwlff

@eddiemunsonreader

@wintercap89

@the-fever-of-mankind

@sio-ina-bottle

@lovingperfectionsblog

@daisydont-lie

@sappy-seresin

@birdy-bat-writes

@cutelittlefakejourneys

@cottagecori

@fandom-princess-forevermore

@sotalife

@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

@midnightmagpiemama

@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@taytaylala12

@captain-fandomwriter58

@grxcisxhy-wp

@hobireasns

@wolfquake23

@smileybouquet

@paintlavillered

@seitmai

@noonenuts

@amiets2

@sylviebell

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@lonelysoul50

@sweetwhispersofchaos

[mathesonlvr]

| Biker! James | f!reader |

collection of blurbs abt biker!james, sex outside, fluff

| Late night drives |

you’re on the back of his bike, arms wrapped tightly around his torso as he weaves through traffic, speeding past cars and you can feel him laughing at the honks and yells he’s getting from the other drivers on the road. once the road ahead is clear he speeds up a little more, turning his head and yelling to you “hold tight, darlin’!” as he cranks the gas and the front of the bike pulls up in the air, chuckling at your shriek and slowly hitting the brake to bring you guys back down, taking one hand off the bars and patting your arm. “you’re alright, sweetheart.” he assures, leaning back forward and revving the engine, speeding up and pulling behind some trees, bending you over his bike with his hand over your mouth, thick cock splitting you open deliciously. “fuck, babydoll, takin’ me s’good.”

—————

| Babydoll’s first bike |

he’s crouched down, tightening a bolt on the part he’s just installed on his bike. he’s got music playing softly in the garage, you’re perched on a table near by, watching him rebuild this bike. he stands back up, wiping the sweat on his forehead with a rag and walking to the table you’re sat on and leaning on it with his hands on the surface. “i think i can get her up and runnin’ in a week” he says, turning to lean his back against the table, looking up at you with a small proud smile. “oh fuck yeah. whatcha’ got left to do, jamie?” you ask, hopping down from the table and going to inspect the broken down bike. “well i just got the transmission in, i think all that’s left is replacing the gas tank, changing the filters and then putting the panels back on. and then a buddy of mine’s gonna repaint it for me, i’m thinkin’ of doin a dark blue, maybe dark green.” he explains, pulling you back into him by the hips, peppering kisses along your shoulder and hands sliding over your stomach. you lean back, resting your head on his shoulder as you talk. “ooooo dark green! that would look amazing, especially if you got a matte top coat.” he nods and kisses your cheek, gently squeezing your hips and going back to the table and grabbing more tools. a week later he’s pulling you into the garage, presenting you with a set of keys and pulling the sheet off the bike. the broken and tattered bike now the dark matte green you’d suggested. “jamie. what are you doing?” you say, surprised expression taking over your face. “you did not. no. what the fuck? baby! oh my god!” you laugh, and he just smiles cheekily. shoving the keys in your pocket and pulling you in for a hug by the fabric of your jeans. “you’re welcome, babydoll. your very first bike, built by your one and only.” murmured into your hair, soft kiss planted on your head.

—————

| Leaving |

you’re greeted with his voicemail yet again, throwing your phone down on the bed and walking briskly to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of smirnoff, popping the lid, gulping down a third of the bottle. it’s been 2 weeks of james not coming home until the middle of the night, slowly climbing into the bed as to not wake you, plans failing because you spent most of the night awake waiting for him to get home. you plop onto the bed, taking a few more drinks and clicking the tv on and flipping through channels before landing on some stand-comedian.

it’s about 2am when you hear him pull into the drive, keys jingling as he unlocks the door and shuts it softly behind him. “where have you been?” you ask, throwing the blankets off your legs. you don’t dare look over at him yet, tears already welling in your eyes. “and don’t fucking tell me it’s work. there’s no reasonable way you can cover up whatever it is you’re doing with work.” you spat at him, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke out in a cloud. he jumps a bit, not expecting you to be awake and he sighs. “babydoll, it’s not what you’re thinking. it’s frankie. he got in some shit again and he got me roped up in it. i’m takin’ care of it.” his tone is soft, and he walks towards you slowly, setting down his backpack and peeling his jacket off. you scoff, eyes rolling as you throw your hands up. “oh of course, frankie needs his baby brother to save his ass again. jamie, when the hell are you gonna realize you can’t save him.” your eyes meet his, staring daggers into him.

his shoulders drop, frown apparent on his face. “what’d’ya expect me to do, y/n? let him go back to jail? c’mon, baby. i’ll have it figured out by the end of the week. i’ve always taken care of it, you know that.” he wraps his arms around your waist, going to kiss your cheek but you lean back and push his arms off of you. “no. no, you’re not gonna do this. you are not gettin’ out of this that easy. the last time this shit happened you came home with a broken nose, arm and bruised ribs. he’s gonna get you killed one day, jamie!” your voice grows louder, taking another drag of the cigarette and putting it out. “or the one time you ended up in a damn coma for a week. james, you’ve gotta stop trying to save him. i’m sorry, but i can’t keep standing on the sidelines here.” your voice softens, hands swiping at the tears that rolled down your cheeks. his shoulders raise, hands in the air as he scoffs in disbelief. “baby, come on you can expect me to j-“ he’s cut off by the sound of your stomps, you open up the closet, grabbing a bag and shoving clothes into it. “woah, hey, baby no. come on, hey i’m takin care of it! i can’t have it finished by tomorrow, that’s just not possible.” he tries to reason with you, but you meant what you said.

“i’ll stay at a friends tonight. i’ll be back tomorrow to grab my stuff.” you sniffle, pushing past him and slipping your shoes on. he follows closely after you, pleading with you. “no, baby put the bag down and take off your shoes. i’ll sleep on the couch. it’s late, i don’t want you out there. just give me a week. i’ll be done with it in a week i promise you!” he begs, blocking the front door with his body. “move, james. i’m leaving.” you mumble, ducking under his arm quickly and walking out of the door, strapping your bag to the motorcycle and sliding the helmet over your head. “y/n get in the fuckin’ house.” he yells, stopping once he’s reached the bike. you swing a leg over the bike, starting the engine and flipping the plastic shield down on your helmet. he blocks your path with his body, sad eyes looking into your rage filled ones. “y/n, please. come back inside. please” he breathes out, dropping his head between his shoulders momentarily. “please.” he says again, looking back up at you. you shake your head, revving your engine and stepping on the gas just enough to jerk forward. he jumps out of the way, shocked expression on his face as you pull out of the drive, speeding down the road. and all he can do is watch with his hands on his head.

[noturlondonboy]

Me Without You

Katelena Angstshot

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova

Summary: Kate and Yelena get into a horrific car crash the same day that Yelena is planning to propose.

Warnings: major injuries, car crash, blood, talk of/implied adult content, gore, hospital stay, coma, memory loss, angst, mental illness, more angst, me making up medical stuff, swearing, did I mention angst yet

Positive!Content warnings: Wandanat, baby Billy and Tommy, Katelena fluff

A/N: Yes this is super angsty and kinda stupid and doesn't make sense but I swear on my life that no one dies and it has a happy ending so read it anyway :)))

This is NOT edited because my draft didn’t save and I am not about to redo all of it rn so

"Kate Bishop, if you touch that volume button again, I swear to god I will kick your ass so hard it flies out your fucking mouth."

Kate freezes with her hand on the dial, looking guilty as hell. "But it's so quiettttt." She had been blasting Mother Mother for the past ten minutes until Yelena's brain had exploded and she turned it down- she couldn't handle listening to it the entire drive to Clint's place. The morning had already been overstimulating enough.

Yelena pins her with a stare when they reach a red light. "I'm the one driving, which means I'm in control of the volume, if not the music. Hands off."

The archer pouts and slumps back in her seat, folding her arms over her chest. "You had the aux cord when I was driving yesterday," she whines.

"You didn't fight me for it," Yelena points out. She reaches over and cups Kate's chin, pulling her girlfriend's face close to press a soft kiss against her lips. "Cheer up, little hawk. You can have it on the way home."

Kate's demeanor immediately brightens, and she presses forward to kiss Yelena a little harder, holding it for a moment even after the light turns green and the car behind them honks. Yelena breaks off and presses on the gas frantically, her cheeks burning, and Kate laughs softly.

"You're so cute when you blush, baby," she says, leaning her chin in her palm to stare at her girlfriend's side profile as she drives their little Mitsubishi.

Yelena's grin is wide and bright, albeit shy. "Shut the fuck up, Kate Bishop," she says lovingly.

"I love youuuu, Lena."

"I love you too, stupid."

Kate settles back in her seat, rather satisfied with herself as she watches the snowy road go by. It was a little early for them to get snow, but a freak storm had blown in last night and iced the roads over, and Kate wasn't going to complain either way. She thought it was pretty.

"What if I turn your song on? Then can it be louder?" she asks after a couple minutes, the last notes of Hayloft fading out.

Yelena purses her lips in thought. "I suppose so," she concedes. Kate hums and pulls her phone out to find American Pie on Spotify and happily turns the volume back up.

They both sing and dance along once the lyrics start, and Kate's cheeks hurt with how much she's smiling when she replays the song. Yelena always straightens up a bit more to this music specifically, and the way she seems to glow as she dances to it makes butterflies erupt in Kate's stomach.

"You're beautiful- you know?" Kate mutters, watching Yelena with soft eyes. The blonde grins again and turns to her girlfriend at another red light, pulling her close once more to press a searing kiss to her mouth.

"And you, Kate Bishop, are very charming." She reaches a hand up to cup the archer's cheek and kisses her deeper, smoothing her thumb along her strong jawline.

Kate grins into Yelena's lips, and leans back again with a content sigh when the light turns green. They would be at Clint's in about ten minutes. "Thanks, Lena. I try."

A soft chuckle. "You're beautiful too, detka."

Kate blushes despite herself and gives a happy sigh. "God, I am so gay. This is so gay. We're so gay. I love being a lesbian."

Yelena barks a laugh this time. "I would hope so, Kate Bishop! We've been dating for six years." Even as she says it, she's consciously aware of the ring box in her left pocket, heavy and waiting. Her heart glows, and another smile has her dimples popping out.

"What's the grin for?" Kate asks, poking at Yelena's cheek.

"Just excited to see Wanda and Natasha." The two women had twins just a few months ago before they moved back from New York, so neither Yelena or Kate had been able to meet the new baby boys. They were staying with Clint and Laura's family until they found a new house, probably somewhere in Ohio.

Kate coos loudly, squishing her own cheeks. "Oh my goodness, I'm so excited to meet Billy and Tommy. The pictures they sent are so darling- I'm gonna die, Lena."

Her girlfriend reaches a hand over to squeeze her thighs. "Do you think you'd ever want kids, Kate Bishop?" They had talked about their future over and over before, but now with the two of them having a set of new nephews, the option of a family felt more real.

Kate twines their fingers together and lifts Yelena's hand to kiss her scarred knuckles. "As long as they're with you, Yelena."

"God- you really are cheesy." The assassin is still blushing furiously either way, and she marvels at how well Kate is able to turn her all gooey even after crushing on her for years and years.

"I can't help it," Kate says cheekily.

"No, god, you really can't, can you? You'd probably keel over and die if you ever tried to be serious for once in your life."

Kate punches her shoulder lightly and leans over the center console to smack a wet kiss on her girlfriend's cheek. "Shut up, loser."

Yelena just cackles and turns to the archer. "You know I'm right!"

"Yeah, yeah." Kate hums a laugh and settles into her seat, gazing out the window. "I love the snow."

"I know, darling."

"Maybe we can take the twins sledding."

"We can't take four-month-olds into this weather, Kate Bishop. They'll get sick."

"Booooo."

"Dummy."

"Asshole."

"Fucker."

Kate grins. "Damn right I am."

"Kate!" Yelena's jaw drops, and her face is absolutely blazing. Her girlfriend just cackles.

"You sure weren't complaining last night when I used the new str-"

"Kate Bishop! Shut up! I'm trying to drive!" Yelena can feel her stomach pooling with heat, which is rather distracting when she's trying to navigate their car over icy roads.

Kate gives a shit-eating grin and waggles her eyebrows. "I brought it with me in my bag."

Yelena's skin feels like it's being torched, and her jaw drops so hard she swears she can feel it hit the seat under her as she whips her head away from the road to glare dumbly at Kate "You what?!"

Except that there's a patch of black ice right in front of their car, and when she takes her eyes off of the road, the tires choose to go skidding right at that moment.

It happens too fast.

Kate is shouting, reaching over to Yelena. The assassin's hands are wrenching frantically at the wheel, and there's a truck horn blaring from all directions- one second, two, and then a screeching crash erupts around them.

The world goes black.

——

Yelena's head feels like a horse is kicking into it repeatedly, and something hot and sticky is dripping into her eye as she slowly comes to. The pavement is scorching beneath her hands, digging into the flesh of her raw palms that have been scraped open on the road. She groans and blinks fruitlessly, each action slamming lighting into her brain.

What the fuck just happened?

Her legs are twisted uncomfortably underneath her, but as she regains enough consciousness to assess the rest of her body, she concludes that nothing is numb to the point of paralysis, probably due to the adrenaline flooding her system.

Where's Kate?

A spike of strength spears through her, and Yelena shoves herself to her shaking feet, biting back a scream and wrapping an arm around her torso when her ribs wrench with pain. The burning wreckage of the car crash in front of her is horrific- she doubles over her bleeding knees and empties her stomach on the pavement when she sees it.

Their car is completely demolished, with the truck that slammed into them not looking that much better, and Yelena is sick for a second time when she spots the damage done to her driver's side. She should be dead. How is she not dead?

Where is Kate?

Yelena opens her mouth to call for her girlfriend but chokes as blood floods over her tongue, and she realizes with a dull pang of horror that she bit into it in the collision so hard that the flow of sticky red is almost gushing.

A problem for later.

She forces the pain away and frantically stumbles closer to the crash, legs shrieking. "Kate!" she screams out, her mouth on fire as blood continues to sputter from her lips. "Kate!"

The car is in flames, and oil and gasoline are dripping dangerously from the twisted metal. "Kate! Please!"

There.

She spots her girlfriend as fire starts to crawl towards her, and Yelena lets out a wail as she forces her legs to go faster. The archer is sprawled out awkwardly on her belly with her cheek pressed into the pavement, blood pooling underneath her head and legs. Shallow breaths are pushing at her chest, but they're wet and raspy.

Yelena can feel the sobs shaking her own body, but sound has begun to fade from her senses, and all she knows is the heat of Kate's blood on her hands as she scrambles to pick the unconscious woman up. Kate's body is a dead weight over her shoulders. Yelena drags the two of them as far away from the crash as she can, and when they reach a spot of snowy grass on the side of the road, she's distantly aware of frantic voices and the wailing of sirens.

"Kate," she sobs, dropping herself and her girlfriend down into the snow. Red immediately begins to stain it. The archer has not stirred, and when Yelena sees the damage down to her face and head, she's sick for a third time. Her head spins mercilessly.

"Please, no."

But Kate is still breathing, so Yelena curls herself around her girlfriend and moans at the pain throbbing through her body.

"Kate Bishop, please. Please."

The ambulance cannot come fast enough.

——

Natasha is there when Yelena wakes up in the hospital, and she stares at her older sister for a few seconds before the redhead realizes she's awake.

"Oh, Yelena," she murmurs, getting out of her chair and hurrying to the side of Yelena's bed, leaning over her to hug her carefully.

"Tasha," Yelena whimpers, reaching out for her sister. Her entire body is aching mercilessly, but the pain dulls once she's wrapped in the love of her family.

Natasha holds her close and gets onto the hospital cot with her sister, brushing a hand through her tangled hair and kissing a bandage on her forehead. "What happened?" she asks softly.

Yelena's eyes immediately well up with tears, her face twisting painfully. "I got distracted, Tasha. There was a truck. And then I- I woke up on the road, and Kate-" She screws her eyes shut, a sob building painfully in her chest. "Is Kate okay, Tasha? Is my Kate Bishop okay?"

Natasha sucks in a breath, and Yelena's heart stops for a moment. "She still hadn't woken up by the time the ambulance got you guys here, and she's in surgery now. Clint is waiting outside her room for any updates."

Yelena can feel her tongue throbbing when she sucks it in between her teeth, and she remembers the blood she spit out of her mouth. "She was bleeding so much, Tasha," she cries softly, bringing a bandaged hand up to cover her burning eyes. "I thought she was dead when I first found her. Oh my god. I could have lost her. Oh my god."

Natasha hugs her closer and tucks Yelena's head under her chin as her little sister begins to sob and hiccup into her chest, rubbing gentle circles into her shoulder and laying her cheek on golden hair.

"She's gonna be okay, Yelena. She'll be okay."

Yelena clings to her like a lifeline and wills herself to believe it as the tears soak her face.

——

Kate is officially pronounced to be in a coma two days before Yelena is discharged, and she's losing her shit. She hasn't been allowed to see her girlfriend the entire time she was still stuck in the hospital due to her own injuries, but she's able to stand up without getting too dizzy now and she's already used to the crutches needed for her sprained ankle.

The wound that she had bitten into her tongue had apparently looked and felt a lot worse than it actually was, and Yelena was already back to being able to eat soft foods, and the cut above her eye was scabbed over. Now the only real problems were the bruised ribs and burns on her palms- an annoyance more than anything, but still a major hindrance.

"Am I allowed to see her, now?" Yelena asks anxiously, cornering the doctor that had been sent to officially discharge her before he can leave.

The man sighs and scribbles a few more things down on his clipboard before checking his watch. "Once your sister is here to get a rundown of your at-home care, yes, we can take you to see Miss Bishop."

Yelena resists the urge to tear out her own hair and instead nods gratefully, her fingers pressing into her thighs through the soft pants she'd been given to wear. She'd been offered the option of a wheelchair over the crutches, seeing as her palms were still healing and the sticks were even harder to use without perfectly working hands, but that was too much for Yelena. Being in the hospital again at all was enough trauma to keep her away from people for the rest of her life, but she couldn't leave without Kate. Being confined to a chair would not do.

Natasha arrives with Clint a few minutes later, and the best friends both press kisses to Yelena's head before helping her stand up from her chair. The doctor hands Natasha several pill bottles and a thick paper packet of instructions before shaking her hand, bidding Yelena a speedy recovery, and disappearing into the hallway.

A nurse shows up just as quickly, her smile gentle. "I can take you to see your girlfriend, now, Miss Belova."

Yelena nods gratefully and follows after her with Clint and Natasha on either side, her anxiety building mercilessly in her chest with each heavy step closer to Kate's room. According to Clint, the young archer had been through three surgeries since they'd been admitted, one of which had been on her fucking brain, but all had been 100% successful and she was expected to recover without complications as long as her treatments were administered correctly.

If she woke up.

The door to Kate's room opens, and Yelena's heart drops in her chest at the sight of her girlfriend. She hurries in as fast as she can on the crutches, and ultimately just abandons them on the floor once she's close enough to the bedside chair.

"Kate Bishop," she whimpers softly, a shaking hand reaching out to rest on Kate's arm. The woman looks peaceful enough, but the bandages and wires and tubes turn her into a nightmare. Yelena can feel the tears already falling as she tries and fails to keep her eyes off the more grievous injuries.

Kate's legs are completely covered in wrappings and casts from a total knee replacement surgery and several stitches and broken bones, and her arms are littered with angry bruises and cuts that have minor bandages or some kind of ointment on them, but it's her head that has Yelena's stomach roiling.

The most damage had been done to her skull, she had been told. The whiplash from the crash itself and then hitting the pavement had splintered bone and damaged nerve endings, but the surgery on her brain had thankfully been small and didn't stretch to her spine. Either way, the archer was expected to need physical therapy in order to recover properly when it came to mental capabilities and processes, but seeing as she was still unconscious, they had no idea how extensive the psychological damage was.

"My Kate Bishop," Yelena whispers to herself, twining her fingers with Kate's and laying her head on the edge of the cot. How did this happen? How could this happen to them?

She remembers the ring box she had been carrying around with her for months now and feels a chill shoot down her spine. She already knew that all of their things had been recovered safely, including the ring, but the thought that she had been planning to propose the day of the accident was too much. There was no engagement to talk about- only the fear of a life without Kate Bishop.

Yelena's allowed to stay with her girlfriend until visiting hours are over, and her energy is so sapped that she's barely able to put up a fight before she's back in Clint's car with her sister holding her tightly as she cries. The image is burned into her brain, and it repeats over and over. Kate prone on the ground and covered in blood; Kate unconscious in a hospital bed with brain damage and a broken body.

She takes the pain medicine she's been given and passes out as soon as they get to Clint's house, the sleepy fog a welcome distraction from the hell she was in.

——

Natasha refuses to give her more medicine when she wakes up from the induced haze for the third time, which Yelena logically knows is a fair move, but she's pissed about it nonetheless. The drugs kept the nightmares away, and now with Kate Bishop gone to ward them off and in the fucking hospital, Yelena knows they'll be even worse than normal when they finally catch up to her.

Her grumpiness is temporarily dispelled when her new nephews are plopped carefully in her aching arms, however, and she cries over the two beautiful baby boys as she sinks into the couch and holds them close to her chest. Billy is asleep, his puffy baby lips parted as he smiles in his dreams, but Tommy has his wide green eyes on her with a bewildered look on his squishy face. Yelena can't help but to laugh tearfully as he grips her finger and teethes on it before staring at it in confusion.

"They're beautiful, Tasha," she chokes out, smothering both soft baby heads in kisses and cuddling the boys close.

Natasha's smile is wide, her cheeks glowing as she watches the scene adoringly. "Aren't they?"

Wanda appears from the kitchen and wraps her arms around her wife's waist, laying her cheek against Natasha's shoulder as she gazes at her baby boys and the way her sister-in-law is so gentle with them. "You'd be a good mom, Yelena."

The blonde's tears start anew, and she holds the babies closer. "Kate wants kids," she accounts, rocking her body to keep Billy asleep. He coos softly and presses his head closer to her, giving a tiny yawn while his brother continues to stare. "Fuck, Natasha, she wants kids. She wants kids, and I want kids, and I was gonna propose to her and now she's- fuck. Oh my god."

Wanda carefully takes her sons from Yelena's arms so that Natasha can sit and pull her sister into a tight hug, stroking her hair. "I know, Yelena. I know. She'll be alright. She's gonna wake up soon, and she'll get better, and then you two can get married and make babies and give Billy and Tommy some more cousins and it'll be perfect, okay?"

Yelena's laugh is wobbly and quickly turns back into hiccups, but her sister's words help. "I need to see her. Will you take me to see her?"

"Of course, Yelena. Let's get some food in you and then we can go, alright?"

Yelena nods and accepts the help to hobble to the kitchen table, where Laura is humming and making grilled cheese sandwiches. She plates one with a steaming bowl of tomato soup and puts them on the table in front of Yelena before pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Eat up, honey. Drink some water. Breathe."

Yelena melts against her and wraps Laura in an awkward side hug, missing her own mother desperately. The food is hot and delicious, but the flavor barely registers because of how anxious she is to get back to Kate.

The drive to the hospital is much too long, and Yelena has to keep her eyes closed for the majority of it due to the unexpected terror that spikes every time she sees the road rushing past them. Was she going to be too scared to drive ever again? Would she ever feel strong enough to get back behind a wheel?

As long as her Kate is okay, honestly, she couldn't care less.

Kate is looking significantly better when they get to her room, and the tears are so familiar to Yelena at this point that she doesn't even notice them streaming down her cheeks until Natasha brushes them away. The doctor gives them both an update on the archer's condition, lining out the progress her stitches and broken bones and burns are making, even saying that the physical aspects of her head injury are already mending beautifully and much faster than expected.

But she is still unconscious. And Yelena feels like she's going to snap.

She situates herself in the chair next to Kate's bed, marveling at the significant lack of certain wires and tubes that already aren't needed anymore. The bruising and swelling have gone down in several places, and Yelena can taste the salt in her mouth when she tries to give a wobbly smile as she kisses Kate's forehead.

"Hi, babydoll," she whispers, letting her lips linger on the warm skin. Kate's even breaths are hot on her cheek, and she shuts her eyes tightly, willing her girlfriend to wake up. "Please be okay. I need you to be okay."

She and Natasha stay there with Kate for several hours, her older sister getting a few energy drinks from a vending machine and taking a nap while Yelena just holds Kate's hand and talks to her softly.

"You're going to love Tommy and Billy, Kate Bishop," she whispers, stroking a thumb over Kate's wrist. "They're so squishy and cuddly. I can't wait for you to meet them."

Yelena eventually dozes off at one point, and she's thrown back awake by Natasha frantically calling for a doctor. She shoots up with a headache building around the cut on her forehead to see Kate's fingers twitching in her bandaged palm, and a rush of different emotions dumps itself into her system as her sister carefully pries her from the chair she's in so that a doctor can get to Kate.

Yelena stumbles and whips her head around in a panic, her mind whirling. "Tasha? Tasha, what-"

"She's waking up, Yelena- we need to get out of the way."

They end up in the hallway in another set of chairs once Natasha is able to retrieve Yelena's crutches from the panic of the hospital room, and she's wringing her hands for a few minutes before Natasha has had enough.

"You're gonna tear your bandages off like that," she mutters, gently taking Yelena's hands in her own and holding them away from each other. "Breathe, Yelena. They're gonna take care of her."

Yelena forces air into her lungs and blinks hard, failing to keep the tears from falling. Natasha holds her into her side, her big sister supporting her up. "I need her to be okay, Tasha," she murmurs softly, lips twisting.  "I need my Kate Bishop."

"I know, Lena. Breathe. Kate's strong. She'll be annoying the shit out of us before you know it."

This gets a wobbly laugh out of the blonde, and she presses her forehead against her sister's in gratitude. "Thank you for being here with me."

"I'm never going anywhere."

"You better not. I'll kick your ass."

They wait about thirty minutes before a doctor opens the door to Kate's room and offers them a relieved smile. "We've got her stabilized and she's lookin' fine," he tells them, offering a clipboard for them to look over with information on her vitals mapped out. "She's a bit disoriented, of course, and her body has been inactive for over a week, so that combined with the beating she took is going to leave her exhausted, but she's currently awake enough to eat and talk. Feel free to go in and see her for a moment while we get some treatment plans worked out."

Natasha thanks him and helps a restless Yelena stand and hobble back into the room, where Kate is propped up against a mound of pillows with a fresh pain medication IV drip in her arm and new vital monitors hooked up to her fingers. She spots the two sisters and gives a weary smile, the bags under her eyes dark.

"Hey, Natasha," she croaks, voice rough from not being used for over a week. The sunlight from the window casts her in a honey golden glow, and Yelena doesn't think she's ever seen anything more beautiful than her Kate Bishop alive and well. (As well as she can be.)

Yelena can feel her eyes flood with tears for the millionth time, but she manages to hold them back as she pushes from her sister and hurries to Kate's bedside, cupping the archer's cheek gently and pressing a desperately soft kiss to her dry lips. "I'm so glad you're okay," she chokes out, pressing her forehead to her girlfriend's, mindful of the bandages and stitches.

Kate lets out a noise of surprise, and when Yelena leans back in confusion, something cold and terrifying slips into her heart at the look in Kate's eyes.

"Oh. Um- wow. Not that I'm gonna complain about being kissed by a beautiful woman as soon as I wake up, because, like, damn. But, uh... hi. Are... you a friend of Natasha's?"

-—

Yelena is completely silent on the drive home, her eyes dazed and unfocused and staring absently out of the window with a slack jaw. They were sent back out of the room almost as soon as the doctors realized the one problem with Kate's condition. The one mental process that had been damaged.

Memory loss.

But why only Yelena?

She doesn't hear Natasha trying to talk to her, doesn't register Laura or the dogs or her parents who arrived while they were at the hospital. She doesn't feel the arms around her shoulders, doesn't feel the scalding shower water on her broken skin, doesn't feel the drug induced fog taking her until she's already gone.

And she is desperate to stay gone.

Natasha lets her stay gone a lot longer this time.

It's a few days until she comes back around, her mother's soothing touch in her hair ringing through to her brain as Melina sits silently at her daughter's bedside. The woman gives her a tearful smile when Yelena's eyes land on her and focus, registering her mother after a moment.

"Mama."

"Hello, malaya medveditsa." Melina presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "I am so happy you are here." Yelena knows she doesn't just mean here as in Clint's farm.

"I miss you," Yelena whispers, her lips twisting up as her brain slowly remembers more and more. Alexei appears in the doorway and sits on the other side of the bed, his weight nearly toppling it. He takes her free hand, and Yelena starts to hiccup softly.

"Papa."

Her parents just hold her.

Are you a friend of Natasha's?

——

Yelena turns down every offer to go visit Kate in the hospital, and she can feel her heart wither away more and more each time. But she can't do it. She can't. The way Kate looked at her, that light of unfamiliarity in someone's eyes when a stranger acts like they know them...

God, she kissed her, and Kate doesn't even know who she is.

Why did Kate only forget Yelena?

(Because the author said so. The author can do whatever they want. That is the beauty of fanfiction. It's okay I hate myself too.)

Each new update from Clint and Natasha kills Yelena a little more, and by the time a week has passed since Kate woke up, she's nearly screaming with how restless and lost she feels.

Kate is healing wonderfully and ahead of schedule. They've already got her started on physical and speech therapy. Her stitches can come out soon. Her blood pressure is back to normal. She can eat solid foods without assistance.

She doesn't know who Yelena is.

Her palms are finally healed enough for her to use her hands at 100%, so she starts working out in her room- pull ups on the door frame, mostly. Her ankle still has a boot on it, which means no runs yet.

It makes her want to die.

The day that Kate is scheduled to be discharged, Yelena finds herself stealing Natasha's car and driving so far out into the countryside that her ass is numb and not a single speck of civilization can be found. The boot and nervousness can only stop her so much.

She has several missed calls from her sister, but doesn't bother to return them until she's sure that the location for her phone is turned off.

"Where the hell are you?"

Yelena frowns slightly at the harshness in her sister's tone, but she knows it's deserved. "Out."

"Where, Yelena."

"I don't know, actually. Somewhere. Far."

"Jesus Christ, Yelena. You scared the shit out of us."

Yelena is silent for a moment, but then she forces the words out. "How's Kate?"

It's Natasha's turn to be quiet. "She's good. She's back at the house now. She... she keeps asking about you."

The breath feels like it's been punched from Yelena's body. "She what?"

"Well, it's probably nagging at her that a woman she doesn't recognize kissed her and then never came to see her again."

"That's not fair, Tasha," Yelena whispers.

"No, I know it's not. I'm sorry. It's just... do you know what you want to do about it?"

"What's there to do, Tasha? The love of my life doesn't know who I am. Sounds simple enough."

"You're not gonna try to help her remember?"

"The way I see it, she needs to be able to focus on getting better without some stranger claiming she's her girlfriend and causing her even more problems. She wouldn't-" Yelena stops and sucks in a breath as she leans her head on the car, eyes blurring with tears. "It's my fault, Tasha. It's my fault she almost died."

"Yelena."

"I don't care if that's stupid and childish. I want to stay away from her, okay? Please. I can't do this. I can't stand for her to look at me and not know who I am."

"But what if there's a chance for her to remember?" Natasha says weakly. "What about the ring, Yelena?"

Yelena hangs up, tosses her phone into the car, and slides down into the grass to curl in on herself and let the sobs fall from her mouth.

Fuck the ring.

Fuck everything.

——

Yelena returns to the farm only to drop off Natasha's car and pack her bag, throwing the duffel over her shoulder and heading back down the stairs towards the front door as quietly as she can. She's nearly there when a voice sounds from the couch in the main room, and her blood chills.

"You're Natasha's sister, right?"

Yelena's head turns slowly to see Kate Bishop laid across the couch, her legs and back both propped up on pillows with a blanket over her lap and a compression bandage around her forehead. Her heart is trying to decide between beating an extra million times per minute or just stopping entirely.

"What?" she chokes out, something hot and uncomfortable already building in her chest.

"Are you Natasha's sister?" Kate sits up a little more, the action making her wince. Yelena is moving towards her to help her before she can stop herself, but Kate accepts the offered hand with a look of appreciation. There's a fucking tingle when their skin touches.

"Yes, I am," Yelena says roughly, taking a rushed step back. There must be something concerning in her eyes, because Kate's brow furrows softly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice is stiff. The blood is pounding too loudly in her ears, and the backs of her eyes are burning so hot she can barely see. "I'm glad you're alright, Kate." Yelena turns quickly and hurries for the door, but Kate's voice stops her again.

"This is yours, Yelena. Natasha found it in between the couch cushions when she was setting it up for me and asked if I could give it to you when you got back."

Shit.

"Yelena?"

She doesn't have to turn back around to know that Kate is holding the ring box in the very hand that was originally supposed to wear the jewel in the first place.

"Ask Natasha to hold onto it for me, will you?" Yelena says roughly, putting her hand on the doorknob.

"I know you, don't I?"

Yelena slumps forward and leans her head on the door heavily, the sobs already threatening to break loose. I can't do this. "Did Tasha tell you something?"

"Nobody has told me anything. It's driving me fucking crazy." Kate's voice is low and agitated. "They said I have memory loss, but they won't tell me what I've forgotten. Only details from the crash I was in. But you're on my lock screen and there's a Polaroid of us in the back of my phone."

Yelena can feel herself start to hyperventilate, but she clamps down on it and forces her chest to stay still.

"Were you in the crash, too? Is that what happened to your foot?"

She's getting dizzy.

"Who are you to me, Yelena?"

The edges of her vision are going dark.

"Yelena?"

She shoves down on the door handle and lurches forward out of the house, barely managing to get past the threshold before stumbling and crashing down onto the porch as her eyes roll back and her chest screams at her to breathe. But she can't. She can't breathe. Everything is too tight and too hot and she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't-

——

Yelena's head is foggy from the remnants of a nightmare, but a face appears in the blur of her vision and looms over her.

"I can't tell who you are," she croaks, "but if you don't get out of my face, I'm going to punch you."

Natasha's chuckle sounds forced as she leans back. "Fair enough."

"Jesus Christ. What happened this time?"

"You passed out on the porch. Kate said she thinks you were having a panic attack."

Fuck.

"I can't do this, Tasha. I can't do this."

"She wants to see you."

"I can't." Yelena's eyes well up and she presses her fists into them, mouth twisting painfully as a broken wail splits her throat. "I can't do this. I barely made it through her getting to know me the first time, Tasha. I can't do it again. I can't tell her about all the people I've killed again. I can't watch her face when she finds out how much blood I've spilt. I can't do it."

"Yelena-"

"I don't deserve her, Natasha!"

Her sister is quiet, a firm hand resting on her shoulder and squeezing. Yelena's body rocks with hiccups, and the despair in her blood is thick.

"How long have you been having worries about your relationship with Kate, Yelena?" Natasha asks softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from her baby sister's face.

Yelena doesn't respond for a few minutes as she tries to get her breathing back under control, and Natasha helps her sit up before getting her a glass of water and some of her non-drowsy pain medication.

"A while, I guess," she mutters lowly, staring sorrowfully down into the cup as she clasps it between her palms. The cold glass is soothing on her palms, which may be fully healed but are still easily aggravated. "Like I'm not enough for her. She needs more. I can't give her more."

"And you still wanted to propose?"

"I thought that maybe it would fix me."

Natasha pulls Yelena into her chest and holds her tight, kissing her hair.

"I thought that maybe if we got married, I wouldn't be scared anymore. It would be cemented, her and me. She wouldn't say yes if she wasn't sure, right?" Yelena whispers, tears pooling and dripping onto Natasha's sweater.

"But should you propose in the first place if you're not 100% sure about it yourself?" Natasha tucks away another strand of hair, cupping her sister's cheek.

"But I- I am sure, Tasha. I want Kate Bishop forever. Just my Kate Bishop. She's all I need."

"What makes you think she doesn't feel the same way about you, Yelena?"

"Because I-" She stops, bottom lip quivering as her shoulders shake. "I'm a mess. I'm broken, Tasha," she whispers, eyes blurry. "She deserves someone who isn't broken."

Natasha tuts and cups Yelena's face with both hands, leveling their stares. "Yelena. Honey. We're all a little broken." She kisses the healing cut on her forehead. "Kate loves you. Even now. I can see it. Wanda can see it. Clint and Laura and the kids and the twins and the dogs can see it." Yelena hiccups a small laugh. "She may not remember the face, but she sure as hell remembers the feeling. She sees you and instinctively feels love."

"Do you really think so?" Yelena whispers after a moment, sniffing softly.

Natasha's smile is sad but assuring. "I do. She just needs to be given a chance to remember."

"What if she's different? What if she has an out and doesn't want me? What if she hates me, Natasha?"

"Then we learn and adapt- and I don't think that'll happen." Her sister leans their foreheads together, muttering soothingly. "It's gonna be okay. I'll be here no matter what happens, you know that."

They stay that way for a moment until the door opens and Wanda appears with Billy asleep in her arms, smiling softly at the two sisters. Natasha seems to glow when she spots her wife, and she stands to hug the woman and kiss both her and her son. "Hi, detka."

Wanda hums and kisses Nat softly, then takes her spot on the bed next to Yelena. "I thought a good baby cuddle might help you feel better."

"You know me so well," Yelena jokes softly, holding her arms out for the baby. Billy is placed gently into them, and she cradles him close, pressing her lips to his soft head and inhaling his baby smell. "Fresh baby," she whispers with a grin, looking at him adoringly.

Natasha cackles and her wife scowls good-naturedly, slapping her arm. "That's exactly what I said when I saw them for the first time!"

"I was exhausted, and she went straight for the boys first, only to fucking say fresh baby," Wanda gripes, but her eyes are soft and she loops an arm around Natasha's waist.

Yelena smiles and laughs softly, bouncing the baby gently as he shifts and yawns, his eyes fortunately staying closed. "Hello, tiny boy," she whispers to him, stroking a knuckle over his soft hair and squishy cheeks. "You are so precious."

"Kate is holding Tommy right now, if you want to go see her?" Wanda offers carefully, Natasha squeezing her hip.

Yelena pauses and looks up at them, brow furrowed.

"She has a really high chance of gaining all of her memory back if she's able to interact with what she's forgotten, Yelena," Natasha says gently, leaning her cheek against her wife's head.

The blonde sucks at her lip anxiously, glancing back down to the sleeping baby in her arms. He gives another big yawn and stretches his pudgy fingers out, eyes cracking open to look up at her. "What do you think, Billy Boy Baby?" Yelena whispers, tapping his nose softly. "Should we go visit Kate Bishop and your brother?"

He smiles sleepily before yawning again and snuggling back into her arms.

"I guess that's a yes," Yelena murmurs. She looks back up at Wanda and Natasha, eyes stinging. "I don't know if I can do it. I'm scared, Tasha. What if I can't do it?"

Her sister moves back towards her and hugs Yelena's shoulders. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Yelena. Give yourself a chance, okay?"

"...Okay."

Kate is sitting up on the couch with the footrest up and Tommy perched happily in her lap when Yelena appears in the main room, Wanda and Natasha right behind her. She's not allowed to walk and hold Billy at the same time due to her boot, but once she's sat down in a chair next to the couch, they place the baby back in her arms. Kate watches her closely the whole time, absentmindedly patting Tommy's back.

Yelena waits until the two other women have left the room before glancing up and meeting Kate's gaze, heart pounding against her ribs. "Hi, Kate Bishop."

The archer's smile is beaming, recognition shining in her eyes. "Hi, Yelena."

——

By the time Kate's knee is healed up enough for her to use a cane instead of a walker, she and Yelena have gone back to spending almost every waking moment together. More and more pieces of her memory come back every day the more they talk, and everyone else can see Kate falling in love with Yelena all over again.

And she's not shy about it, either. The first thing that she's filled in on is the timeline of their relationship, spanning from when they first met at a surprise party Natasha was throwing for Clint, to when they started dating, their first kiss, their first time together, the adventures they'd been on, all the way up to the car crash.

With all of this in mind, Kate figures there's no reason for her to hold back when she starts regaining memories and therefore feelings. She notices how beautiful Yelena's smile is, so she tells her. She remembers the way her face looks when she comes, and doesn't even hesitate before letting Yelena know that it's one of the hottest things she's ever seen.

"Can I kiss you?" Kate asks one evening, staring up at Yelena from where her head is resting in the blonde's lap. Yelena's hands go still, the tv screen blaring red when her character dies, but she's unbothered.

"What?" She glances down at Kate, whose head bandages are already gone.

"Can I kiss you?" she repeats, smiling wide. She reaches a hand up to cup Yelena's face, which is already red. Another thing she had gotten to learn about her girlfriend again- Yelena appeared so stoic, but when Kate flirted even a little bit, she blushed like a fucking tomato.

"Are you sure?" Yelena frowns and brushes a hand through Kate's hair, and the woman purrs happily, her eyes closing with content. Good lord, she was adorable. "You don't have to. I'm not rushing either of us. We have all the time in the world now, detka."

Kate smiles lazily and looks back up at her girlfriend- god, that word sounded so good- and gives a soft nod. "I'm sure. Yes. Please."

Yelena's breath hitches, and she puts the controller that she's still holding down to stroke a knuckle over Kate's cheek. "You're sure-sure?" she whispers, eyes hooded as they dart to Kate's lips. She would be lying, of course, if she said she hadn't wanted to kiss the archer breathless from the moment she'd come out of her coma, but after kissing Kate before realizing the woman didn't recognize her, she had stayed away from the topic out of shame.

Kate's own breath catches at the look on Yelena's face, and she grabs the hand that Yelena has on her face softly, closing her eyes and pressing her lips against the calloused palm. "I'm sure-sure."

Yelena can feel her heart thudding against her ribs, and she feels like a teenager again, spotting Kate for the first time through a crowd of people she wished she could avoid. "Okay," she whispers, shifting and cupping Kate's face gently.

"Okay?" The archer smiles almost shyly, lashes fluttering.

"Okay." Yelena leans down and presses her lips to Kate's ever so softly, breathing the archer in and feeling herself already getting high on the scent of flannel and pine.

She breaks off, and Kate stares at her, starstruck. "Wow," she mumbles, lips parted.

Yelena laughs softly, her cheeks burning. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Kate leans up and captures Yelena's mouth in hers again, cupping the back of her head and kissing her hard. The blonde groans and wraps her arms around the archer, pressing them both carefully into the couch.

Yelena hisses a sigh and opens her mouth a little wider when Kate bites softly at her bottom lip, and the woman's tongue licks past them heatedly.

Jesus Christ, she had missed this.

Yelena tangles her hand into Kate's dark hair and tugs at it softly, earning a soft gasp from her before the blonde moves down her neck, trailing her lips along the strong jawline and nipping at her pulse.

"I love you, Kate Bishop," she growls softly, sucking a bruise into the soft skin under the archer's ear and soothing over it with her tongue. Kate pants breathlessly into her ear, and holy shit Yelena is turned on.

"Maybe wait to bang it out until Kate is fully healed?"

And just like that, the spell is broken, and Yelena promptly falls off of the couch. Classic.

"Наташа, клянусь Богом, я надеру тебе задницу!" she yells at her sister as she sits up, her cheeks burning furiously. Kate's face is just as red as hers, but there's a mischievous light in her eyes that lights Yelena's stomach on fire.

Natasha cackles so hard that she doubles over with her arms around her stomach, wiping tears from her eyes. Yelena is fuming. Kate is blushing. No one is being productive.

"Sorry, sorry- I had to." Natasha pauses, her grin wicked. "Actually, no, I'm not sorry. You two are both so fucking horny for each other and it's just the funniest thing ever. I can't with y'all."

Yelena can only gape at her sister, who shrugs and heads up the stairs. "Wanda is taking a nap, so keep it quiet, will you?"

She swears colorfully under her breath and huffs, but her blood feels like lightning zaps through it when Kate's hand reaches over and cups her chin, her head twisted to face the archer.

"Don't pout, poor girl. Are you really horny for me?"

Yelena's face goes supernova.

Fuck you, Natasha.

"Fuck you, Kate Bishop," she says out loud.

Her girlfriend's smile is sly. "Literally, I hope?"

"Kate!"

The archer cackles and slumps back on the couch, holding her aching stomach. "You're too cute, baby."

Yelena only grumbles, scowling as she tries to decide if tickling Kate and possibly reopening any injuries would be worth it. Kate sees her face and stops abruptly, pointing.

"Yelena Belova, you are not allowed to tickle me," she warns, raising a brow.

Yelena narrows her eyes and leans into her girlfriend's face, somehow gaining the bravado to smirk in a way she knew always got Kate going. "How about we get married and I show you just how hard I can tickle you, Kate Bishop?"

Kate squints, the tips of her ears red. "I can't tell if you're proposing or threatening me with a good time."

The blonde shrugs. "Why not both?"

Her girlfriend smiles brightly, her eyes wide. "Are you seriously fucking proposing to me right now, Yelena Belova?"

"Maybe?"

Kate hums roughly and leans forward to kiss her hard, pressing her palm to the back of Yelena's head to hold her closer. "You must really like me, Miss Belova," she whispers in between breaths, "to propose- after kissing me only once- since I even remembered who you are."

Yelena smiles into Kate's lips and slowly maneuvers to stand up while still kissing her, moving forward to straddle the archer's lap. Kate lets out a soft noise, and Yelena silences it, tracing her tongue along the archer's soft bottom lip and tugging it between her teeth.

"Are you guys serious right now?"

Yelena just kisses Kate harder and takes a first of dark hair, swallowing every noise and moan her girlfriend makes while flipping Natasha off from where her sister had appeared at the top of the stairs. The redhead just groans and turns right back around, muttering under her breath. "I just wanted a fucking sandwich."

Yelena huffs a laugh and breaks off from Kate for a small moment, both of them breathing hard with flushed cheeks and warm stomachs. "Yes, Kate Bishop. I like you. Quite a bit, actually, I hope you've noticed."

Kate can only nod, her eyes wide and a little unfocused. She is the poster child of freshly kissed.

Yelena grins and kisses her cheek softly, whispering against the soft skin. "Will you marry me, Kate Bishop?"

[zmediaoutlet]

"So how was it?" Dean says.

Sam squints at him. Crazy-bright day, light reflecting off every car, bouncing back from the license plate frame on the Buick in front of them. "How was what?"

He gets a significant look but then there's a honk and Dean waves irritably at the guy behind them, moves forward a half car-length like that means something. Sam said they should've just taken 87 instead of the state highway, but apparently that wouldn't have been as good a drive, so here they are, bumper to bumper. Some accident they can't see up ahead.

"Dean," Sam says, when they're essentially parked again. "How was what?"

Dean stretches back, knees spread wide around the steering wheel. "Uh, let's see," he says, and sucks his lower lip like he's really thinking. "The tonsil hockey? The tongue tango? The vertical v-grab—"

"You're the worst," Sam says, loudly, and Dean grins whitely out at the traffic. Relaxed. Probably more relaxed now that Sam feels blood rising in his cheeks, like he really did something. The dick. They roll forward another few feet and Sam braces his elbow on the open window, looking out at the growing green, the budding trees. Springtime in upstate New York, not the worst it could be.

"Sarah seemed like she'd be good at it," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, smacks vaguely to his left, catches leather jacket. Dean swats his hand away. "Hey, that ain't a dig. I admire a chick who'll really go for it. And, buddy, the way she was looking at you."

Sometimes it's like he thinks Sam's blind. Like, the only reason is that he doesn't notice. He sucks the inside of his cheek, squints out at the random field out past the highway. Cows, in the distance. "She was good at it," he says, finally. Soft where it counted, confident in the way that a lot of gorgeous girls are. Curving into his body but not limp or just opening her mouth for it and waiting for him to be done. Her tongue tasted like earl grey tea. He can taste it now, and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

Dean's been quiet, letting off the brake and rolling forward a carlength at a time. "You want to…" he starts, but what goes there? They weren't going to stay. They never were. Even an extra day didn't make sense, because what was going to happen—Sam taking the open invite, letting himself try, knowing that in the motel across town Dean was cooling his heels with motel porn and a takeout pizza, waiting for Sam to shoot his load so they'd be ready to pack up and leave the state? No, that wasn't going to happen. Not fair to Sarah, no matter if Sam explained the score, and it wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair, either, to…

More honking, somewhere behind them. They check the rearview at the same time, annoyed, and Dean mutters, "Like that helps?"

Sam turns on his side of the bench, putting his back to the window. Dean glances at him and then looks back out at the cars, frowning. "What do you think I'm missing?" Sam says. "With this stuff. Perfume? Long hair?"

"Perfume I can do, but I draw the line at wearing a wig for you," Dean says. Sam huffs and Dean glances over at him again, smiling. Kind of smiling anyway. "Not trying to—to be weird about it, or pick a fight or anything, Sammy. I just know you wanted…" He shakes his head, slouches back on the bench with two fingers hooked low on the steering wheel. "I don't want you to be—missing anything. I know, we got a job, and it's important. I'm not, like, trying to get you to move into a two-bedroom in New Paltz. I just don't want you to hate this any more than you do already."

Traffic judders to a halt again. Sam nods, looks out at the blinding chrome. His eyes smart. He sniffs, and drags his hand over his face, and then leans over the bench seat and gets his hand on Dean's jaw and turns his face and kisses him. Dean's lips startle open and Sam closes his eyes and licks in, pressing deep, Dean's hand gripping his jacket and Dean's breath filling his mouth. Coffee, salt. Sam tips so his forehead's against Dean's, their noses brushing. "Don't worry about what I'm missing," Sam says.

Dean's knuckles against his chest. He breathes in, shaky.

Honking. Dean takes a quick deep breath and pulls back, doesn't look at Sam. Traffic opening maybe, a little, ahead. They slide forward a car-length and then another. "Might make it to Allentown before dark after all," he says. His ear's pink. Sam sits back into the corner of the bench and smiles at the side of his head. "Shut up," Dean says, and Sam smiles out the window instead, the grown-grass verge starting to blur as they pick up speed. He wasn't going to say a thing.

[sadgirlbaby]

A KIDNAPPER FALLING FOR HIS HOSTAGE - kai anderson x fem!reader (smut)

CW: cussing, kidnapping, dirty talk (a bit), explicit sexual speaking, dick riding, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, cumming

SUMMARY: kai kidnapped you and brought you to his car so he could have driven home and have taken you there. you thoght about a smart escape plan and only got one idea that messed up kai’s plan.

"don't speak until I tell you to do that." a male voice ordered while opening the door of his car and pushing you in. you sat on the passenger seat and kept quiet. you didn't even see your kidnapper as he covered your face with a big and heavy bag.

you barely could breathe under that shit but your kidnapper didn't care.

you tried to keep calm as you heard his steps walking around the car. he opened the door and got in the car ready to drive, then he took off his clown mask and threw it in the backseat.

"where are we going..?" your voice trembled.

"I told you to shut up." he firmly said.

you swallowed in fear as he responded to you. you were not watching him but you could feel the bad energy in the car. you knew he didn't have anything good in his mind.

"take your bag off and look where we're going by yourself" he affirmed.

"I can't. my hands are tied" you said to him. he sighed annoyed and leaned over to take the bag off your head.

he looked at you, probably seeing you for the first time as he had kidnapped you from the behind.

you looked at him too noticing that he was pretty young. the bag was covering your ears so you didn't hear his voice clearly and firstly thought he was in his forties of fifties.

he stared at you for about twenty seconds - he gazed at your lips in particular.

he got back to his seat and started the car. as soon as he pressed the accelerator, you jolted in surpise because he definitely started driving too fast. it was night so it was even more dangerous.

you thought that you were going to die so you started praying in your mind for someone to save your life.

"can I speak now?" you asked him right when he stopped at the red traffic light.

"yes, you can" his tone was pretty annoyed.

"who are you?"

"who do you think I am?" he raised his voice a bit and you immediately regretted speaking.

the traffic light turned green and he restarted driving. you looked at the road through the window and started to think about an escape plan. you surely did not have many chances to escape so you had to choose a good plan and it had to work.

"I like your hair" you said.

he pressed the accelerator with further strength and moved his look from the road to your figure. he just stared at you, studying your face and body and rethinking about what you just said.

you looked at him back waiting for some reaction but he laid his eyes on the road again instead.

you sighed as you failed in your intentions but then you got another idea.

as soon as he stopped at the red light, you attempted to get on him despite your tied hands. you surprisingly made it and settled on his lap.

he looked at you confused and mad at the same time, he wanted to yell at you or probably kill you instantly but he couldn’t do anything of these things as you quickly connected your lips to his.

he didn’t kiss you back at first, he just wanted to take you off him but when you asked the permission to get your tongue in his mouth, he allowed you to do that.

so he closed his eyes and placed his hands on your hips making you gasp to his firm grip. the kiss got lustful and rough, making your kidnapper a literal hot mess under you.

you suddenly heard a honk beeping and you immediately stopped kissing. the traffic light was green so he had to move.

you let out a soft laugh and moved aside so that he could see the road to drive. you stayed above him, resting yourself on his chest and you surprisingly didn’t get any complaining from him.

“fuck it” he said and suddenly changed direction. the turn was abrupt so you tried to cling onto your kidnapper attempting not to fall.

“what was that?” you asked.

“I changed my mind. we’re going in an empty parking, preferably abandoned.” he sharply replied.

in about five minutes you got in a parking with just two cars parked in.

“untie my hands” you asked.

he looked at you and hesitated for a second but then he satisfied your request.

you immediately cupped his face and kissed him, then you slowly let your arms slide around his neck.

“what’s your name?”

“mhh… kai” he mumbled against your lips.

“what’s yours, baby?”

“y/n”.

you kept kissing him until you stood up a bit and took your shirt off, showing him your sexy black bra made of fabric and and lace.

he looked at you furiously as this wasn’t his initial plan, he tried to resist and handle the situation but he couldn’t.

you grabbed his leather jacket and took it off, then you took his black shirt off as well. he gazed at you and watched every single movement of yours.

you had a skirt so all you had to do was taking your panties off and that’s what you did. after that, kai lifted his waist a bit so he could pull his pants down. in just one move he took off either his pants both his boxer.

“ride me.” he ordered you.

you grabbed his erection and lined it up with your entrance. you both gasped, then you slowly started bouncing on his cock to get yourself used to his size.

“f-faster, baby…” he panted.

you looked at him leaning his head back and you started to bounce faster. this action got the whole car moving.

“mhh f-fuck…” he groaned and followed your movements with his waist by moving it upwards. he was also guiding you with his hands so he could still have the situation under his control.

your hands were on kai’s shoulders, this position helped you to keep bouncing.

“t-thrust harder baby… I-I know y-you can…”

you listened to him and did what he asked. kai lowered your bra and cupped one of your breasts. he started playing with your nipple, then he put it in his mouth making you moan louder.

his mouth slid up to your chest, then to your neck. he started leaving wet kissing on your skin and this just drove you over the edge.

as you released your juices, kai released his seed too as your orgasm made him orgasm as well.

you slowed down and let yourself fall on kai’s chest, still breathless and with your mouth half-opened.

kai’s hand moved up and got placed on your back. his breath was labored but soon got regular again.

“would you like to come to my house?” he asked gazing at you.

“why not, but first… let me get dressed” you said and got off him. you put your clothes on again and opened the car door.

“what are you doing?” he asked while watching you getting out of his car.

you looked at him for a second but then you started running away. you turned around just a couple of times but kai wasn’t chasing you - he stayed in the car watching you leaving him.

you immediately felt a feeling of freedom and you couldn’t wait to come back home to your family.

a bad sensation gained the upper hand then - the feeling of being guilty even if kai was the kidnapper. you felt guilty for having left him in his car after had had sex with him.

this was your plan but you couldn’t help blaming yourself while running away. maybe he wasn’t that bad? maybe you should’ve stayed with him but it was too late for regrets.

reminder: requests are always open and you can request about whoever you want. currently taking requests for ahs only!

note: bad ending huh? sorry :)

taglist: @demxnicprxncess @kitwalkersgfff @charsdunkie @imdeaddearnotstupid

-> click on the ask/request bottom or just comment if you want to be added in my taglist!

[tennessoui]

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t. 

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are. 

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day? 

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him. 

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side. 

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures. 

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy. 

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head. 

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots. 

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

[headhedgehog]

Baby Fever (Pro!Mikage ReoxFemOC)

Reo pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and smiled at the fan holding a jersey out for his signature. His team had just won their league's championship cup. The adrenaline of the win was slowly leaving his body, falling into a gentle buzz. Around him, his teammates' families were starting to find them, small, intimate celebrations breaking out along the sidelines.

He turned to look for his fiancee, Ana, wondering how long it would take her to get to the field from the box where she'd watched the game with other players' guests. A few feet away, Kunigami was lifting his baby boy in the air, his older daughters clinging to both his legs. Behind him, Barou hugged his wife and planted a kiss on his young daughter's hair. Isagi's girlfriend, hand on her new baby bump, was gingerly making her way to meet him.

An unexpected feeling bloomed in Reo's chest. He and his fiancee hadn't talked seriously about children, other than agreeing they were both open to the idea, eventually. But watching his teammates with their families hit him hard. He felt like he might cry.

He wanted what they had so badly.

Ana arrived and wrapped her arms around him, cheering and congratulating him. In a fog, he fought to come back to the present and join the celebrations.

_____________________________

The drive home was quiet. Reo stared out the window as Ana drove, his mind racing. He wanted a baby. He actually wanted a baby, wanted to hold a tiny person with Ana's eyes and his hair and be their daddy. He wanted to set up playdates with Kunigami and Isagi's kids and ask Barou's daughter to babysit.

He must've been too quiet, because when Ana reached a stoplight, she turned to face him.

"What's wrong, Reo? You just won a championship and you've barely said a word since we left the stadium."

Reo looked at her, anxiety spiking though him. Was this really the time to spring such a bombshell on her?

Better now than after the wedding, he supposed.

"I was watching the other guys with their families and...I want that. I want to have a baby."

Ana blinked at him. Another wave of anxiety washed over him, but then she smiled.

"Really?"

Before Reo could answer, the car behind them honked. The light had turned green. They laughed, and Ana turned back to the road.

"I was panicking a little because I held Kunigami's baby while Suki went to the bathroom and I was totally smitten. Was honestly spiraling because we hadn't talked about kids since before you proposed and I didn't know how to bring it up."

Reo felt tears welling in his eyes but didn't try to stop them. "Did we just decide to try for a baby?"

Ana pulled into their parking garage and engaged the brake. She threw her arms around his neck. "Yeah, I think we did."

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

They were supposed to join the rest of the team for a post-win celebration, but they never made it. They'd barely closed the front door to their apartment before they were tearing at each other's clothes, leaving a trail to their bed.

Reo kissed Ana and gently guided her to lay on her back, his knee nudging her knees apart. His fingers found her wet core, coaxed deep moans out of her as he fisted his cock. She hooked her legs around his hips, pulled him closer; he laughed and obliged, settling on the bed between her legs and pushing his cock into her folds. He rested on his elbows, torso against hers, mouth on her nipple, hips thrusting slowly.

"That feel good, baby?" he asked, voice low. "Want me to fill you up? Make you a momma?"

Ana responded by kissing him deeply and wrapping her legs around his waist.

When Reo's climax came, he allowed himself to spill into her, reveling in the feeling of his cum filling her. He rolled off her and pulled a pillow under her hips.

"I know it's going to take a while, but might as well build the habit," he said sheepishly as he lay down next to her. Ana laughed and put her head on his chest. Reo kissed her forehead and rested a hand on her stomach.

"I can't wait to see you pregnant," he said. His voice was thick, his exhaustion catching up with him.

"I can't wait to see you holding our baby," Ana said. "You're going to be such a good dad, Reo."

He hummed. Before long he was asleep with a smile on his face.

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

Six months later, Reo was on a flight, headed for an international tournament. Ana never made him feel bad about traveling for work; lately she'd been keeping busy with wedding preparations. Reo's mother, still on shaky ground with her son after spending so much of his childhood trying to dictate his life, had immediately taken to Ana and was planning to take her wedding dress shopping while Reo was away. Reo tried not to worry about it; he was glad his mom was trying to rebuild their relationship, but he was nervous about exposing Ana to his parents' judgement.

Next to him, Kunigami was happily chatting about his son's growth. He showed Reo a video of the little boy taking shaky steps, supported by one of his sisters. Reo melted watching the baby, his throat tight. He'd known Ana wouldn't get pregnant immediately, but it didn't stop his heart from aching a bit when he saw someone else with a little one.

"You okay dude?" Kunigami asked when he caught a glimpse of Reo's shiny eyes.

"Yeah," Reo said, and glanced around to see if anyone else could hear. "Just in my feelings I guess. Ana and I are trying to get pregnant. Can't help getting a little excited thinking about babies."

"That's amazing, congrats Reo!" Kunigami shoved his shoulder playfully.

"It's only been six months but I'm impatient," Reo laughed. "I didn't realize how badly I wanted a family, but now that I know it's like, all I can think about."

"Yeah, crazy isn't it? It's worth it though. Just wait til you've got your kid in your arms, man, it's the best thing in the world," Kunigami put a hand on Reo's shoulder, squeezed it. "You're gonna love it."

Reo smiled and settled into his seat.

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

Back in their apartment, Reo's mother arrived to find Ana in the bathroom staring at a pregnancy test.

"Ana?"

The younger woman turned around, her face wet. "I'm pregnant."

Reo's mother pulled Ana into a tight hug, dress shopping entirely forgotten.

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

Reo returned a week later to find a wrapped gift waiting on the dining table.

"What's this?" he asked. Ana smiled and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"Birthday present."

"My birthday isn't until next week."

"Your gift came early. Open it."

Reo side-eyed her but unwrapped the box. Inside, he found a tiny jersey with his name and number on the back.

Confused, he turned to see Ana grinning with a hand on her still-flat belly. Reo's eyes widened.

"Are you...?"

She nodded. Before she could say anything, he had her wrapped in his arms, covering her in kisses.

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

Ana's pregnancy went smoothly, but no one on Reo's team would have known that based on his behavior. He refused to leave his phone behind when he practiced, and any message or call from her was answered immediately. He spent his time off researching OBGYNs and pediatricians, shopping for baby supplies, and bothering the other dads on his team for information.

When Ana finally went into labor, Reo was beside himself, anxiety spiking through him with each of her contractions. He held her but hand to be reminded to breathe more than Ana did; he only came to his senses when Ana threatened to have him thrown out if he didn't calm down.

Finally, a strong cry broke through the chaos of the delivery room, and time seemed to stand still. A nurse laid the baby on Ana's chest; someone in the room announced it was a girl.

A daughter, Reo thought, all other ideas silenced. We have a daughter.

Eventually Ana handed him the tiny girl, a tuft of purple hair framing her equally purple eyes. As he sat next to Ana and held his daughter, tears falling freely, Reo knew Kunigami was right. This was the best thing in the entire world.

[kairakeiji]

reckless driver | tartaglia

modern au - they’re driving lol

“you kissed me.”

you only shake your head as childe stares at you, “keep your eyes on the road.”

and he only blinks, “you kissed me.”

so you turn to him. “why aren’t your eyes on the road?” he doesn’t waiver, so you try again, “why are you staring at me?”

his eyes are still on you, absolutely dumbfounded. “at the red light,” he mumbles. “you kissed me, why?”

your eyes leave his the second his lock yours, “you’re going too fast ajax,” you tell him. “please just keep your eyes forward.”

but he doesn’t waiver, “answer my question,”and you can hear a lilt of desparation in his voice. “what did it mean to you?”

“ajax,” you stutter, “what?”

“what do i mean to you?”

and you hesitate, “i don’t know,” before your eyes turn back to the road, “please, just keep your eyes forward. let’s just focus on getting back.”

“you don’t know?”

“i don’t,” you repeat voice becoming more stern before your eyes turn wide. “ajax, the light’s red.”

and his foot slams the breaks, sending you both lunging forward.

“what the hell,” you exclaim. “please, keep your eyes on the road, if you need to talk we can pull over.”

“i know what it mean to me,” ajax cuts in.

and you only sigh, “okay then.”

“ask me.”

“ask you what?”

“what the kiss meant.”

“if i do will you focus on the road?”

and he nods, “yes.”

“okay,” you mumble, stomach beginning to churn. “what did it mean to you?”

“it meant that some part of you feels as i do,” ajax starts as a car honks behind you both, the light unknowingly shifted green. “that some part of you felt spurred enough to do the one thing i’ve always dreamed of,” he continues as he moves forward, eyes now fixed on the road ahead.

“i kissed you,” you mumble to no one in particular.

“yes, you did.”

“do you like me?” you softly question.

he answers not even a beat later, “of course i do.”

you hesitate, “do you love me?”

“yes i do,” he answers before a beat of silence passes. “do you love me?” he asks you.

and all you can do is remain silent.

he turns to you as you continue to avoid his gaze, eyes now fixated on the open road ahead. “do you love me?”

“ajax,” you start. “you said you’d focus on the road.”

he only asks once more, “do you love me?”

“not in the way you want me to.”

now he’s the one who goes silent, breath hitching as he stares into the distance, gaze just barely focused on the still straight ahead on the road. the two of you hit another stop light, neither saying a word before ajax continues on.

you glance at the dashboard as the car’s engine revs louder as he makes a right turn, “you’re speeding up,” you point out.

but he only asks once more, “why did you kiss me?”

“you’re speeding up,” you point once more. “ajax, please slow down.”

he meets your gaze, “because i love you.”

“ajax, you’re going too fast.”

“that kiss meant everything to me.”

you turn to him, meeting his gaze with nothing but desparation in your eyes, “ajax please slow down, please focus we’re going to crash.”

but he only asks you softly, eyes pleading for an answer.

“did it mean nothing to you?”

your eyes turn back to the road, widening when you see what’s ahead. “ajax,” you exclaim, hand urgently hitting the center console. “you gotta stop.”

but his eyes only remain on you, recklessly speeding up as if all he can do is beg you for an answer.

“why did you kiss me? please, just answer”

“ajax st-”

based on reckless driver by lizzy mcalpine :)

thanks for reading! reblogs/interactions are incredibly appreciated <33

[youhaveaguineapigwhere]

He Can't Get This

Chapter 1

♡Set in Supernatural S14 Ep14. I recommend rewatching the ep or the crime scene bit ;)♡

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That baby cop, he liked you." 

Dean Winchester slammed the door of the impala closed and reached to start her, his jaw tense and lips slightly drawn as he turned the key. 

Castiel tilted his head towards the hunter from his passenger seat, a little lost. "I'm sorry, what?" He shifted a little, adjusting his coat as Dean put the car in reverse, voice blunt but unassuming.

They'd just figured out that the Gorgon couldn't sense Castiel and Jack with his eyeball premonitions, for lack of a better description (most likely because they weren't human) So Cas and Jack would have to lead the attack when they tracked down the gorgon again. Whatever Dean had said made no sense to the angel. 

Cas' voice was that consistent gruff lull and his hair was stuck up at a little part in the back. Dean practiced restraint for the instinct to reach out and smooth it. 

"Mr. Twunk over there," He retorted, throwing a half hazard gesture towards the crime scene. Cas squinted through the windshield and saw a vaguely familiar blond head of hair popping out of a patrol car. The young officer they had spoken to earlier.

"Probably fresh out of academy too." Dean added, his tone short and irritated as he intrigued Cas' full attention, who furrowed his brows and leaned up in his seat.

"Oh, come on," Dean shot Cas a look, "he totally creamed his pants when you pulled the whole 'deep commanding voice thing', he went stiff as a board, don't tell me you didn't notice." He let a soft huff out of the corner of his mouth, his pink lips upturned in a small smirk, though still betrayed by his wound-tight words as he glanced from the road to Castiel. 

"I was more focused on the demi god and his victims, Dean." Castiel explained slowly. 

"Yeah, sure, not the young guy you got all hot and bothered." 

Cas squinted at Dean suspiciously, "Is this merely about your dislike for police officers, Dean? Or is it something else?" He questioned.

Dean forced out a laugh, "It's not anything Cas, just an observation." 

"That seems... untrue."

"Yeah." Dean chided, "And what are you gonna do about it?" 

Castiel's patience had run thin. "Dean..." he tested firmly. 

A blush crept up behind Dean's collar and he gripped onto baby's steering wheel, adjusting his seating, "I just didn't like the way he looked at you, okay, sue me." He threw his hands up for a breif moment before returning them to the sleek black wheel.

Cas titled his head, the line of his jaw catching a fragment of the afternoon sun as they passed by storefronts with big glass windows. "How did he look at me?" 

"Like he wanted you to bend him over and fuck him into next week." 

"Like how you look at me." 

Cas' voice was wet gravel. 

Dean halted on the brakes, jolting them forward, scarlet blush deepening, "What, no! You.. you know that's not- and before you say a word about what we did that one time in lebanon that was different okay! I don't gawk at you all the time Cas."  

"Different how?" Cas challenged. 

The trafic light turned green and a car behind them honked impatiently, "Okay, geez," Dean muttered as they started moving. "Because... I was super horny and hadn't seen you in what, four months?" he continued, "And you're my best friend dude and you were looking particularly moody that day and yeah, maybe I'm just jealous and a little bitch." He sighed, defeated. 

Cas let out a low chuckle. 

"Oh shut up you smug fuck," Dean reached out and shoved a hand over Castiels face, his own now a particular shade of pink. 

Cas cleared his throat and picked up a level tone as Dean's hand fell away, "You know you can always ask to..."

"Oh yeah, I know," Dean interjected, "Just check in between hunts and saving the world and having Micheal locked up in my head and raising our kid to be like 'oh Cas,' I miss the feel of my skin against yours and how you make me act like a dumb teenager and that night in the cowboy hotel was the best of my life and I can't get you off my mind every time you leave. I got Sammy breathing down my neck constantly cause he knows and just wants to rub it in my face but I won't say anything because I refuse to talk about feelings with a sasquatch or like you know ever and I-." Dean's words started out sarcastic and ended with a desperate pout and Cas gave him a kind look, reaching to rest his hand gingerly on Dean’s thigh as the hunter let out a heavy exhale.  

Cas knew life was never easy, for any of them, but Dean was the most important thing to him, no matter how closed off or stubborn he could be. 

"So, you got jealous when a man looked at me with sexual intentions?"

"Cas, you're making me sound like a little bitch again." Dean huffed, the peachy blush crowding against his freckles a complete contrast with his deep manly tone and set, sloping jawline. 

"My apologies, Dean." Cas stated, his eyes soft, "I wanted to know what was going on, and that only works when you tell me." 

"I know, I know." Dean exhaled, "You know I'm not good at this stuff Cas, but I have missed you.. All this running around.. 'drives me crazy sometimes." Dean nodded his head down and looked up at the road through his eyelashes.

Cas silently noticed how after all these years Dean still seemed to physically shrink in on himself a little, anytime he showed vulnerability. Or rather, he wondered with disdain, who exactly had taught him this trait. The only time he seemed to release himself from those instincts is when he let Castiel have him in bed. And oh, how beautiful Dean was then. Bare and trembling under his hands. Never trying to be smaller.

"I've missed you too, Dean." He comforted, knowing no words could come to match how he felt being so often pulled from the man. He looked out the passenger window, watching the landscape slide by, "You know-" he thought aloud, an idea still churning in his mind, "Rowena still needs time to prepare the tracking spell.." He lowered his voice and gave Dean's thigh a gentle squeeze. 

Dean swallowed and tensed his hands around the steering wheel, seeming much more determined to get to where they were going. 

[zarahjoyce]

MITD Fic: aftermath

Summary:

"Isn't it weird, Hyung?" Jun O tells his brother, just after they've eaten a particularly delicious dinner that Min O had prepared for him. "I felt like... I fell in love with someone without me falling in love with her. Like I miss her all the time but at the same time I don't and it's just--" He rubs his forehead and sighs aloud. "I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes."

or

Jun O, in the aftermath.

Notes:

I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT MOON IN THE DAY THAT I CAN'T STOP MYSELF FROM WRITING THIS... THING IDK.

now also with Ao3 link!

--

Protect Kang Yeong Hwa. I need to keep Kang Yeong Hwa safe.  Jun O finds himself often waking up in the middle of the night, shaking, sweating, breathing hard. The thoughts beat in his mind like a drum, growing louder and louder until he's deafened by them. He drags his hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down, trying to keep his chest from bursting. 

Protect her from what? Why do I need to keep her safe? He doesn't hear any answer, however.

He never did.

And he's left wondering what that was all about for the rest of the night.

-

Min O notices the bags under Jun O's eyes, but never comments on them.

"Did you sleep well?" he asks instead.

No. I never do.

"You know, Hyung," Jun O quietly replies, playing around with his food without any urge to eat them, "I know I told myself that I wouldn't feel curious about--" 

He stops.

Kang Yeong Hwa. Even the mere thought of her name makes Jun O feel a deep sense of... yearning? Longing? For a woman he barely knew. 

Which is ridiculous, of course.

So, he just draws a deep breath.

And forces a smile for his brother's sake. 

"Never mind," he says instead. "What's my schedule for today?"

-

He finds that handling a sword came so natural to him, it felt like he's been doing it his entire life. Like it's an extension of his limb. Like cutting lives is something he did everyday. 

Don't even get him started on how ridiculously easy it was for him to hit a bullseye with an arrow - something he'd been awful at before. 

"Who knew I'd find sageuk dramas so easy to do?" Jun O muses out loud, patting himself on the back for a job well done - according to the director, no less. 

Manager Jang glances at him from the driver's seat. "Yeah," he says, and Jun O frowns at the odd tone of his voice. "Who knew." 

Dismissing that, Jun O gets his phone to scroll for articles praising his acting abilities - as they should - when he blurts out, "You're in contact with Kang Yeong Hwa, right? How is she?"

Thankfully, they were waiting for a green light, giving Manager Jang a chance to actually turn to him and say, "How'd you--"

"You're dating her friend, right? The one she thinks of as her sister. The one who owes her--"

And then Jun O shuts his mouth, and stares at his manager in horror. "I knew that? How do I know that?"

"T-that was what I was about to ask you," Manager Jang replies. "By any chance, do you actually remember--"

The car behind them honks its horn.

Jun O rubs his forehead.

"Drive," he orders Yoon Je. "Just... just drive."

-

By pure chance, his next project was about him being a firefighter. 

Jun O dreaded coming to the fire station. If only because that meant the possibility of coming face to face with--

Kang Yeong Hwa. And his heart skips a beat. 

Manager Jang must have noticed his obvious discomfort. "You know," he says, "if you're worried about seeing Kang--"

"Worried? Who said I'm worried? Are you worried? I'm not worried!" Jun O replies in rapid succession, scoffing all the while. "Why would I be--"

"She actually left yesterday," his manager continues. "For Antartica. So you won't be seeing her anymore."

Jun O stares at his manager.

"--oh," he says.

A beat.

"That's good," Jun O adds. "That she's... gone. That's good."

Except he felt like weeping. 

-

"Isn't it weird, Hyung?" Jun O tells his brother, just after they've eaten a particularly delicious dinner that Min O had prepared for him. "I felt like... I fell in love with someone without me falling in love with her. Like I miss her all the time but at the same time I don't and it's just--" He rubs his forehead and sighs aloud. "I feel like I'm going crazy sometimes."

Min O pats his hand. "Do you want to see her?" 

"No," Jun O replies quickly - which tells him that that was honestly what he was feeling. "No. It'll fade, whatever this is. I just need to bear it. I did beat cancer, of all things. I can beat this phantom feeling too." 

"That's right. Just persevere and you'll win." His brother smiles at him. "You're growing up, Jun O. I'm glad."

Except this didn't feel like growing up.

It just feels like he's lost.

-

But Han Jun O perseveres.

-

The next few years flew by in a hurry. Thankfully, Jun O's schedule had been packed with projects that he hadn't had enough time to mind anything else. 

Today, however, he's scrolling through his phone, browsing through the news to find anything related to him when he spots--

--an article about a miracle firefighter saving lives from a burning building - including a pregnant woman and her three children.

Kang Yeong Hwa, was the firefighter's name, written in bold print. 

And Jun O waits for that achy feeling that haunted him before to envelope him at the mere sight of it.

Except it never came.

Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember the last time he thought of her.

And even now that he is, Jun O doesn't at all feel... overwhelmed. 

Just... happy. At the thought of her living her life and saving lives in the process. 

He sighs and smiles in relief.

I'm free of you, Kang Yeong Hwa. Finally. Guess this means I win.

[junosartsthetic]

Warmth

This fic is my baby. I love her. I’m very proud of myself for this one. Also, my fics have been fucking up on dark-mode mobile so please let me know and I’ll try to fix it. It’s annoying as hell and I’m not 100% sure of the reason. This will be reblogged multiple times by me because Avdol deserves all the love in the world. Thank you. 

Warning(s): fluff, alcohol mention, reader is called miss, I believe that’s all, just cuteness and pining

--

You’d never been to a city like New York City before. The massive buildings at every turn, towering over the bustling streets like parents watching their kids at a playground. People hurried every which way, gloved hands carrying more bags than you thought possible, and yet whisking themselves towards more shopping centers. Every aspect of the neon city glowed at night—red, yellow and green stop lights shimmered against the wet pavement. Strings of lights coiled around every pole, tree, and window, illuminating the snow as it fell and dissipated onto the concrete, soon to be stepped on by ever-moving pedestrians. Cars honked, intermingling with sleigh bells echoing as workers ushered shoppers into their stores, wearing Santa hats and jingling with every movement. There wasn’t a spot in the city where life didn’t reside—stray cats and pigeons scouring for food in the cold cityscape. Paws and claws clicked on the snowy ground. Even a few stray dogs nestled themselves into boxes and under dumpsters, seeking shelter for the night. It was, in fact, one of these dogs that brought you and your companion to New York City.

Even after a day of searching, you hadn’t spotted the small black and white animal anywhere. You supposed it was a big city, and he was a smart dog. In fact, to call him a mere ‘dog’ might be an insult to his character. He possessed something you didn’t think animals could have—a power you and your compatriot shared. A stand. 

Upon hearing of this powerful canine, the Speedwagon foundation ushered you both off, handing you a small file with the little information they had on the mutt. There wasn’t much inside—just his breed, a possible stand, and a name. Iggy. In bold red lettering, they also had the audacity to put ‘DANGEROUS. WILL ATTACK IF PROVOKED. NOT FRIENDLY.’ You rolled your eyes, gloved hands shutting the file and sliding it back in your bag. You understood how important this stand-user was, and how valuable it would be if he became an ally, but also had your doubts, reasonably. This wasn’t a person—he couldn’t be bargained with. And given the fact that you were here—the foundation wasn’t planning on rolling out the red carpet for his arrival.

Your stand specialized in capturing and restraining—a small squid-like entity with long, ever-winding tentacles perched on your shoulder, nestling itself into your scarf. It wasn’t the most powerful, but you had yet to find a user that you couldn’t capture. The suctions and muscled arm-like appendages held on harder than a cowboy in a rodeo. Your stand, combined with Magician’s Red, were sure to get the job done one way or another. 

The stand’s user crossed your mind, and you looked beside you to where he strode steadily along, his ever-present red overcoat flowing behind him just high enough to avoid getting wet. He walked with a refined determination, like a pool player who had hustled long enough to see and know everything. In a way, he knew what you would do before you did it. That’s probably why he was so good at fortune-telling. 

You studied his face—two pale lines, mimicking your stand’s tentacles, curved down his face, crossing his strong cheekbones and ending at his muscled jaw. Your eyes wandered back up, staring into his eyes. Beautiful brown eyes, set on the world in front of him, pulled you in like the depths of space pulling in a lost astronaut. His hair, usually up in knots, rested down, curls and coils trailing around his shoulders and along the sides of his face. His gold-medallion necklace jingled with every step he took, matching the bracelets adorning his arms. He wore no gloves and no hat, and you sighed in jealousy. Having a fire-producing stand must’ve been nice in such cold weather. Even bundled up, you shivered at the nipping wind scratching at your sensitive face. You fell in step with him, scooching just a tad closer. You could feel the warm aura radiating around him—though couldn’t pinpoint if that was his stand, or simply your imagination. Either way, it was nice. Of course, you didn’t voice these thoughts, too afraid to speak to the man besides basic greetings and the facts of the case. It’s not that you didn’t like him—in fact, it was the opposite. You’d known about Avdol for a while, even before meeting him, and knew he had a handsome face and appealing personality, but to see him, and meet him? It’s like you were drowning in quicksand, struggling to find a grip on yourself. You were too scared to speak, afraid he’d dismiss you. You weren’t even sure what that meant. Dismiss? It’s not like he’d leave you to struggle on the streets of the city forever. Even if he didn’t like you, he still had a mission to complete.

Your heart clenched at those words. Didn’t like you. You hadn’t said more than a few words to the man—why would he dislike you? He had no reason to. Besides, you and he were paired by the foundation for more than just your stands. You had compatibility. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked next to him, teeth beginning to chatter.

Luckily, you were almost back to the hotel. You were hungry, tired, and cold. A day spent in New York City? Fun. A day spent in New York City checking every dumpster, alleyway, and backstreet in search of a dangerous and powerful dog who could attack at any moment? Not fun. In fact, you would’ve abandoned this mission by now if you hadn’t been placed with someone you would rather die than disappoint. Hah. That might be a bit dramatic. Maybe.

You brushed those rather dark thoughts aside, your only focus being the hotel doors that shined in front of you. You fell behind Avdol, whispering a thank you as he held the door open. He smiled, nodding. A blush burned your cheeks, and you whisked by him quickly. If you stared at his expression for too long you might think about kissing it. 

Deciding to take the elevator after a particularly arduous day, you pressed the white ‘up’ button, watching it light up gold. You glanced at Avdol, seeing that same gold color reflected in the chandelier of the hotel lobby sparkling in his eyes. You smiled softly, hiding it in the folds of your scarf. 

The silver doors opened, and you stepped into the spacious elevator, seeing yourself in the many mirrors lining the wood-accented walls. You always found it strange how they put mirrors in elevators, but didn’t mind in this instance. 

You opened your mouth in an attempt to break the silence, but decided against it. What would you say that didn’t sound desperate? Nice weather we’re having? You scoffed, shaking your head as you stared at the climbing floor numbers.

“Is something wrong?” he spoke, deep voice startling you. You face him, seeing a look of concern cross his face.

“Oh, no, I’m okay,” you replied quickly, voice cracking from disuse. You stifled another self-deprecating scoff at your own stupid reply. Should you keep talking? “I just—”

The doors parted open, revealing the fancy gold carpet and speckled walls of your floor. Deciding against finishing your statement, you walked out, throwing your gloves in your bag and digging out the room key. You hoped you’d scrounge it out in time to walk in without facing Avdol again, but didn’t succeed. You supposed it didn’t matter too much—you had a shared room, regardless. Not that it wasn’t a large room, with two queen beds and an entire jacuzzi in the bathroom. The full-sized fridge was fully stocked with all the alcohol you could ever dream of, too. The foundation really spared no expense. Well, except getting separate rooms, that is. 

“Let me,” he said, pulling the key from his pocket and sliding it into the lock. It lit up green, and he opened it, gesturing to allow you in first.

“Thank you,” you replied curtly, stepping inside as you set your bag down and took off your coat. The cold air consumed you instantly. You winced, sliding it back on. Did someone turn the heat off before you left? You let out a breath, seeing it materialize in the air. You looked to the wall, reading the thermostat. 30 degrees fahrenheit? That was below freezing! No wonder you continued to shiver. The temperature was no different than outside! You shot a glance at Avdol, who too noticed the freezing atmosphere.

As he was closer, he shut the door behind him, turning to press a finger on the heat button. Nothing happened. “Seems it’s out-of-order,” he said. “I noticed the lobby was rather cold, as well. It might be impacting the entire building.”

You huffed. Great. Not how you wanted your night to end. You walked inside further, slipping your boots off and sitting in the bed, legs swinging off. You picked up the white hotel phone, dialing the lobby. It rang. Someone picked up. “Hi, we are in room—uh-uh. Yeah, it’s freezing—okay. When are they—alright. No, I don’t think we’ll need any extra blankets—okay. Alright. Buh-bye.” 

You set the phone back on the receiver, hands rubbing your arms in a useless attempt to warm up. “The heat’s out in the entire building,” you said, letting out another sigh. You were doing that a lot today, unfortunately. “They called in a repair, but they won’t get here till tomorrow.”

He hummed. “That won’t be good for business,” he quipped as he searched through the small kitchen area. Finding what he needed, he pulled two cups from the cabinets, pouring a brown powder into both. “Care for hot cocoa?”

“Oh, sure. I haven’t had that in a while,” you mused, staring at his broad shoulders as he worked. “Not since I was a kid, I think. My mom used to make it for me after I played in the snow for hours. Used to come in nearly frostbitten. I don’t know how she did it, but even with the cheapest hot chocolate mix out there, she somehow made it taste delicious—” you paused your story, realizing you’d gone off on a bit of a ramble. “Sorry. I got a little lost talking there.”

“It’s okay,” he replied, voice gentle and deep, like an endless ocean on a peaceful day. You resisted the urge to drown in it. “Your story was nice. You never talk much, so I enjoyed listening.” 

“Well, thank you. We only met like a week ago, so I’ve tried not to scare you away with my stupid rambling,” you admitted, wrapping your scarf around yourself tighter. Maybe if you wrapped it tight enough you could escape this situation you put yourself in.

“It takes more than that to leave me frightened,” Avdol replied, stirring the drinks. You heard the metal spoon tap gently against the mugs. You smiled. You missed that sound. All those childhood snow-days. 

One thing your mother didn’t add to your hot chocolate, however, was the assortment of alcohol Avdol turned his attention to, hands gently caressing and turning each bottle to find a specific type. Finally, he grasped a dark-stained glass bottle, liquid sloshing inside. You saw his stand materialize beside him, pulling the lid off. You laughed silently. No time for bottle openers, you supposed. 

“Do you drink?” he asked, pouring the liquid inside one mug, the glass clinking against the cup.

“Sometimes,” you said. “When I feel like it, I guess. But go ahead. I’m intrigued. This is definitely not like my mother used to make.”

He laughed—a low chuckle that brought fire to your cheeks. He had a handsome laugh, as odd as it sounded. And you were the reason for it. You made him laugh. You smiled to yourself.

He turned around, handing you a mug of the steaming beverage. “Careful. It’s hot. Compliments of Magician’s Red.”

“Thank you,” you said, blowing on it gently. You could feel the heat radiated through your fingers and up your arms. It was a nice juxtaposition to the freezing room. You took a sip. “What kind of drink did you mix in?” you asked, tasting a milkiness. It contrasted surprisingly well with the rich chocolate flavor, and the bitter aftertaste added to the warmth hugging your body. 

“Irish cream,” he replied. “A friend of mine showed me. He usually drinks enough for the both of us, but he’s got better things to do than play dog-catcher.”

“Well your friend knows some things,” you said, taking another long sip. “Tell him thanks for me.”

“Hah. I don’t think Mr. Joestar needs any more ego. He might tumble over with a head that big.”

You snorted, drink invading your nose as you did so. You sniffed in an attempt to rid the burning liquid. “He sounds like a fun time.”

“He’s almost seventy, yet lives life like he’s twenty. But he’s a good man,” Avdol said, drinking his own spiked hot chocolate between sentences. You two sat like that for a while, he on his own bed and you on yours, having little conversations about nothing in particular. It felt like a breath of fresh air. Your shoulders relaxed, and while it may have been the alcohol, you quickly loosened up your anxious demeanor.

“Ya know,” you said, hands resting on your chin as you sat cross-legged on your bed. “When I first saw you, I felt like Bambi learning how to walk. I was petrified of saying anything because you’re just so—breathtaking. Everything you do is determined and graceful and I never thought I’d be sitting here drinking hot cocoa talking about my childhood with you.” 

“You flatter me, miss (Y/N). I am just a man, like anyone else. I have my limits. And my weaknesses—this dog actually seems to be one of them,” he mused, looking over his mug to shoot you a cheeky smirk. You stared back, cheeks burning. You set your cup on the nightstand. You decided you’d had enough to drink for one night. 

“I’m sure we’ll find him eventually,” you said, sliding off the bed as you finally took your coat off, leaving you in a long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants. It was still freezing, but you felt. . . warmer after the conversation. “I’m gonna get ready for bed if I don’t freeze to death first.”

He nodded, standing up and grabbing your cup. He set both in the sink, beginning to wash them. “Take your time. And don’t freeze to death.”

You laughed. “No promises.”

It didn’t take long to change into your nightgown, complete your nighttime routine, and sit yourself back on your bed in preparation to sleep that night. Avdol followed suit, donning a white t-shirt and black sweatpants. It was a large change from his normal attire, but you enjoyed seeing a more casual side of him. He didn’t look like a stand-user fortune-teller dog-catcher. It allowed you to imagine him as a friend instead of a coworker. And you enjoyed that. 

What you didn’t enjoy, however, was the temperature dropping by the minute, leaving you shivering as you tried uselessly to snuggle deeper into the blankets. Was it even legal to leave the heat broken on a night this cold? Regardless, you were miserable.

Finally, after a half-hour of tossing and turning, you got up, prepared to put your coat back on if it meant keeping warm throughout the night.

“Are you alright?” spoke Avdol from his bed, sitting up to look at you in the darkened room. He illuminated a small flame beside him, casting light onto your miserable face.

“I’m too cold to sleep,” you confessed, shivering. You resisted the urge to step closer to the warm fire lit beside him. “It’s impossible in a room this cold. What I wouldn’t give to have a fire-based stand right about now. You’re lucky,” you joked. He stared at you, silent, before finally voicing his thoughts.

“I don’t mean to be crude when I offer this, but would you like to share a bed? It’s possible you might actually get frostbitten in these temperatures,” he explained. He scooted himself over, gesturing to his former sleeping spot. “I promise I’m a gentleman,” he mused.

“Are you sure?” you asked, taking a few steps away from the coat rack and towards his bed. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“There’s plenty of room. I insist,” he replied. You nodded wordlessly, tentatively sitting on the bed and sliding your legs under the covers. The warmth compared to your bed was like night and day, and you quickly sank yourself almost completely under, letting out a sigh of relief as you turned to face your frozen wasteland. 

You sensed a hand come to rest on your shoulder, heat radiating softly from the large palm. You glanced behind you, noting the hand of Magician’s Red. Avdol looked at you, as if asking for permission to continue. You nodded. “Thank you, Avdol. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you and your stand ability. Freeze, I guess,” you joked. 

“It’s no trouble. If you need anything else, please, just let me know. I don’t mind. I’ve got enough heat for two.” You heard the ruffle of sheets, and assumed he’d rolled to face the window, his back towards yours. It was like the heat dissipated, and your body shivered impulsively. You were unsure if you imagined it or not, but it’s like a cold front settled over your body. You bit your tongue. Every fiber of your being wanted to pose a question that you might never recover from. But a small part held back. You couldn’t ask such a thing. He was a coworker. A new friend. Friends don’t ask that to friends.

“Avdol,” you spoke up. “Is there any way you could. . . I’m still sort of shivering. And I don’t want to bother you, or make you uncomfortable, but—”

Sheets ruffled again. A hand—not of a stand—came to rest over your waist. Silently, he pulled you against his chest, his chin resting just behind the top of your head. His legs entangled with yours. Lips brushed against your ear as he leaned down. “Is this okay?” he whispered, breath tickling your neck.

Any words drained from your mind. Instead, you placed your hand atop of his, still wrapped around your torso. You squeezed his much larger hand, rubbing your thumb over it softly. You didn’t have to speak—he understood.

‘Stay.’

[mattypattypinky]

🎀Vector Perkins Social Life Headcanons🎀

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

First of all. He has none. He only like two or three proper friends (one of them being megamind) the other two are probably either online friends, or people who have to be his friend because of his dad.

He doesn't have many excuses to get out of the house, so all of his excuses to get out of the house is to run errands. He'd talk to anyone he sees in a store.

"Hey, are you also buying this brand of deodorant? It's really works - aha - B-O completely gone." And he does finger guns and the person walks away really uncomfortably.

He'd be the type to start talking to little babies in baby carts at the store, and he'd ask the mother if they have a husband and how old the baby is and what they feed the baby and what gender the baby is and all sorts of questions and he accidentally makes the parent extremely uncomfortable on accident and doesn't realize.

He'd call the cashier by their name on their name badge, and he'd act like their best friends with them. I guarantee some workers would forget they're they're wearing a name tag and when he says their name they'd have genuine fear instilled in them for a good while until they realize how he found it out. He squints his eyes at them and says their name. Like. "Thank you,... Sandra." And it sounds extremely intimidating and threatening because how the fuck did this nerdy guy know the workers name the worker would be HORRIFIED especially if Vector didn't explain how he knew so they go through their whole shift wondering who he was and how he found out their name.

When he goes to doctors appointment he'd talk to random people and tell them exactly why he's visiting the doctor and then ask why they're visiting the doctor despite that being a massive invasion of privacy.

"Oh yeah, I'm here because I have a sniffle? What are you in for." like you guys are locked in the slammer. He wouldn't understand why the person wouldn't want to share the reason they're at the doctors, even if he's there for an embarrassing reason.

He'd hold massive conversations with homeless people. He'd sit on the ground next to a McDonald's doorway and start talking to them for 20-30 minutes and then he orders food for himself and doesn't give the homeless person money or food (they didn't ask for it so he doesn't know if they need it or not 😔 he didn't mean to be rude) he like sits down on a curb and talk to them and then he gets food and says goodbye to them w a full bag of food that he's not sharing 😭😭😭 He would give money and food if they asked but if they weren't asking he automatically assumes it's not something they want. He thought a conversation would lighten their day.

Young people hate him, old people in specific love him. Young people find him extremely annoying and overbearing but old people would think he's such a nice young man for stopping and talking to the elderly. His fanny pack is full of stuff he gets from old grandma's he talks to at the park. That's where he got some tictacs.

He helps old ladies feed birds at the park 😭

If he were to ever drive, or go through traffic, at a red light, he'd start rolling his window down and talking to the other car drivers from across the street. His music is blasting. He thinks hes so cool. His rap music blasting. When the red light turns green people behind him would start honking at him because he's too busy trying to talk to the car next to him to start driving away 😔

If or when he went to school or university, he'd be best friends with professors instead of students. He's the type to get a teachers phone number and knows the professors first names. He asks them about their personal life when he walks into class 😭

He'd get kicked out of movie theaters because he would not shut up about the film he is watching. He'd be the type to announce his reactions to the people sitting next to him.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?!" even though they obviously did.

He'd accidentally spoil the movie. "Oh yeah, I read the comics, did you know his dad is actually the bad guy-" and then they just stare at him with this infuriated glare.

He has no clue that he infuriates half of the people he meets. A majority of people hate him and he has no idea. He does worry about it though 😔.

He has family game nights with his dad. I do think that they have at most a decent relationship. In the scene with them interaction he didn't seem at all to be afraid of his father, even when his father yelled at him he simply flinched and then immediately went back to being himself. He doesn't have any of the calling cards of abuse and I do like to think he has a very healthy relationship with his father. He seems very secure around him, and his father talks of him kindly a majority of the time, I do think his father is extremely proud of his son.

[aliypop]

That's Alright for Such a Night

(Rewrite Chapter 3)

Word Count: 2.742

Writers Note: So far I'm enjoying rewriting this

Warning: mostly fluff / Historic Language and Values

Pairing: POC OC x Elvis

Plot: During the Louisiana Hayride two breakout stars meet in a rush only to learn they've dealt their cards in the hands of fate.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

  Memphis, Tennessee,1955

"How would you like to consider headlin' for Elvis and The Blue Moon Boys?"Hank Snow asked. Cecelia had tried her hardest not to blow her cool. Besides, he was the second Hank she wanted to meet. 

" Why do you ask?" Cecelia questioned, Elvis still standing by her side.

"Well, you're a crowd-pleaser if I ever did see one." He laughed, "Course, you'll need a bit of rebranding, a band even." He smiled at Cecelia as she looked at Elvis, who had a big smile on his face,

"So whaddya think Ms. Valmos, Mrs. Valmos," Hank looked at both women, waiting for an answer. 

"Seems you've got yourself a done deal," Cecelia said as she shook Hank's hand.

"And I'll be there too." Midge merged into the conversation, causing Cecelia to groan. Did anyone think she was capable alone on her own?

Nashville, Tennessee, August 21st,

"TIME TO GO!" Midge shouted, knocking on the front door of Valmos Manor. It was two in the morning, but Cecelia was up and ready and dressed. Rollers were still in her hair as she had on her scarf, "Good morning Elvis..." she said, a bit sleepy, as she kissed her poster.

"STOP KISSIN THAT DAMN POSTER!" Midge said for all of Tennessee to hear from the porch. Great, now Cecelia was both tired and humiliated. Walking down the hall with her suitcase in hand, she made a trip to the guest room, which was where Rosa had still been 

"Sleeping." Rosa softly shouted, turning again in the soft bed. 

"Midge is waiting outside." Cecelia groaned, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Let her wait." Rosa laughed, "It's our tour anyway."

"One, it's not "our" tour. We're headlining. Two, we have a long drive, so get up!"

"Does it matter?"

"You'll miss Scotty naked," Cecelia smirked, 

 Rosa tripped on the floor, rushing to get ready. A naked Scotty Moore was all Cece had to say. Rosa brushed her teeth, washed her face, and doused herself in perfume. Midge, however, had been honking her horn non-stop, telling the girls it was time to leave.

 Behind Midge were Scotty, Bill, and Sam, with Elvis in the passenger seat, combing his hair in the mirror. Sometimes, Midge wondered if he was vain or if he admired looking nice. 

Midge looked at her niece, who had already been sleeping against the window. She had black hair like her mother, green eyes like her father's, and very light skin to the fact she was damn near close to passing, but those weren't the reasons she was sitting in the passenger seat. It was because she could play the bass fiddle and carry a note. Daphane was the secret weapon for the tour.

"There is no trace of a naked Scotty Moore," Rosa growled at Cecelia, who was putting her suitcase in the trunk and saying to herself it was too early for this.

"Please get in the car." Cecelia wailed. 

"Okay, okay. Rosa threw her bags in the trunk, her head turned back as she heard a horn.

"Hiya, sweetheart." Scotty winked as Rosa waved back at him. Both Midge and Cecelia wondered what that girl saw in him.

"Do you mind if I help you with your bags?"

"I wouldn't mind at all." Cecelia gulped as she saw Elvis walk over. Even at two in the morning, the boy had the nerve to look so beautiful. Oh, how God cursed him to look so dashing.

 "You look pretty," Elvis said. Even without makeup, she was an angel. And under the fluorescent street lights. How did God make such a beautiful girl, and how was he so lucky to gaze at her and smell her rose-scented perfume? 

 "You do, too. I mean not pretty, but beautiful, I mean handsome!" Cecelia's stomach growled as Elvis let out a laugh. She was charming, shy a little, but it was cute. When he heard her stomach growl, Elvis had pulled out a half-eaten sandwich, 

"Would you like some? I wasn't gonna finish it, no way." Elvis had said, lying a little, but he could always eat. It was about appeasing this little lady that was more important.

"What's on it?"

"Banana's peanut butter and bacon," Elvis said, shrugging his shoulders. Cecelia was hesitant as she took a bite. Surprisingly, the texture wasn't bad, And the peanut butter leveled out the salt and sweet. Leaning over for another bite, Elvis looked at her, "You want the rest?"

"Yes, but I owe you breakfast." Cecelia smiled at him, taking the sandwich as they got in their cars,

 "Do I even want to know who gave you that sandwich?" Midge asked, shaking her head. Usually, she'd lecture her about taking things from strangers, but the last time she checked, she wasn't Denise. 

"It was Elvis Aaron Presley~" Rosa sang as Cecelia blushed, "Ooh yall are swappin' spit already." 

"Can it, RoSa!" Cecelia blushed, flustered in the face. 

The first few hours were peaceful. The girls were all asleep, and Midge was lost and alone in her thoughts. The radio was playing Only You, and the sky was still glittered with stars. Midge was in the zone. But behind Midge was the bachelor mobile, known as Elvis and the boys with their blazingly loud music. Elvis was strumming his guitar along to the beat of the song Speedo. Bill was asleep, and Scotty couldn't wait for morning so someone else could drive. After all, he could only actually see good out of one eye.

The sun was rising and hot, with a chilly undertone of fall. The girls all started to stir like little creatures, and Midge knew. They'd be hungry.

Arkansas, 1955

"Good morning, girls." Midge said, parking into a diner she had seen on an exit sign.Cecelia and Rosa took the rollers out of their hair. If she hadn't packed her makeup bag, she'd been putting that on too, but as the two were about to head out all they heard was a high-pitched scream.

 "CECELIA VALMOS IS ON MY AUNTS CAR!"

"Midge. Who's this?" Cecelia asked, blinking a bit at how loud she was.

" Daphane Fontana, my niece and the third member of Cecelia and The Garnets." Midge shrugged, 

"YOU'RE SO PRETTY IN PERSON AND I KNOW ALL YOUR SONGS AND-"

Cecelia applied lipstick while turning her scarf into a bow around her neck. 

"Welcome aboard." Cecelia smiled, opening Daphane's door.

 Rosa was already out linking arms with Scotty and peppering him kisses,

"We're going to jail," Cecelia mumbled, 

"Oh, lighten up." Rosa grinned, 

"Fine, but I'm not responsible for you if you get caught! It is 1954 you know!" Cecelia sighed, rubbing her temples, Rosa gave her the finger as Cecelia growled in anger, she sometimes cared way too much. 

 "Handful already?" Elvis asked,

"Rosa and her antics, not to mention Daphne, who's a fan of mine, and supposedly I'm responsible for making sure she knows every word and note in the songs." she groaned," Pres, I wanna go to sleep and eat until I combust," she pouted as she was lying in his lap. The breath in his body left him. He didn't know where to put his hands except for her cheek. Was that normal for a guy to touch a lady he was getting to know?

"Uh, Cece."

"Hmm." Her tired eyes looked up at him. 

"It's kinda hot out here."

"Oh, right."

 Elvis helped her up as they began walking into the restaurant. They had gotten stared down, but Elvis didn't Care. Of course, Arkansas was nothing like Louisiana or Beale Street, but it still shouldn't have mattered who he was walking in with. Besides money was green and everyone had it,

"We'll catch up with you after breakfast." Cecelia smiled. Daphane, Rosa, and Midge all walked toward the colored side of the restaurant,

"You sure," Elvis asked as Cecelia nodded. They sat down at the table in the back. Cecelia could hear the millions of girls screaming. A soft chuckle left her throat as she saw the look of the younger black patrons whispering to each other.

     "That's Cecelia Valmos..."

                   "Cecelia Valmos...."

                                           "Wait, and Rosa Calhoun..."

"Would you like an autograph or photo... They'll last longer." Cecelia asked as a herd of teenagers gathered around them, 

"This is Daphne, by the way. She's a part of our new group, Cecelia and The Garnets," Rosa introduced her as she was signing menus, napkins, and even hands. 

Looking over her shoulder, Cecelia had caught a glimpse of Elvis. Girls nearly threw themselves at him, and guys tripped to get to him. Midge saw the look in her eye as she knew what would happen. A riot, 

"You're going to cause trouble, kid." Midge laughed, watching Cecelia fluff out her curls some more.

"Eh, sue me." she shrugged,

"CECELIA VALMOS!!!!!" 

Who knew that many white teenagers knew of her existence? Elvis took a deep breath as he stood next to Midge. Exhausted at his newfound fame. 

"This is your fault, Presley."

"I didn't do nothin..." He gave her, his charming smile as she laughed, 

"I'm too old for you and married Casanova." Midge joked as he laughed with her,

"Do your parents know? I sing to you in your rooms every Saturday night." Cecelia laughed, flirting with the guys as Elvis's cheeks got red, 

"She could sing to me every night." 

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that..." Midge laughed yet again. 

"ELVIS PRESLEY !!!!!" 

And there it was, the sea of black teenagers mixing in with the white teenagers, and suddenly, it was a notion of being asked to leave, 

"Is this going to be my life now?" Daphane asked

"That's a great question kid." Midge shook her head,

"So, is that a no-go on breakfast?" Elvis questioned as Scotty groaned, 

"Do you only think about food?"

"Sometimes I think about girls too." Elvis laughed. 

"There's a McDonald’s, and when we get there, all you are staying in the car!" Midge grumbled. 

As their journey continued, it was nightfall again, and they had a small one-night concert in the city. Daphane was going through music. and what outfit to wear. Rosa was somewhere necking Scotty in the dressing room, and then there was Cecelia, sitting outside looking at the stars. 

"Nervous?" Elvis asked, sitting next to her, the wind blowing the scent of his cologne her way, 

"A little." she sighed,

"Wanna tell me what's on your mind,"

"It's nothing, kid," she looked at him, 

"Kid..." he laughed, "Cece, I'm probably older than you,"

"Oh yeah when's your birthday." she chuckled,

"January 8th, 1935," Cecelia gasped as her eyes got wide, 

"What's wrong."

"I'm January 7th, 1935!" she grins, "Which makes me older than you by a day!"

"Eh, you're just one-day-old expired milk." He playfully rolled his eyes at her. The two laughed and carried on. She was amazing from what he had seen of her so far. She was gutsy, brave, classy, yet funny, all the things that made him fall in- 

"Elvis..."

"Yeah, what's wrong..."

"What if I go out there and they hate us." 

"Well, I don't hate ya, so there's that." he winked at her as she playfully shoved her. 

"You're nervous 'cause you care about what you're doing."

"I guess you're right..." she smiled. Elvis booped her nose as she blushed,

" I know I'm right. If you didn't care about the music you do, you wouldn't be here." he smiled as his hand began tickling her ribs and she doubled over laughing. She was ticklish! 

This was going to be a field day for him. He kept going as she kept laughing harder. Cecelia would get him back. Both of their laughter filled the great outdoors. Cecelia was on top of him, taking note of some of the skin of his stomach being exposed,

"Don't you dare..."

"Ticklish there, Mr. Presley."

"Very..." shit, why would he say that!

Cecelia took her soft hands and began to tickle him as he tried to hold back his laughter. Her thighs were on both sides of him as she focused on getting him to laugh, "Cece! Stop!" he kept laughing, tears in his eyes as he then went back to her hips, causing her to nearly collapse again in laughter. Their faces were nearly inches away. She could feel his wavering breath on her lips, and he could feel hers on his ear. The moon was full and beautiful. Stars shining. But all he could focus on was the angel on top of him. Elvis was a devil in disguise. Cecelia was now on her back, looking into his hypnotically appealing eyes. 

"Hi there..."

"Hello..." she flipped him back over. She didn't know what was taking over her, but something told her she had to do this, Cecelia leaned closer, 

"I shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't what?" 

"Cecelia, where are you? Ceceli- WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO -"

Both Elvis and Cecelia got off each other as Midge shook her head.

"Tickle fight!"

"Tickle fight my ass..." Midge groaned, "You're not even dressed." 

"Earth Angel, Earth Angel..." Cecelia was in the dressing room singing as they were getting ready to head to the motel, "Will you be mine..." Rosa noticed how she was giggling,

 "What's gotten into you?" Daphne asked.

"I might have, uh almost kissed Elvis..." Cecelia said to Daphne.

"You did what!" Scotty looked at Elvis,

"I didn't kiss her," Elvis blushed hard, "Well, we almost kissed," he smirked, fixing his hair in the dressing room.

"I mean, you can kiss your friends, right?" Cecelia asked,

"I mean... I've kissed Scotty in places that I would consider very friendly." Both Daphne and Cecelia gagged, 

"I mean, I've kissed Rosa..." Scotty smirked as Elvis laughed,

"By kiss, you mean fucked her Scotty," Elvis laughed harder,

"Yes, mother, of course not mother." The concert was finished for the night, and both bands found themselves in a hotel, bought with the money Denise had stowed away. "Everything's fine. We should be in Texas by tomorrow, noon time." Cecelia sighed. She couldn't sleep, so here she was, taking a call at 4 a.m. in the hotel lobby.

 "I'll be sure to get some sleep." She then hung up the phone. Curling up in a chair, Cecelia went back to reading her comic books while also reading the horrid articles Jet had said about her. It broke her heart. 

"Can I join you?"

"Sure it's an open area." Cecelia shrugged until she saw Elvis tuning his guitar, 

"You like comics?"

"Yeah." she looked up at him,

"Well, I got a question for ya then."

"Hit me with it,"

"Okay, so do you think Captain Marvel Jr. could kick supermans ass?" Elvis asked, 

"Realistically, no, Superman would throw him further than the rock of eternity. Now, Batman, he could kick his ass!" she grinned as Elvis held onto his heart,

 "That raises the question, Wonder Woman vs. Batman?"

"Wonder Woman. She's a demi-goddess, and Batman is human, but with that said, he has an advantage because he's human. But if we're talking, Jay Garrick for the win."  

"Guess you got a point there," he laughed, "But I still think Captain Marvel Jr. Would win." She laughed hard as she looked at him, 

"If that keeps you up at night." She shrugged, 

"Say what's keeping you up at night." 

"I don't know." She looked at him, "I'm a bit worried."

"Worried?"

"You wouldn't get it..." 

"Try me," he was by her foot like a puppy,

"I guess I'm worried about how people may perceive me." she sighed. 

"Perceive you?" 

"Yeah, my mother wants me to have the girl next door image... Doris Day, but I like Peggy Lee," she smiled, "She's classy but edgy" Elvis smiled,

"I wanna be the Rita of music, or Lena Horne on camera, or gutsy and funny like Lucille Ball!" she sighed, 

"I wanna be so many things but." 

"But what, you wanna make a name for yourself, and be all those things, don'tcha." 

She nodded, 

"Well, I wanna be the next James Dean." 

"I once got a kiss from him," she giggled, "I think you can do it!"

"What kiss ya better than James Dean?"

"No, be the first you." She looked at him, "I mean, you gotta follow that dream I guess." Cecelia smiled,

"You need to take your advice to Cece. You're so confident in yourself. And also not."

"That's not true!"

Taglist: If you wanna be tagged let me know!

@darkmoviesquotespizza

@sissylittlefeather

@richardslady121

@thegettingbyp2

@presleyenterprise

@sissylittlefeather

@dkayfixates

@rjmartin11

@thetaoofzoe

MORE TO COME IN CHAPTER 4

[el-michoacano]

cicatriz

Tagging @dolly-macabre, @lokisinsurrection, @seraphtrevs, @lady-writes-flanagan, @jugem13, @sword-day, @slainmanca and @cooked-out-euro-trash 🖤

READ ON AO3

.

"Where'd you get that scar?"

There wasn't an easy answer; Nacho had many scars. He asked, "Which one?"

The Monte Carlo squealed to a stop before a red light, and Lalo turned his upper body toward Nacho. Lifting his arm to rest his elbow along the back of the seat, he reached out and touched the tip of his pinky finger to Nacho's eyebrow. "This one," he said. The light had turned green, but he either didn't notice or didn't care. It didn't matter, anyway. It was late, and the roads were empty and slick with a strange, unexpected rain. "Tell me about it."

When Lalo dropped his hand, Nacho lifted his own to its place. The scar was deep, so much so that he was left with a little bald spot in his eyebrow. He hadn't thought about it in years; It was just there. It was just a part of him, like the piece of another man's skull in his shoulder or the aching chasm in his chest. He was used to it.

A car pulled up behind them, and Nacho blinked in the sudden brightness of the headlights.

It idled behind them for a long moment, and Lalo glared at it as if the driver could see him. It honked, and he hissed, "¡Sigue adelante, cabrón!," as if the driver could hear him. Maybe they could, because even though they honked again, they pulled around the Monte Carlo and sped off into the night.

Lalo's dark, dark eyes found Nacho again, and he said, "Tell me about it, Ignacio."

Nacho didn't say, Only if you get us off the road. He didn't say, Someone's gonna hit us. He didn't say, Stop looking at me like you actually give a shit. He did say, "You know me and Domingo grew up together, right?"

Lalo said, "I do." He had been told weeks ago, and things had only gotten more complicated since then. Fring was breathing down Nacho's neck and the DEA was sniffing around and nothing at all had improved. There future was unclear. The upcoming drive down to Mexico was all there was to see, and he had no idea if he would ever be returning home.

"He's kind of a soft touch," Nacho said, though he felt bad saying it. He was sure Lalo had already realized it, though. He'd probably realized it that first day in El Michoacáno when he'd left Domingo looking like a scared fawn in the lobby while he cooked. "He was getting picked on, and chicanos gotta stick together, right?" He very much doubted the Salamanca prince knew anything about that, but Lalo nodded anyway. "It turned into this full-on brawl. I was all cut up, and Domingo ended up with a broken arm, and all of us nearly got expelled, but we won."

"That's all that matters," Lalo said with a shrug, and Nacho was certain he believed it. As long as the Salamancas were victorious, any loss was worth it, so long as that loss wasn't of Salamanca blood. It made Nacho's stomach twist. He'd nearly been such a loss. It had been Salamanca blood that had saved him. "Keep going."

Now it was Nacho's turn to shrug. "Tuco heard about it and made me an offer I couldn't refuse." He hadn't wanted Domingo, though. Domingo hadn't been brought in until much later, after a raid had left the Salamancas with far too few men to keep Hector's grip on the city.

"I've heard this part of the story!" Lalo's laugh filled the car easily, drowning out the sound of the rain. "You punched him in the nose!"

He had. It was extremely lucky that Tuco had been high out of his mind and found it hilarious, or Nacho would have been shot on the spot. Instead, he'd been pistol-whipped and left to bleed in the schoolyard.

Lalo finally took his foot off the break, seemingly satisfied, and off they went.

The pistol-whipping had only re-opened the scar, though. It hadn't been the cause of it at all.

In actuality, it had happened when Nacho was seven years old. He'd been upset about spending his Sunday morning in church in a stuffy little suit, and he'd been running up and down the aisle until his shoe caught at the edge of the runner and he'd fallen and conked his head on one of the pews. Lalo didn't need to know that.

[justtryingtoignoreallthat]

Traffic Lights

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Pizza?”

“Sure.”

“Really? Cause I know you had it with Danny last week, I’m cool with whatever–”

“Jesus, Riley, I said sure, just get in the car and we’ll go.”

“Yeah,” I say, taking a second to glance back at the front porch, lit up softly behind me, before getting into the car. “Yeah, okay.”

I watch you in the driver's seat, eyebrows furrowed, avoiding eye contact.

“So, uh, what did you do today?” I try, forcing a smile into my voice, forcing away the desperation that might cling to the edges. I try and release the tension from my shoulders, remember that I chose this. I want to be here, I’d rather be here. Of course I’d rather be here. 

“I kinda have to focus, Rye,” you say, eyes glued to the road. 

“Oh, okay.” I don’t let myself feel disappointed, I can still salvage the conversation. “Well, I could tell you about mine? I–”

“I really should be paying attention to the road. You should know better than to distract the driver.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, my voice a bit smaller now. Of course you have to focus. Driving is difficult. You’re just being safe. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say shortly, hands gripping the wheel a bit tighter. 

“Oh my god Liam, I’m so sorry!!

“It’s fine, it’s fine!!” You glance over at me, a smile still on your face as you straighten the car.

“It’s not fine, if you swerve the car again, we’ll get in an accident!!!” You just laugh at my hysteria and I have a hard time being upset with you. I swat your arm. “It’s not safe,” I scold, but now I’m laughing too.

“I just can’t keep my eyes off you,” you say and I roll my eyes but my smile escapes with yours. You rub your thumb where your hand lays on my thigh and I grin wider, relaxing into the seat. Your crinkled eyes, your laugh filling the car.

You must feel my eyes on you because you look to the side again. 

“Liam!! Focus!”

The car swerves to the right and I yelp. “I can’t be your passenger anymore, Liam!! I distract you too much!”

“Don’t say that, Rye Bread.” You look between me and the road, attention more divided than it should be. A serious look fills your eyes. “There’s no passenger I’d rather have than you.”

We stop at a red light and I let myself hope a bit. You don't look at me. 

“Do you think we should split a pizza or get individual ones?”

“Individual. You like all that crap on yours.”

Right, of course. You’re not wrong. And you responded. With a full sentence. That’s good. I take that as a sign of encouragement and I’m just about to ask another question when you say:

“Hey, could you turn on the radio or something?”

“Sure,” I say, deflating slightly. I flip to a station with a song I like, remind myself that it’s just because you can’t be distracted. It doesn’t mean anything. Everything’s still okay, everything’s still fine. Better than fine, everything’s good. 

When we pass the next light, though, it’s green and I breathe a small sigh of relief. No reason why, just that… we’ll get there faster. You wanna get there fast too, but you wanna make sure we’re safe. I’m sure that this time if the light weren’t green, you would’ve talked to me. But it was green, so you had to keep going, keep driving, keep focusing. You have to be safe.

“Oh thank god, a yellow light,” you turn to me the second the car pulls to a stop to pull me into a kiss. 

“You probably could’ve made that, it was barely even yellow,” I tell you, but I’m not complaining.

“Oh shush,” you say. “We had to stop, we had no choice.”

“You’re such a loser,” I respond, but I was hoping it’d be red or yellow anyway. I kiss my smile into yours and you tuck my hair behind my ear. I brush some stray hair off your shirt. We both jump as a car honks behind us and I burst out giggling.

“You’ve got some hair on your shirt,” I notice, reaching over to brush it off. You flinch away from my touch. I wince, pulling my hand back. 

“Sorry,” you force out, not meeting my eyes. Still driving safe, driving steady. Eyes focused, never on me. “Just… can’t be distracted.”

“Okay,” I agree, trying to let myself believe that. Trying so damn hard. 

“Can we split a pizza?” you ask eagerly.

“Why? You don’t like half the stuff I put on mine.”

“I don’t know, I can pick it off or something. I don’t care that much. I like sharing things with you. I like knowing something is half mine and half yours.”

I imagine how we could fix this. How it could get better, how it’s going to get better. How the next time the light's red or yellow, we’ll be forced to stop. How you’ll be forced to say something to me, you’re gonna have to at some point. Not have to, you want to. You’re just ignoring me to be safe, you’re just being practical. But maybe the next time we stop, you’ll turn to me like you used to. You’ll tell me you love me again. Or maybe you’d just look at me. You’ll look at me. You’d look at me if we stopped. Could you look at me? 

I jog from my house, leaving behind its piercing lights and hop into the car. You keep looking at me as you give me a peck on the cheek, as you turn the car key.  You must be so in love with me. 

I watch you blow past a yellow, both hands tight on the wheel. Did you fall out of love with me?

“Turn the music down, I can’t hear your voice.”

“You can’t like it that much.”

“Rye bread, I couldn’t live without the sound of your voice.”

My face hurts and I think about how happy you make me.

“Riley, could you turn the music up?”

I wonder when I stopped making you happy. 

We inch closer to the restaurant, words vanish between us. I wonder if it’s the last time. Is this the last time? It can’t be the last time. I wonder how much longer I can keep waiting in the passenger's side. Maybe I’ll never stop waiting. 

“Promise me you’ll never leave my side.”

“I can’t promise that, Liam!! Maybe I’ll find someone better, you never know…”

“I know I won’t.”

You’re ignoring me cause you’re focused, you’re ignoring me cause you’re being safe. You can’t be distracted. You’re being safe. It’s safer, it’s better, driving steady, driving straight, I grab onto the armrest anyways. I hold on tight. There has to be a reason to hold on. Is there a reason anymore?

“Buckle up,” you say, a sparkle in your eyes, always shining when you look at me. We’re safe even though we’re not. Holding hands between seats, too busy with each other to worry about anything else. 

Your eyes stay ahead. Your hands stay on the wheel. You’re being safe, you’re just being safe, getting us there safely, getting us there responsibly, you can’t look at anything but the road.

You can’t look at anything but me. We can’t stop pulling over to smuggle kisses, smuggle giggles and laughs and shared secret smiles. We never even make it to pizza. 

You drive past the pizza place. I keep holding on. 

“Buckle up,” the words spark butterflies.

You don’t look at me. You just keep driving, keep ignoring, keep focusing, I keep holding, keep hoping, eyes tight, keep going.

“Buckle up,” used to make me happy. What happened to happy?

Don’t stop. You can’t stop. Please don’t stop.

“Buckle up,” you said, I released my breath.

“Are we breaking up?” I ask, and I stop breathing.

You glance at me and the car swerves right.