#drew these in my car before work so they’re really not great

[javierduffy]

nawt super excited abt where my art style is going

[ratkingnezu]

Jomies 2am Jack-In-The-Box Run

An idea @rosypenguins and I came up with, and something I chose to ponder over the course of a week(-ish). This fic takes place after the other drake fic I wrote, so they’re all cool w each other :3 (plus i’d wager Drew and Jake have gotten closer because of the prior fic…)

~*~*~*~

“Gooooooooddddddd, there’s nothing to do around hereeeeeeeee…..” Henry said, throwing up one of Drew’s pillows.

“Why can’t we just game some more?” Liam asked, looking over towards Drew.

“Oh hell no, my eyes hurt enough already. Besides, i’m way too tired to do anything else right now.” The purple haired boy said with a sigh.

A silence grew, the boys wondering what activities they should partake in at these hours, when their token blonde piped up.

“I mean… I am kinda hungry, i don’t know about you guys.” He said with a slight chuckle.

“Yknow… come to think about it, the last thing I ate was some pretzels before I came over.” Liam added.

“Oh yeahhhhhhhh, I mean I really only had that juice earlier so I could go for some grub right about now-!“ The green boy said, laughing as he fell from the bed, failing to catch the overthrown pillow, Liam joining his laughter while Jake and Drew just chuckled.

“Yo, floorhead.” Drew said after the commotion died down, “What places are even open at this hour?” He glanced over at Jake, “Any ideas, Jakey?”

“Hmmm… oh! I know Jack in the Box is open right now, they do all sorts of stuff.”

“Yeahhh!! Let’s do that!!” Henry said, grasping Drew’s mattress as he climbed back up onto it.

Liam shrugged, “I don’t mind anything really, so that works.”

Drew kept silent as he nodded along with Liam, standing up. “Alright, i’d assume we’re going there?” The gang piped up with yeses coming from them all, as Drew overlooked them. “So, who’s driving us?”

Blondie raised his hand, “I feel the most awake right now, so I can drive us.” He stretched upwards, yawning and grunting as they got up and walked to his borrowed car.

Car doors were shut, and the boys went on their way to the dingy Jack’s a couple miles from their town. They used to frequent this location after school whenever there was a special event, but ever since they got older, their tastes were also growing more refined. But tonight was a different story, and backed by the glittery night skies, their music and glee filling the air, they drove down the streets of their deathly-quiet neighborhood. Their short drive was accompanied by the singing voices of Liam and Henry, Jake occasionally joining in followed by Drew secretly recording him.

The clique pulled into the drive thru, Jake ordering their items followed up by the quarrel of who would be paying for their feast tonight. Jake ended up paying for them, Liam and Henry promising him money when they went back to school. They pulled into the parking lot, making sure they got everything.

“One burger meal with curly fries and sprite, an order of chicken tenders with halfsie fries, and a breakfast sandwich with a hasbrown and coffee… we got everything!” Jake said with a smile as he began to drive back to Drew’s place, the food resting on the floor in front of their host. Liam and Henry complained about their hunger, closely tailed by Jake scolding the two about “what happened last time”. Their drive home was about the same as the drive out, and when the car shut off their steps were retraced as they headed back inside to begin their feast.

Jake and Drew set the table while Henry and Liam helped themselves to some of Drew’s water bottles stocked in his garage freezer, everyone knows he doesn’t need them. And once the table was set, and everyone’s seat was made, they all sat down. Well.. not before Henry stood up.

“My fellow people… friends… even, comrades i’d say! It is my great honor to join you all in the partake of this feast, and I shall say a few words, I-“

“Shut up and eat dumbass! You can yap all you want on a full belly.” Liam said, lightly punching Henry’s arm.

“Fine, but i should summarize… you guys are awesome and I love being your friends!”

Henry sat down laughing, Liam cheering while Jake and Drew smiled and golf clapped.

As the boys ate, there was no lack of entertainment. Henry and Liam of course devoured their split meal, giving puppy eyes to Drew for half of his hashbrown and to Jake for the rest of his Sprite and some curly fries. Jake took a swig, before handing it to Drew who did the same. He then gave it to Henry and Liam, who fought over turns and fries like a pair of brothers. Jake laughed as Drew looked to him, smiling. As always, he was enamored by this boy. And through conversation, they had finished their feast.

“Whew man I am STUFFED! Thanks Jake!” Henry said loudly, looking over at Liam who said his thanks as well. Drew’s smile persisted as he too thanked the blonde, who had played it off as “his treat for such good friends”. Henry and Liam rushed back to the room while Drew and Jake cleaned the table, the boys talking about the stupidity of the other two.

“Those two sure know how to get their way, don’t ya think?” Jake asked, cleaning off their plates.

“Yep.. they’re like a couple of children.” Drew scoffed with a cracked smile on his face, “It’s like they’re always on the same wavelength.”

“I mean, considering how long they’ve known eachother, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d know the other like the back of their hand!” Jake chuckled, drying dishes with Drew.

As they finished, Drew looked into Jake’s eyes as they exchanged nervous giggles. “Yknow, Jake…” the magenta haired boy said softly with a smile on his face, “I wouldn’t mind getting to know you like that…” he chuckled, pulling Jake in and softly kissing him, and with the same grace he placed his hand on Jake’s cheek as he pulled out of it. “Thanks for dinner, dork.” He then turned and walked out of the kitchen, poorly hiding himself losing his shit at the stunt he just pulled.

Jake really couldn’t help but to want the same thing, his giddiness showing for a minute before he followed behind Drew to their group-shared room.

[michelleelizabethtanner]

what do you think attracts rio to beth and vice versa in a non physical sense?

for beth, i think she likes that he sees her as a whole person, believes that she can "be something", respects her and who she is more than dean ever did, and maybe is attracted to the aspect of his lifestyle where he can provide for himself and doesnt have to rely on others and craves that for herself

for rio, i think he likes that she challenges him / stands up to him and doesnt just go along with everything he says, takes risks and doesnt back down which causes her to do some truly insane things and that amuses him

what do you think?

Hi Anon! Sorry, I got a little behind on asks. But I appreciate them!!! It’s always so nice to get Brio on the brain.

I have such a hard time verbalizing exactly what my opinion is on why Rio likes Beth. I have discussion of the topic in this post which speaks a little to what I think drew Rio in. It is the things you said, but I also don’t think Beth is such a novelty in being a “smart capable boss bitch.” In fact, she isn’t even that great at it. She has an aptitude, but she hasn’t had the life experience to give her what she needs to understand crime and truly make it her own without Rio’s constant support. Which is fine. It’s normal. Anyone would have a shaky start at a job they’re new to and have to figure out as they go. I’m sure Rio had his share of mistakes too. (Just look at his canonic mistakes.) And I love Beth’s natural talent for manipulation and leadership. She’s scrappy and spunky and beautiful. And I think that was the initial draw for Rio.

I mean, look. Let’s be honest here. Rio would never have met an intelligent, street-smart woman in all his years running a criminal empire? Why not? Why would Beth be his first female employee? He’s seen female criminals before. Probably even had sexual relationships with some. Who was Dylan? She took a pill car and obviously had a romantic connection to Rio. She was a drug dealer, just like Beth. A beautiful woman who presumably had street smarts and wasn’t nearly as much trouble as Beth was. So there had to be something more to it than Beth challenging him and taking risks.

This is the part I can never explain well. Because what I think is at the root of it for Rio is mommy issues. Idk how else to really say it or why that got projected onto Beth specifically. But Rio’s own trauma and emotional immaturity is what makes Beth such a draw for him. So like, at first it was that little sparkle of genuine attraction. A beautiful woman behaving kinda outside her character, achieving some things he didn’t expect her to be able to achieve. I think it made his penis twitch. And you know how men get. Their penis twitches and they follow. 😂 He got a little more interested, a little more amused with their game. I think your good ol’ sexual attraction was behind a lot of that. Like sure, he was impressed that she was able to perform. But that’s because he was expecting her to crash and burn entirely, not because she outperformed the other women he’s worked with. But the biggest draw was that she was beautiful. Pretty privilege made a difference for her ability to really hook him.

The thing though is that with every step he took, every mercy he granted her, he slowly sunk into the pull of his own trauma. We know Rio has it. It was poorly explored but any child raised by a grandparent has some parental trauma. Something had to have happened there. And how easily and quickly he relinquished his claim to “being a good person” and resigned himself to being “criminal Rio,” speaks to the insecurities that have lived in him probably for a lifetime. So without even noticing it, his curiosity and attraction to Beth became an obsession. Because she represents this cloying mom-ness. This mask that hides the monster she is. And it’s this combo that became an obsession for Rio. Throughout canon he’s hell bent on ripping that mask off her. It bothers him. You can see it. And yet she refuses to admit what’s plain as day. Gaslights him all the way. Almost to the grave. But she also gives him bits of vulnerability. Which he takes as victories. As proof! Every soft moment, every sexual encounter, it makes him think he’s almost got her. It’s like a drug and he can’t quit. Because if he proves that she exists in both her forms, that will mean that he exists too. The person he never believed he could be. The pieces of life he intentionally held back from. If she exists then maybe he can have them too and maybe he can be happy.

Idk if any of those four paragraphs made any sense. Like I said, I can never seem to really capture what I see in him for her. It’s deeply unhealthy and he needs therapy.

As for Beth… do we have time for another four paragraphs? Lmao! So yes, everything you said. Very much. She envies his power, she envies his freedom. Because she’s a person who’s never had control over her own life. It’s why she’s so often so selfish and so unable to see how she hurts people who care about her. Because she hates herself and doesn’t believe anyone truly cares about her. They care about what she can do for them, but not about who she is. She lost herself and doesn’t understand what love is or how to achieve it.

Rio allows her to close her eyes and just feel. She believes him to be ever-capable. Impervious. Superhuman. She says it all the time and never truly believes any of her schemes will have an impact on him. I mean, the man came back from the dead to haunt her. But with the fear she has of his power over her, she also finds comfort in it. Remember, Beth is a child of abuse. Of neglect. And for the first time, she has someone she can rely on. Even if she can rely on him to kill her if she crosses him, Rio is still a reliable figure with power in her life. Someone who sees her for her. Who scares her because of it but also someone she can’t give up. To Beth, Rio is a parental figure. This is how children of abuse view power and how they see their parents. Because no matter how much she pushes him, he will never leave her. Even if she kills him, he will come back. He offers her confidence and safety because he’s a titan in her mind. It’s why she can never seem to reconcile his humanity. Think of children of abuse and how they keep returning to their parents and seeing nothing but safety there. Beth’s brain feels safe in chaos because it’s all she knows. Rio is her captor who will never release her. And she feels safety in that and freedom to be her best self.

Again, no idea if I explained that well at all. Basically, both characters are obsessed with each other and the toxicity they bring to each other’s lives because of childhood trauma and lasting feelings of inadequacy. I need better language to verbalize all this more concisely.

[borahae-777]

The Truth Untold -- Chapter 18: You Are The One Who Made Me

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook, Yoongi x Jimin

Word Count: Fic in progress, 190k so far. 3k-5k per chapter

Chapter Summary:

He crawls into bed next to Taehyung and wraps his arms around his sleeping form. He tugs him in under his chin and kisses the top of his head as he feels himself start to drift off too. He inhales the scent wafting from his hair and something clicks inside him. This is all he’s ever going to need. More than the band, more than the music, more than his friends. It hits him how long he’s been in love with this man but in complete denial of it. Years of history bolster them and he doesn’t know how he could have been so blind. He may be asleep, but Jungkook can’t wait any longer to say it out loud.

I love you.

Warnings: Eventual Smut, BDSM, 18+, MxM

Taehyung is in the studio with Yoongi a few weeks later going over their song to make sure it’s album-ready. He appreciates his hyung’s perfectionism, this song is everything to him. It’s a love letter to Jungkook when he thought he’d never get to have him again. Now they’re finally free and this song is the magnet that drew them back to each other.

“Hyung, I think it’s absolutely amazing. There’s nothing else we need to tweak. It’s done.”

“I agree with you there. It’s great. We need a title though.”

“I have one. What do you think about The Truth Untold?”

“Taehyung, that’s perfect. It encapsulates the feel of the song. Well done.”

“Thanks, hyung. I’m excited to share this with the fans. It feels like my way of telling them who I am. Speaking of which, when are you and Jimin going to tell everyone that you’re together? You’re still hiding and it’s completely unnecessary.”

“I know. I was ready to tell people right away and at first Jimin agreed, but then something happened and I don’t know what it is. I’m tired of sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the middle of the night. He’s been off, has he said anything to you?”

“No, not really. I know he’s not okay, but all he’d tell me is that it had nothing to do with any of us and that he’ll get over it. It’s not like him to act this way.”

“Try and coax something out of him. I don’t mind not knowing what it is. I just want him to be able to talk to someone.”

“I think I will, hyung. Maybe I’ll go find him right now. Are we done here?”

“Absolutely, go find Jimin.”

Taehyung gives Yoongi a back hug, ignoring the whining objections and jogs from the room smiling. He’s come to appreciate his friendship with his grumpiest hyung so much, their connection is a bit different than his with anyone else. It also gives him the ability to watch over Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship. He trusts them, but he will always worry about his soulmate.

He walks out of the company and gets into the car waiting for him in the parking garage. He asks the driver to stop at the store to grab some of Jimin’s favorite snacks and then take him to the dorm. He’s hoping they can have a low-key night and he can maybe get some answers as to what’s been going on. He arrives at the dorm and makes a beeline for Jimin’s room, knocking with his foot since his hands are full of food. The door opens and Jimin’s face breaks into a smile seeing Taehyung standing there.

“Taetae! You know we can’t eat like this, we’ve got three nights at Gocheok coming up next week!”

“Eh, live a little Jiminie.”

Taehyung pushes into the room and drops all the snacks on Jimin’s desk before throwing himself onto the bed and crawling under the covers. He’s immediately tackled and tickled, shrieking and squirming. They wrestle for a bit before he wins by sinking his teeth into Jimin’s shoulder and the other man gives in.

They pass the next few hours like they would any other night: movies, snuggles, jokes, games. It’s nice to just relax with your best friend sometimes. Taehyung doesn’t want to ruin the mood, and is too content at this moment. He decides that if and when Jimin is ready to talk, he’ll go to someone. There’s no need to push. He seems much more like himself tonight anyway.

********

Jimin has just walked out of the dressing room, hair coiffed and makeup perfect. He heads towards the stage for his sound check and feels his nerves jangling. Performing at Gocheok is so meaningful to them and he wants to be perfect. He’s giving himself a pep talk when he hears someone call his name and turns to see Dae-Hyun tentatively walking towards him.

“Jimin-ssi, hi. Could we talk?”

“No, absolutely not. You don’t get to try and explain yourself now.”

“Please, what I have to say is very important. I care about you so much.”

“That’s hilarious, Dae-Hyun. Could have fooled me.”

Jimin turns his back on the other man and stalks out towards the stage, determined to succeed more than ever. He refuses to let Dae-Hyun find out how much losing his friendship has impacted him the past few weeks. He’s starting to remember why they don’t make friends outside of each other. Who else can they really trust?

He heads to the stage and watches the rap line finish up their soundcheck, getting lost in the way that Yoongi raps. His smooth cadence, the rhythm that bounces through his body, even the way he holds the microphone. Jimin can’t believe he’s lucky enough to be with such an incredibly talented and sexy man. He’s going to try his best to not get distracted by him on stage. He wishes they had fanservice duties like Jungkook and Taehyung. They get to hang all over each other when they perform.

They finish up on stage and Yoongi turns and catches his eye. The gummy smile that spreads across his face is worth the pain they went through. That smile is for him and him alone. He wants nothing more than to run to him and plant a kiss on his lips, but he can’t do that here. He knows it’s time to tell the members about them, but he’s scared. He likes living in their own little private world.

“Ready Jiminie? Go do what you do best.”

“Thanks, Yoongi-hyung. You guys were great.”

Yoongi subtly runs a hand down his arm and across his palm, the most daring they have the ability to be in front of all this staff. Even that light touch makes Jimin grit his teeth and take deep breaths. He can’t get aroused here and definitely not in these pants. He loves ARMY, but he doesn’t need to show them that much of himself. He clears his throat as he walks onto the stage and sees Yoongi smirk at how flustered he is at something so small.

The rest of the night goes smoothly, they’ve accomplished something amazing here. Everyone played their parts perfectly and are feeling confident about how the next two nights will go. They’re in the dressing room removing their makeup and stage clothes, excitedly chattering about the highlights of the night, when Namjoon suddenly stands up and excuses himself to make a phone call.

Jimin shakes it off and grabs his bag and shoes. He tells everyone he’s going to head back to the dorm and meets Yoongi’s eyes as he walks out the door. He excuses himself too and follows Jimin out of the room to grab a car together. They sit in the far back, on opposite sides of the seat and staring out the window. The building comes into view and Jimin’s pulse speeds up. They exit the car and head upstairs, Yoongi following him into his room.

The door barely closes when he has a hand against his throat shoving him up against the wall of the entryway. His air cuts off and his eyes half-close as they focus on Yoongi’s face. He has that perfect look on his face, that look that says Jimin is in for a wild ride.

“So Jimin-ah, did you think you were funny running your hand along my hip when you walked by me on stage tonight? How about when you backed up into me as you bent over to pick up your water bottle? Does that amuse you? Hmm? Teasing Daddy?”

Jimin can only nod and smirk, unable to get enough air to respond with words.

“You little brat. You’re in for it now.”

Yoongi leans forward and runs a tongue across his parted lips before he releases his throat in favor of grabbing the hair at the back of his head. Jimin tries to resist, but is forced down to his knees. Yoongi unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down to his knees without ever releasing his hold on his hair.

He shoves his already-hard cock into Jimin’s mouth, pushing as far in as he can until he hears and feels the choking he was looking for. He’s looking down as if he’s a god sneering at a lowly follower. Jimin’s veins are molten lava as he savors the weight of Yoongi sliding back and forth over his tongue. He lets out little whimpers, playing into his punished sub role.

“That’s it, that’s my little toy. You like this don’t you? Daddy using you?”

Jimin groans and swirls his tongue around Yoongi’s head in response, opening his mouth as wide as possible. His own cock is aching, he’s desperate to be touched and can’t control his next move. He reaches down and starts palming himself through his pants, needing some sort of relief.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing? Absolutely not.”

Yoongi pulls his cock out of Jimin’s mouth and hauls him up with a tight hand on his jaw. He grabs the collar of his shirt and drags him across the room, throwing him down onto the floor in front of his dresser. He knows what to do without being told, excitedly digging through his drawers for their restraints while trying to keep a straight face. He pulls out the pile of soft cuffs and hands them to Yoongi.

The restraints are soft velcro cuffs, one for each limb if they want, with loose straps hanging off of each one. Yoongi had found them while searching the internet for bondage items and brought them to Jimin to see if he liked them. They’re incredibly versatile and they’ve found very fun ways to tie Jimin up with the different straps.

Yoongi orders him onto the bed and he lays down on his back like a starfish, not knowing which limbs are going to be cuffed. He closes his eyes and feels a strap tighten around each wrist, body breaking out into goosebumps. He’s told to sit up and the straps pull down until his hands are tied together tight against his lower back. He wriggles around, pretending to break free and gets the response he wanted.

“You really don’t learn, do you?”

Yoongi shoves him backwards until his back is pressed up against the headboard and holds his head still. Jimin grits his teeth, knowing what’s coming next and feeling more eager for it than ever before. The sharp strike of that big hand against his face makes him cry out and clench his legs together, trying to do anything for his leaking cock. His mouth drops open and his eyelids are heavy.

“There you go, that’s the obedient face I wanted. Now let Daddy do what he wants.”

Yoongi reaches forward to open the buttons of Jimin’s shirt and peel the jeans from his legs. He’s glad he decided to forgo underwear today and based on the look on Yoongi’s face, he’s not the only one. He watches his boyfriend’s face turn hungry as he kneels between Jimin’s open legs. He leans forward, stopping just short of Jimin’s cock and it jumps in anticipation.

“Oh, does someone still want to be touched?”

“Mmph. Please, Daddy.”

“I don’t know, Jiminie. Are you going to be a good boy from here on out? No more pushback?”

“I promise, I promise. I’ll be the best little toy you’ve ever played with.”

“God, I love when you beg.”

Yoongi closes the gap and takes Jimin into his mouth in one quick stroke. He squeezes his base with one hand as he slides back and forth, tongue slipping up and into his slit. Jimin’s body bucks forwards and he feels a lightning bolt shoot straight up his stomach. Yoongi has gotten so good at this, taking him deeper little by little. He’s convinced that someday he’ll be able to deepthroat and there’s no way that that blowjob will last long. He can feel the tingle starting in his toes that means he’s getting close and he starts to twitch. Suddenly the perfect wet heat surrounding his cock disappears and he almost screams at the loss.

“What a good boy. I think you’re ready for more, don’t you? Do you remember your safe gesture?”

Jimin snaps his fingers in response and Yoongi smirks before leaving the room entirely. Jimin is confused and excited, while also a little scared, being left alone tied up like this. He knows that he could be left here for any amount of time, whatever his boyfriend decides. The door opens again a lot sooner than he expected, Yoongi walking in holding a bag. He pulls out a bottle of lube and a ball gag, sending anticipatory shivers up Jimin’s body. No time is wasted as the rubber ball forces his mouth open, tightly tied behind his head until his only choice is to clench down on it hard with his teeth.

He looks down his body and sees Yoongi squeezing lube from the bottle onto his hand, assuming he’s going to stroke him with it. His hand passes right over Jimin’s needy cock and behind until his fingers are stroking his ass. He gasps and gets a heady rush, they’ve discussed having sex and how to be safe about it, but Yoongi has never been ready. Could this mean…?

He draws in a sharp breath and dribbles a bit of saliva out of the side of his mouth when he feels one slender finger penetrating him. He grunts around the gag in his mouth and meets Yoongi’s eyes, trying to express how badly he wants more. He watches one eyebrow cock and a smirk grow across his face and knows he understands. A second finger spears in beside the first and they curl until they brush his prostate and he bucks up off the bed again, moaning. The fingers move inside him in every possible direction, preparing him for what’s to come. When a third joins them, he’s panting and sweating.

“Look how hungry my flower is. Maybe he wants something different here?”

Jimin tries to push desperate, pleading noises past his gag. There’s nothing in the world he wants more. He groans as he feels the fingers pull out of him, Yoongi climbing up his body to untie his ball gag and pull it from his mouth. He feels spit fall in a cascade from his lips, and knows how much the other man loves to see that.

“I’m going to need you to confirm that you’re okay with this, Jimin-ah.”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. YES. Please. Please.”

“Okay sweetheart, make whatever noise you want for me.”

Yoongi undresses and grabs the bottle of lube again, coating his cock in it, and Jimin is treated to the sight of the man he loves stroking himself. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Yoongi isn’t nervous at all about his first time with a man. He knows that in reality, he’s snapped into his dom space and will radiate confidence no matter what he may actually be feeling. He positions himself to line up with Jimin’s entrance and slowly starts to push his way inside.

“God. Hyung. The way you stretch me is so fucking good.”

“Call me that again.”

“Hyung.”

“Fuck, Jimin. You’re so filthy and so so so tight.”

Yoongi’s brow furrows as he continues to push until he bottoms out, drawing a long and low moan from the back of Jimin’s throat. He stills for a second, seemingly gathering his composure. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on Jimin’s lips, almost a reassurance. He reaches back and unties Jimin’s hands, too impatient to remove the actual cuffs and Jimin immediately reaches up to cup his face and pull him in for another kiss. That makes Yoongi start to thrust back and forth and Jimin’s eyes roll back into his head.

Yoongi grabs the back of his neck and starts picking up speed, small puffs of breath coming from his mouth. Jimin whines at every thrust, reveling in the feeling of being filled to the brim. He brings his hands down to Yoongi’s ass and pulls him in tighter so that his stomach brushes up against Jimin’s cock.

“Yes, just like that, you feel amazing. More, hyung, more.”

Yoongi lets out a higher pitched groan than Jimin ever expected to hear from him and speeds up. The room fills with the sounds of panting, moaning, and skin hitting skin. Jimin thinks he can’t possibly take any more pleasure when he feels a hand wrap around his cock and start to stroke at the same rhythm as he’s being fucked. He screams at the top of his lungs.

“That’s right, darling. Scream for me. Scream.”

“Yoongi! Hyung! Daddy! Fuck!”

“Cum for me, Jimin-ah. Cum for me.”

Jimin tumbles over the edge, stars exploding behind his eyes. The orgasm never seems to end. It’s an exquisite pain traveling through every single inch of his body, he can barely catch his breath. His head feels fuzzy and he slightly registers the feel of Yoongi emptying deep inside him. His grasp on the world is faded, muffled. He floats in clouds of bliss and pleasure. He could stay here forever.

“Come here, sweetie. Let me clean you up.”

He feels something warm and wet swipe against his aching hole, run along the insides of his thighs and up over his stomach. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he’s being cleaned up, but his limbs feel like concrete and he can’t seem to form words. The warmth disappears and he shivers as the cold air hits the now wet parts of his body. He feels the bed dip next to him and arms wrap around his body.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Mm.”

“I need you to tell me your name, honey.”

“Mmph. Dunno.”

“Yes you do, come on my perfect boy, what’s your name?”

He feels soft kisses traveling over his face and a hand stroking up and down his arm. He starts to feel like the world is coming back into focus. He opens his eyes and turns his head to the side and sees the face of the man he loves. He hums under his breath. He smiles and leans forward to kiss those perfect lips.

“My name is Jimin. Your name is Yoongi.”

“There you go, welcome back.”

“That was kind of insane. How are you feeling?”

“Me? This is your aftercare, Jiminie!”

“I know, but this was essentially you losing your virginity all over again. Are you okay? Do you have any questions?”

“I’m okay. It’s you. I knew everything would be amazing. I was right. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.”

Jimin’s heart swells and it takes all of his willpower to not tell Yoongi that he loves him right then and there. He knows it’s not the right time, knows they need to talk to the members first. He knows it’s too early, that Yoongi is nowhere near there yet. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t yearn to tell him every time they look into each other's eyes.

He sighs and curls up on his side, burrowing his face into Yoongi’s bare chest. The soft strokes along his back are making him drift off already. He doesn’t know what he was ever scared of. He’s taken care of, safe here. He decides to say it in his head if he can’t say it out loud.

I love you, Yoongi.

********

Jungkook walks out onstage on their last night at Gocheok for his solo song, trying to bask in the beauty of this experience. Now that it’s coming to an end he feels that familiar tug at his gut. Every winter when they go on break to fine-tune the new album and stop performing for awhile, Jungkook feels like a part of him was left behind in all the venues they played that year. It’s not that he doesn’t love creating, but the stage is where he thrives.

He hits every note perfectly and can’t help but break into a bright smile as the crowd cheers. The rest of the group joins him onstage for the next song and Taehyung runs a hand along the back of his neck as he passes by. He’s never been more grateful to the fans for shipping them, they can get away with so much mischief on stage. He runs forwards and intertwines their fingers, laughing and waving as the roar of the crowd intensifies. This is everything.

When they say their final goodbyes later that night, Jungkook tugs Tae into a dark corner behind a curtain and kisses him slow and deep. He knows he shouldn’t, but they’ve learned that if they keep it to five seconds it’s too quick to get caught. He might take advantage of that discovery much more often than he should. “Take me home, Tae. I don’t want to go out with everyone. I just want to be with you tonight.”

“Let’s go grab our things, baby. We can relax at home. I’ll tell everyone.”

The two head to the dressing rooms to change and grab everything they need, quickly telling the group that they’re going to go home. No one questions them, they’ve all been very good about letting the maknaes have as much private time as they need. They get into one of the waiting vans at the private entrance and almost nod off on the way home. Taehyung can barely focus enough to put his key in the lock so Jungkook scoops him up into his arms and takes the keys.

He walks into the dorm, snuggling Tae’s head into the crook of his neck and kicking off his shoes. He carries him down the hall to his room and lays him down, smiling softly at the small noises that murmur from his slack lips. He goes to his dresser and grabs a set of his own sweats to change Tae into. He walks back over, pulls off his shoes and socks, and gently changes his clothes. He tugs the blankets out from under him and tucks him in, heading to the bathroom quickly to brush his teeth before hurrying back.

He crawls into bed next to Taehyung and wraps his arms around his sleeping form. He tugs him in under his chin and kisses the top of his head as he feels himself start to drift off too. He inhales the scent wafting from his hair and something clicks inside him. This is all he’s ever going to need. More than the band, more than the music, more than his friends. It hits him how long he’s been in love with this man but in complete denial of it. Years of history bolster them and he doesn’t know how he could have been so blind. He may be asleep, but Jungkook can’t wait any longer to say it out loud.

I love you.

********

Namjoon is sitting in the BigHit conference room the day after their last show at Gocheok, tapping his pen on the table. For once he’s here before the CEO and that makes him even more nervous. He’d received an email after their first night at the Sky Dome saying that the private investigator had done some digging and will have a report ready by this morning. He had rushed out of the dressing room and called Bang Si-Hyuk immediately, wanting information sooner. The man had explained that he didn’t know anything more and that by the time they met this morning he’d have all the information.

Namjoon has been on edge ever since, worried out of his mind about who might be making their lives harder. He wonders if they’ll know exactly who it is and take care of it, or if there will just be loose theories to chase. He hasn’t told the others anything, they still don’t know that the note was left for Jungkook in the first place. He doesn’t want to scare anyone until he has actual answers. He nearly jumps out of his skin when the door at his back opens and the CEO walks in. He stands quickly to bow and wait for him to say something.

“Hi Namjoon. Great job at Gocheok this week, you all really impressed me.”

“Thank you, PD-nim. I’ll tell the others.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you want to know what the investigator found. He made a list of the staff that were in Taiwan with you, both our people and the outside staff. He then dug into their backgrounds to see who might be a suspect. He doesn’t think whoever left the note was working with someone else, so that discounted the staff that doesn’t belong to us. Here’s a list of seven people who work with you all on a regular basis and would have had access to the dorms. I know all seven of these people and I would be shocked if anyone was the culprit, but this is the best lead we have for right now.”

He slides a piece of paper across the table and Namjoon grabs his pen to make notes next to each name.

Yang In-su (Director’s Assistant) So Kyubok (Stylist) Pyeong Hak-Kun(Cleaner) Ja Sang-Hee(Label Representative) Lee Dae-Hyun (Not a possibility) Gyeon Jiwoo(Makeup Artist) Park Kwan(Production Assistant)

“Thank you for hiring the investigator. I’ve taken my notes on the list, one name needs to be removed, but the others are worth looking into. Most of them are new to our staff, it could be any one of them.”

“Who needs to be removed?”

“Lee Dae-Hyun, he’s a close friend of Jimin’s and we’ve all started to become close with him as well. We haven’t seen him outside of work in a few weeks, but we intend to make more time to hang out with him now that things are quieter. He wouldn’t do this.” “Namjoon, I advise you to be cautious even when you think you know someone. You never know what’s going on inside their heads.”

“With all due respect, I don’t want to live my life that way. We’re able to choose who we can trust for ourselves and it’s been great for us all to make a friend outside our idol bubble. Don’t investigate Dae-hyun. He’s a good person.”

“Alright, I’ll strike him from the list and tell the investigator that you agree on the other six being possible suspects. I’ll contact you once we have more information.”

“Thank you for all your help, PD-nim.”

Namjoon stands and bows before walking out the door and down the hallway. Instead of heading back to the dorm he makes a beeline for Genius Lab where he knows he’ll find Yoongi. He wants to talk to him about the list of suspects and see if he should go to Jimin to have him warn Dae-Hyun that they may be investigating him. It’s time to bring someone else into the loop on what had happened in Taiwan.

********

Yoongi hears a knock on the studio door and is surprised to see Namjoon standing there. It’s early enough the morning after a show that he imagined everyone else would still be sound asleep. He hasn’t been to bed yet himself, he felt energized and inspired after their last show at Gocheok and came here to tie up some loose ends before he went home. As usual, the hours disappeared and the sun had risen before he realized how tired he was.

He lets Namjoon inside, stifling a yawn and feeling concerned at the conflicted look on the leader’s face. That never brings good news with it. He wishes he could confide in him the way he used to, he wants to tell him everything about Jimin, but they both have to be on the same page and tell everyone together.

“Hey Joonie, is everything okay? Why are you up so early?”

“I had a meeting with Bang and I’m feeling a bit worried. I was hoping I could bounce some thoughts off of you.”

Namjoon goes on to tell him a story about a note left on Jungkook’s door in Taiwan and a lump grows in his throat. The poor maknae must have been terrified, he understands why they kept this a secret from the rest of him. He’s surprised he didn’t hear it from Taehyung, they’ve been working on the song together for weeks. Unless Tae doesn’t know? No, that’s not possible. He must.

“Wow, Joon, you didn’t have to carry this on your shoulders alone all this time. I understand wanting to take it off of Jungkook’s mind, but you need to let some of us carry the burden with you sometimes. You’re wearing yourself thin. What did Bang say today?”

“He gave me a list of suspects that the private investigator is looking into. All staff members who are relatively new to working with us, were in Taiwan, and have at some point in the last few months been in the dorm as well.”

“They don’t think it’s possible that someone had help? There could be multiple people involved in order to cover up any sort of trail.”

“Not so far. It’s not impossible, but it’s not an angle they’re looking into right now.”

“Okay…so what is it that’s worrying you?”

“The list had seven people on it. I struck one from the list and told Bang not to investigate him, that it definitely wasn’t him. Dae-Hyun.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen hearing Jimin’s friend’s name. He can’t imagine that being possible. They would have been able to read any sort of ill intention coming from him. Though, come to think of it, he hasn’t seen Dae-Hyun around in awhile and Jimin never brings him up anymore.

“Hyung, do you think I need to talk to Jimin about Dae-Hyun? To make sure he can be trusted? To have him pass along a warning? I’m not quite sure how to deal with this.”

“I’ll take care of it, Namjoon. I’ll talk to Jungkook and make sure it’s okay to bring Jimin into the loop and then I’ll talk through it with him.”

Namjoon lets out a deep sigh and gives him a look of relief. He feels for the leader, he has had far too much stress all these years. He takes care of everyone so well, it’s time one of them takes the lead on something.

“Stay here and rest a few minutes, I’ll just wrap up this last track and we can head back to the dorm together and both get some sleep. I just need ten minutes.”

As Yoongi fiddles with the controls, his mind goes back to where it has run back to for three days now.

Jimin told me loves me as he fell asleep. He wasn’t even aware of it. He had just been deep in subspace and it was an incredibly intimate experience for us both. Should I bring it up? Should I let it go until he’s ready to say it to me consciously? Should I tell him first? God, I love that man. I’ve been such a coward, I should just tell him. No, focus on this Jungkook issue first. There’s plenty of time for all that later.

[purplelupins]

wait how do you think sweet dreams Albert handles reader having sensory overload while they’re out?

This is a great question! (And one that really is close to me because I get sensory overload a lot) this is based on my own experience, and will change from person to person but the gist is the same!

Albert wouldn’t really know what was happening at first. He might think that she was just anxious or uncomfortable, and he would try to comfort her as such, but when those things don’t work completely, he starts to feel uneasy. He would pull her into a quiet area of wherever they were, and hold her arms gently, bending down if he needs to. He would look into her eyes, and see the vacancy and would have a flash of that damn black phone in the basement. That time he decided to answer it and he was hit with a pulse of disorienting anxiety.

He wouldn’t know everything that was happening to her, or what to call it, but he knew that everything in that moment was too much for her. He had seen it in her face the first time he had taken her for a walk- a car had driven by and honked at a cyclist, and she nearly cried.

Albert would start by rubbing her arms to show her he was there and that she was safe, and as he did that he would start to speak.

“Y/n? Y/n I know you’re having a hard time right now but if you can hear me blink two times.”

After a second of letting his words pierce her walled up brain she would do as he said.

“There’s my good girl…I want you to keep listening okay? Okay. I need you to close your eyes, alright…” she again did so after a moment, “Atta girl, now I’m going to cover your ears and when you’re ready you need to start counting down fron ten for me, alright? Out loud. Then when you’re done, keep your eyes closed but I’m going to count down too. When I hit one, open your eyes for me. Okay? “

She nodded slowly, and Albert cover her eared with his bag hands and waited. After a long moment, his sweet girl began counting down. Sure enough by the time she had reached 5, her shoulders were relaxing, and by the time she finished her breathing was steadier.

Albert carefully removed his hands and counted down; he took her hands in his and drew small circles on the backs of her hands until he finished as well. “Open You’re eyes when you’re ready bunny.”

She took a long deep breath and finally opened her eyes. That dazed look in her eyes was gone, and her skin was no longer looking waxy. He grinned and held her face, “You’re alright.”

She nodded and wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, taking long breaths of his smell. Albert closed his eyes and smiled to himself. Having his sweet girl find her saftest place in him made fireworks explode behind his eyelids.

“Let’s go home, hm? I’ll take care of this later.” He murmured into her hair and rocked her back and forth to further calm her. He felt her nod against his shirt and he ever so slowly pulled her to his side so he could guide her back to the car(van or truck depending on when this happened)

He would take her home and wash her in the bath, kneeling beside her with his sleeves rolled up as he washed her hair. He would wrap her in a blanket and set her down on the couch with Sampson beside her, and cut her some banana bread before joining her, and stroking her hair, all the while basking in the fact that she put her entire well-being in his hands.

[thefanficmonster]

Things Unsaid

Sidney Prescott x Reader (Female) [Scream 2022]

Warnings: SPOILERS for the fifth Scream movie (2022), Injury, Blood, Death (mentioned), Swearing

Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: What if instead of Judy, Ghostface stabs a deputy that arrives there before her. Deputy L/N.

Requested by @daydreamsofbee Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m sorry it took me so long to write your fic - I was stalling to watch the movie because I had Dewey’s death spoiled for me 😭 - but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

“Hey Dewey! What can I do for you?“ This has become a regular thing between the long time friends.

Ever since Dewey’s retirement, Y/N has been his main source of police work news. Cases they’re working on, suspects they’re questioning, criminals that have been caught, etc. Dewey has been of great help to investigations as well, no that Y/N’s ever disclosed him as her secret helper but their dynamic works well.

“Hey there, Deputy. I need you to keep an eye on this new Nancy Drew in town. Billy Loomis’ daughter, Samantha Carpenter and her boyfriend....“

“Richie Kirsch.“ She finishes his sentence for him, “How do you know about them anyway?“

“They stopped by my place earlier. Ghostface strikes again and you don’t tell me? That’s real nice of you, Y/N.“ He mutters bitterly, earning himself an eye-roll from the woman.

“I didn’t want to freak you out! You’ve dealt with this shit enough already.“ She argues, pinching the bridge of her nose.

That’s really the truth, she didn’t want this reaching Dewey or Sidney or Gale. Of course, she couldn’t prevent the news reporter from catching wind of it but Dewey was a more difficult task. 

“You’ve been dealing with it for just as long as I have!“ That’s true too.

Y/N has been on the target list since the days of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher and who’s to say she’s been taken off it now. She can never seem to catch a break: from Stu using her as bait by kindling a close friendship with her, to Mickey who she even dated at one point to Roman who she became friends with and even slept with a couple of times. She’s never been far from the killer, always mere minutes from receiving a blade through the back if the killer wanted that. She thanks her lucky stars for making it this far with a pulse.

“As a retired Sherriff, you’re allowed to catch a break from the chaos, Dewey. On the other hand, it’s my duty to help stop this asshole.“ She counters his point with her own before battling the pit in her stomach to finally bring herself to ask the question that’s looming in the cop car with her ever since she exchanged the first line of conversation with him. “Did you tell Sidney?“

“Yes.“ The answer causes her to squeeze her eyes shut. This is the one thing she was praying wouldn’t happen and yet.... “But don’t worry, she’s not coming back here....ever. She’s safe.“

Hearing that evokes a bittersweet feeling in the Deputy. On one hand she’s happy to hear that her friend is safe and won’t be getting sucked into the chaos anytime soon or, as Dewey said, ever. But on the other....that means she’ll never see Sidney again and that seriously stings. Makes her regret all the times she could’ve come clean about her feelings but ended up being too much of a coward instead.

“ Ok, that’s great....“ She’s found herself unable to find a proper reply but, just her luck, the police radio goes off, Sherriff Hicks asking for backup to her house immediately. “Gotta go, Dewey!” She says quickly, hanging up the call and stepping on the gas.

Checking the GPS, she sees that she’s only mere five minutes away from the location but with the way she’s speeding, she’ll make it there in three, probably the first to make it there entirely. Regardless, with the panic in Judy’s voice, Y/N can’t step on that gas enough. She can only guess Wes is the one in danger and for that this car cannot go fast enough. Y/N’s hand tightly grip the steering wheel, making intents in the leather.

If that fucker lays a finger on Wes....

The car comes to a halting stop by the curb in front of the Hicks home. Gun drawn, Deputy L/N jumps out of the car, carefully but quickly approaching the house.

Unfortunately, not carefully enough.

A blade has breached her skin and flesh right below the hem of her bulletproof vest before she’s even been able to register the masked figure standing in front of her.

“Y/N L/N.“ The grumbled voice says with an infuriating snark to the tone, “Must say, I’m a big fan.“

With that the knife is retracted from Y/N’s abdomen just for it to be stabbed into her three more times.

Y/N’s vision goes black, all her muscles screaming in unison at the pain as her body falls limp into the pool of blood forming beneath her on the pavement.

*  *  *  *  *

"Sidney." The name falls from Gale's lips in a mix of surprise and content, both caused by the sight of the woman standing in front of her in the hospital lobby.

She gets up from her seat, giving the newcomer a hug.

"I came as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry." Sidney replies, the hurt evident in her voice as she wraps her arms around Gale who can no longer hold back her sobs.

One would say she should have gotten used to seeing people drop like flies but that could not be more false. Sidney knows that best.

"You shouldn't be here." The older woman says as the two pull away, looking into each other's eyes, seeing their hurt looking right back at them.

"You shouldn't either." Sidney replies, earning her a small sigh from Gale.

"I know, and I don't plan on sticking around. God knows I'd be on the first flight home after the...funeral, but I can't leave while Y/N's still in the state she's in." She explains, the pain in her chest unwavering.

However, the name she dropped seems to knock Sidney out of balance for a moment as she comprehends everything, "Wait, Y/N as in Y/N L/N?"

"Deputy L/N herself indeed." Gale nods, confirming Sidney's worries.

All this time she's been away from Y/N she's never stopped wondering how she's been holding up, what she has been up to. And yet, not a single one of those times was she able to pick up the phone and give her used-to-be best friend a call. Not even once and especially not after she married Mark. When her daughters were born she was the first person she wanted to call after leaving the hospital and tell her the good news. She was the first person she wanted to call after her divorce a few months ago, seek comfort. But alas she didn't.

Why? Now that she cannot answer. Or rather, she's afraid to.

"What happened to her?" The tightness in her chest increases in the two seconds it takes Gale to reply to her question.

"Ghostface got a bit too stab-friendly, was aiming to turn her insides into outsides but luckily Sherriff Hicks arrived at the scene on time. She's in one piece again but high on painkillers constantly, asleep 24/7. I don't know what to say...but she isn't doing well, that's all I know."

Sidney's heart sinks.

"C-Can I see her?" She stutters out, her words breaking up as they stumble out of her sore, dry throat.

"Room 103 in the ICU." And Sid is off, " Oh, and tell Louisa to get her ass here immediately so I can drive her to school or I'll go get her myself!" Gale shouts after her, her words not exactly reaching her through the fog in her brain which now is working solely on navigating her to Y/N's room.

The scavenger hunt ends once she finds herself in front of a door with the number 103 on it. It's safe to say she barges in so quickly she almost takes the door off its hinges. And most definitely startles the shit out of the girl sitting in the chair by the hospital bed.

Panic is evident in her eyes until a spark of recognition flashes in them. She gets up from her seat and motions for Sidney to follow her back out into the hallway.

"You're Sidney Prescott." She declares in a hushed tone the woman was expecting to be accusatory but wasn't. It was more amazed than anything.

"Y-Yes." Sid stutters as she tries reading the girl's expression but failing to do so because of how numb and emotionless her features are. She sees a lot of herself in her, a lot of the reflection she saw in the mirror after her mom died.

"Mom has told me a lot about you. All good things, don't worry." She gives a faint smile, "Oh, sorry, I'm Louisa, by the way, her daughter."

"Nice to meet you, I'm sorry it's under these circumstances though." The older woman says, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "And I'm sorry you have to go through this. You're just a kid....you don't deserve any of these."

Louisa shakes her head, "Neither did my mom. She was actually a year younger than I am now when she first had to deal with murderous freaks. You didn't deserve it either. You were both just kids....but it seems like it's all coming back around full circle."

"Hey." Sidney takes hold of the girl's other shoulder as well, "We'll break this fucking pattern, ok? Once and for all."

The teenager nods before a sob wracks her body, "I just want mom to wake up. I want her to come home, hug me and Michael and tell us that it'll all be alright."

Sid pulls her in for a hug which she gladly accepts, "Is Michael your brother?" She feels the girl nod against her shoulder, "How old is he?"

"Seven." She weakly replies.

"Does he know?" The girl shakes her head, "Good." She pulls away from the hug to look Louisa in the eyes, "He'll never have to know. You'll neve have to explain why mom won't be coming home cause she'll come home, ok? She'll wake up and she'll be back to being the bossy pushover she can sometimes be. She's a walking, talking boulder." This gets a laugh out of the crying girl, "And I see you've inherited that from her. So, wipe those tears away and go give Michael a big hug, don't let him miss Y/N. Missing a mother is the most painful feeling ever."

Louisa nods again, following Sidney's instructions as she straightens he posture and dries her cheeks, "Thank you." She whispers with a faint smile that somehow manages to grace her features.

She's got the same smile as Y/N, Sidney thinks to herself.

Just then, a voice booms through the hallway, "Louisa!"

It's Gale.

"Right.." Unlike the confused Sidney, Louisa knows exactly what's going on, "I have to get to school."

With that the two exchange goodbyes and depart, leaving Sidney to have to face the task of walking back into that hospital room again.

After a brief sigh and a sharp inhale she makes her way inside. But things are different this time.

For example, Y/N's eyes are open.

"Thought I recognized that voice...." The Deputy chuckles, "Wait, it's really you, right? I don't know what to believe anymore...these pills are killing my perception."

Sidney's emotional disbalance counters Y/N's casual and calm tone. She squats down by the bed, taking the patient's hand in hers, "Oh God, Y/N, it's me. From head to toe, the Angel of Death herself."

The other woman giggles, "Don't call yourself that. And what brings you here, anyway? Thought you'd never step foot here again."

That's when it hits Sidney - She doesn't know.

She contemplates telling her, really not looking forward to being the one to break the awful news to her but postponing the inevitable is also not at all gonna help the situation. It's only gonna hurt more and she's well aware of that.

So she takes the painful alternative...

"I came as soon as I heard....Dewey was killed.....I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry...." She stumbles over her words before trailing off, tears prickling her eyes so she chooses to squeeze them shut.

A tear slips out of Y/N's.

"Oh, God, why did he have to involve himself?! I knew it was a bad idea! Why wasn't I there to protect him?! What kind of fucking friend am I?! Why him?! Why am I alive and he's not?!" The woman sobs, for the first time since she woke up wishing that she really was dead.

"Shh, shh..." With tears of her own staining her shirt, Sidney hugs the guilt-ridden, dread-filled woman, "He'd hate for you to be keeping him company right now. He'd much rather have you here to avenge him. Please, Y/N, for me, for Gale and for Dewey but most importantly for your kids, please, don't crumble. Don't lose yourself, cause the you I know will pick herself up and kick ass like nothing ever happened."

But many things have happened and all of them have slowly been piling up. Starting that night at Stu's house up until this very point. She's cheated death too many times, almost always at the hands of the people she trusted so much. Stu betrayed her, she didn't care. The man she was starting to fall in love with ended up being a serial killer, an utter psychopath. It broke her, but no one noticed. Getting betrayed by Roman felt like a hit a spot where pain receptors no longer work. Like a punch to a brick wall. She had grown numb. Numb to pain and sadness only.

The last two times she's felt great pain like this is when she lost Sidney and the other when she lost her fiancée to a drunk driver a year ago.

It's safe to say this woman hasn't cried nearly as enough as she's wanted and needed to throughout the years.

"I will. I promise I will." She sniffles, "But for now I just want to let it all out."

"I'll be here while you do so." Sidney squeezes her hand tighter, a seal to the promise that she won't be leaving her side anytime soon.

* * * * *

"Mama loves you, Mikey. See you soon, baby. Bye." Sidney catches the last part of Y/N's phone call from outside her room door.

It's nice to see her being able to stay conscious for longer periods of time. She's still in the ICU though, so nothing is to be said for certain about the future. Sidney and Y/N both are just happy for the current moments they have.

"You're a wonderful mother, Y/N. I always knew you would be." She tells the Deputy as she waltzes her way in.

She chuckles in response, "Remember that I swore up and down I'd never have kids? Look at me now. Thought I'd stay a party girl forever."

"I think you got it all out of your system in high school and college." Sidney laughs as she settles in the chair by Y/N's bed. "Remember our first high school party?"

The other woman gasps, "How could I not?! I was ready to murder those two girls, they were being so annoying. That was my first official fight."

"And you would've gotten your ass kicked if I didn't get us out of there." Sid comments, making Y/N laugh.

"Fair enough....I felt so bad for cutting our night short. But at least we got to rewatch Breakfast at Tiffany's again at your place."

The brunette shrugs, "I didn't mind at all. I always would've preferred a quite night in with you than going out to party."

A moment of silence falls over the two, the air thickening with memories they've both been grasping onto as to not let them be shadowed by all the bad that laced their youth.

"How's Kincaid?" Y/N is the one to put an end to the reminiscing quiet.

"You don't care." Sidney replies but through a small laugh which is surprising to say the least.

She's not wrong, though - Y/N really doesn't care. She didn't really care or like Billy, or Derek...you see the pattern here?

"Ok, how are the kids then?" She retorts with a playful eye roll.

This question she does get an answer to, "They're doing well. I just hope this co-parenting thing and the divorce won't affect them badly. Mark and I are doing out best to not let them sense a difference but I'm still worried."

"Communicate it properly to them, make sure they understand that it's not their fault. Make sure to assure and reassure them every chance you get that you love them and will never stop loving them, both you and Kincaid. I know how hard it must be to explain that to kids with a single digit age, but maybe that'll give you an advantage."

"What about you and...whoever the lucky man is?" The woman nudges her friend's leg.

Y/N sighs, "He isn't lucky at all. I just hope he runs into Dewey up in heaven so they can keep each other company."

Sidney squeezes Y/N's hand in a comforting gesture, choosing not to say anything, knowing the Y/H/C will understand her regardless.

"You know, sometimes I wonder how different things would've been if I wasn't a coward. How many lives could be saved. I mean, Bronson would probably still be alive right now if he never met me, if we didn't start dating etc. He wouldn't have even been in Woodsboro. But then again I wouldn't have Michael and Louisa in my life so it's a bittersweet reflection." Y/N finally finds it in her to sat what's been bothering you for what feels like forever now. It's not far off the mark though - it's been a decade of her holding back everything, not to mention that it started even way before that.

"You're not a coward, Y/N. You've never been. You may see yourself that way but I hope you know nobody agrees with you. Not a single soul. I owe you my life. I've indebted it to you several times." Sidney runs her thumb over her friend's bruised knuckles, a pit forming in her stomach at the thought of all the lost time between them. How things would have been different if she wasn't a coward.

"Just because I'm courageous in one department doesn't mean I am that way in all aspects of my life. I've never been able to go after what I want or who I want. I've never been able to stay true to myself or anyone really. I wish I told you all I wished would just come out of me unexpectedly. I wish I said something instead of waiting and hoping you'd read my mind." Y/N runs her hands through her hair, avoiding Sidney's gaze the whole time before her palms cover her face as a protective gesture that's become a habit when she can't run from or fix a certain awkward or uncomfortable situation.

"What are you saying, Y/N?" The brunette, while with a good guess on her hands, doesn't want to go out on a limb here.

"I'm saying that, since day one I've been constantly in love with you, Sid. Constantly. Never once did that change. I've always loved you, but I've been in love with you too this whole time. And I'm sorry you're hearing this under these circumstances and in this messed up period of your life, but I don't know if I'll ever make it out of this ICU so I better tell you, you know? Before the coward me kicks in and shuts me up." She sighs heavily, her hands still covering her eyes, "Feel free to walk out on me if you'd like, I'll fucking deserve it. Don't worry, I won't take it personally, just....don't say anything, ok?"

Sidney really sticks to that - she doesn't say anything. Not when she leans forward, not when she removes Y/N's hands off her face and most definitely not when her lips collide with hers.

There's a whirlwind of emotions within the the both of them at the moment, there always has been but it's now come to a boiling point, a culmination neither of them could've predicted - especially wouldn't have guessed it would happen in their forties. Never would've thought they'd wait so long to say it. Who's to say they ever would've said it at all. They're both a little cowardly in this very aspect, both having held onto something for so long it's become an aching part of them. Letting it go now out in the open feels practically unreal.

The kiss is brief, hesitant and too instant for Y/N to even process it properly before her eyes meet Sidney's again.

"I'm never walking out on you again, Y/N. I promise you. I'm never walking out on you again. I've made that mistake too many times in the past and I don't plan on repeating it." Sidney's hands replace the hold Y/N's had on her face, but her touch is more gentle, cupping her cheeks. It's not meant to protect her per se, it's more to pull her in, to reassure her of her safety in her arms. Promise her that she'll always be safe in her arms. "I-I've never been the best at...feelings? And that hasn't changed even now. But you've been patient with me thus far, God bless your heart, I'm asking you to wait on me just a little longer. I love you too much to lose you and I'm too in love with you to leap in a relationship without pulling my act together and risk hurting you in the process. Can you do that? Wait for me just a bit longer?"

A smile lights up Y/N's face like Sidney last remembers seeing back in the early days of college - before Mickey and Roman, before Derek and Kincaid. She remembers it all too well and is so glad to see it hasn't been snuffed out of Y/N completely throughout the years. They're both holding onto a small piece of themselves it seems they've only reserved for each other.

"I'll wait for you, Sid, I've spent my whole life waiting for a miracle and now....what's just a bit more time compared to a quarter decade? I can hold your hand throughout it all or remain at a six feet distance, whatever you want or need." Y/N nods eagerly, her forehead resting against Sidney's.

"Let's start with getting you out of the ICU first. And then you gotta promise me you won't be pulling dangerous stunts like this. Understood?"

"A Deputy's word, ma'am."

There's a lot still ahead of them they'll need to yet deal with but there's a lot of stuff they've left behind which they'll now have to uncover and dust off to be able to move forward. There's plenty they left unsaid and things they wish they did but never had the courage to. Plus there's ten years worth of catching up for them to do. These two never can seem to catch a break.

But for now, they aren't gonna busy their minds with that. Instead, they're perfectly content reconnecting that kiss from a few moments ago, but making it last longer this time.

[bluebellhairpin]

Not Jealous

Bruce Wayne X Batmom!Reader

A/N: So I worked on this instead of like, five other things that people want but hey - gal’s gotta have her vices. - Nemo

Summary: Even after years of fancy gatherings, Bruce wants nothing more than to give in to his introvert nature and run away from them. You however, have taught him that after sticking it out, they might not be so bad. 

Warnings: Flirting. Bruce get’s jealous but not really ‘cause Batman doesn’t get jealous. Reader has she/her pronouns and is referred to as uh ‘wife’ multiple times. 

Listening to: ‘Can’t Take My Eye’s Off You’ by Frankie Valli - ‘Pardon the way that I stare, there's nothin' else to compare... You're just too good to be true.’ 

Series Masterlist

Masterlist  

Gala’s were something that Bruce never really liked. 

As Bruce Wayne - the billionaire, playboy, golden child, Prince of Gotham - he couldn’t get to enough of them. 

As Batman - the brooding, ‘I work alone but not really’, Protector of Gotham - he avoided them at all costs. 

But as himself - the friend, father, husband, Bruce - his thoughts on such events could only be described as apathetic. 

Over the years he grew a very nice façade to hide how he truly felt. After the entrance of his wife, and then each child that followed, it became easier to fake, and he did have to admit they became a little more enjoyable with proper company anyway. 

Of course, the first time he saw she who would be his wife at one of these events, she was hanging off the arm of some blond, tanned, rich member of high society. From his knowledge and meetings with her on the streets she wasn’t exactly supposed to be enjoying it as much as she looked like she was. 

Turns out she was one great faker too. 

Over the course of the past seventeen-ish years, Bruce got to know the various ways you dealt with these gala’s. 

While he was tempted with the recluse lifestyle everyday, you managed to get him out of the house when it was needed. Even if it was a big house, he still needed to get out of it sometimes. 

With the outings you used to force him on, he was able to learn a thing or two from you. You weren’t born into wealth like he was, and you never had it until you married him, but you took to it like a fish to water. Well, the avoiding attention part anyway. In fact, when it came to going to gala’s with you, he was surprised at how little attention you drew when you didn’t want it. 

The first time you went as a couple, and then again as a married couple, were the worst as far as being left alone went, and he did expect it. Newspapers craved that sort of thing. 

After that, when it was just him and you, the most you were asked of was the journey between the car and the front door thanks to the press and media - once inside you could sulk away to a corner or table, get up for a dance or two, loiter at the bar and then go home without anymore than a half dozen people approaching. Those were very good nights for Bruce, mainly because on those nights he’d rather be anywhere else. 

As if he didn’t feel that way about them anyway. 

But lately your trick of not gaining attention at the gala’s wasn’t working anymore. It wasn’t that people were noticing him again, no it was because they were noticing you. 

Namely someone kept noticing you. 

“You both have never looked more alike.” 

Tim slid into a set opposite Bruce and Damian. Bruce had a crystal tumbler filled with ginger ale pressed to his lips, unmoving as his eyes locked onto where you stood across the room. Damian was in the exact same position, whether knowingly or not, and was sending a glare towards the man who was looking far too happy about talking to you. 

“We are kind of literally related, Tim.” Bruce mumbled, sipping his drink before setting it down and leaning back in his seat.

“He’s too close.” Damian whispered.

“I know.” 

“She could get uncomfortable soon.”

“I know.”

“If it bothers you so much then either of you could go over there and whisk her away.” Tim said, shaking his head a little. “Bruce could pull out his charisma, or the gremlin could pretend to ask for a dance with his mother all cute and mother-son-like.”

Damian switched his glare over to Tim.

“Why don’t you go and fix it since you’re so smart?”

“‘Cause it’s not bothering me as much as it is you.” Tim laughed. Bruce looked between his two sons, then up to where you and the man were talking. “She can handle herself. Plus he’s way below her league anyway, if she doesn’t know that then something’s wrong.” 

“You don’t think Ummi’s being mind controlled right now, do you?” Damian asked, sitting straighter and squinting a little. “We should go home and -”

Bruce stood, patting Damian’s shoulder as he pushed his chair back in, and then strode over to your side. 

As usual, you noticed his approach with barely having to look, and reached out an arm as he pressed his side to yours. His arm wound it’s way around your waist, and he offered his free hand to the man whose conversation he probably just ruined. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Wayne.” he said, lips tight in one of the best and believable fake smiles he’s put on in his entire life. 

“Henry Syrus.” The man said, stepping to match Bruce’s fake pleasantries with his own, “I was just having the most wonderful conversation with your darling wife about the art pieces here. 

“Next time you should compare novelty keychains.” Bruce’s voice was light, but you could tell there was a little something underneath. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take her away for a dance before the night dies down too much.” 

So without another word, Bruce swept you away and onto the dancefloor with the hoard of other swaying couples. 

“You need to practice that.” 

“Practice what?” he asked, looking down at you as his fingers intertwined with yours. 

“The ‘I’m taking my wife away from someone who makes me feel like they’re making her feel weird’ thing you just pulled.” you said, a small smile twitching onto your features from your lips up to your eyes - your first genuine smile of the night - and Bruce was proud to think it was because of him. 

“I did that?” he mused, feigning thought for a moment, “I don’t think I did.” 

“Well you weren’t jealous. Everyone - including you! - says Bruce Wayne does not get jealous.” Bruce spun you away, and then back closer to him again. Closer than before. 

“I don’t need to get jealous, I know you can’t resist me.” he mumbled against your ear, then pressed a kiss to your cheekbone before leaning back some again. “That’s why you keep sticking around.”

“I thought I stuck around because you’re filthy rich and never at home, so that I have the place to do as I please.” 

“Okay, okay,” he said, chuckling, “Now you’re really teasing me.” 

“I’m just getting started.” you said, a sly glint in your eye that made his arm around you tighten. 

“Oh? Dare I ask what else you have in store?” he replied, preparing to meet whatever you came up with. You hummed at him, surveying the room and fellow dancers before looking back up at him again.

“I’m gonna take you home, pull you into our bedroom, and take you out of this monkey suit -”

“- it’s a tux, not a suit -”

“- I’m going to take you out of this tuxedo,” you corrected, tugging on his tie as he smiled down at you, “And then we’re gonna sleep for twelve. Whole. Hours.” He groaned. 

“You love me so much. You know exactly what to say. You treat me so well.” 

“I know.” you said, smiling up at him. He couldn’t help but press his lips to yours in something a little longer than a peck, and you hummed again. “Now you’re making Henry jealous with all the faces you’re making.” 

“How can you tell, you can’t see him?” he asked. Looking over, he was able to see that, yes, the man you were with before wasn’t looking incredibly happy at the moment. 

“I’m a mother of at least five children, Bruce. And I have to deal with you. I can tell when someone’s glaring at my back.” 

“I do glare a lot.” He grimaced. “I should’ve known better.” 

“Underestimate me again and you’ll pay for it.”

“And if I do then you can name your price, my dear.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

Kid!MC/Teen!MC Needs someone to go to Parent Teacher Interviews for Them and Guess Who’s Available?

Masterlist

The brothers being bad babysitters/dad figures is something I love very much, I bet you all could already tell that considering the Fic/Headcanon series I have going on. I would just like you all to know that Asmo’s section is based on a true story. Anyhoo~ onto the Headcanons!

Why? Why Him? (Lucifer)

Is MC really dumb, or are they just a kid? No one knows.

Obviously MC asked Lucifer, the only competent one in the house, the most professional, hard-working, controlled-

MC got their things together and gave Lucifer the run down on their teacher(s) before Lucifer got too absorbed in extolling his own virtues in an intense internal monologue.

News flash Lucifer, this isn’t a Shakespeare play, you can’t have a dramatic monologue or soliloquy about how great you think you are

At the actual meeting, if MC is in there, no, MC is not actually in there. Lucifer will speak to the teacher as if MC isn’t there. As someone whose not a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down kind of person, Lucifer expects the teacher to behave the same and not spare MC’s feelings.

Feelings do not deserve to be spared if MC is being a nuisance. No fake-kid/little sibling of his gets to be the class idiot!

If MC’s doing very well academically, he expects to be pointed at projects or tests they’ve done and the grade on it. It really makes him proud to see MC doing well.

Even if they’re not the best academically, if they’re not failing and they’re doing well in other aspects of school, he’s proud.

If MC really struggles in a school environment and just hates it there but they’re still keeping their head above water, they get a head pat of approval.

On the drive home, if MC came with him to the parent teacher interviews and everything went well, he just happens to turn onto the street that has a Baskin Robin’s or something of that caliber.

If they didn’t go, he picks something up on the way back.

No fun treats if MC is being a disruptive little heathen in class, no kid under Lucifer’s care is going to be the class Mammon. Not on his watch.

MC was busily stuffed their face with the treats that were gifted to them. Lucifer had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at the kid’s blatant disregard for basic table manners when it came to sweets.

“Is everything the teacher said true?” Lucifer asked, MC looked up at him with a smile.

“Yep!”

“Good, good.” Lucifer held out his hand and patted them on the head. “You’re doing well. Keep it up.”

“Geez,” MC mumbled as they continued to stuff their face. “Can you get anymore affectionate?”

“Don’t be sarcastic, MC. It’s uncouth.” Lucifer said sternly. “Besides, I’ll have you know that many people enjoy my headpats. I’m quite affectionate.”

“Really now? Name one person.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He and MC stared each other down, one pair of eyes much more nervous than the other. Spoiler, MC was still calmly eating their treat as they maintained eye contact.

“…Cerberus.”

“If you’re reaching for Cerberus, you’ve already lost.”

…his pride was under attack. Right in front of his desert…

“You’re grounded.”

“Worth it.”

*Rides by on a Skateboard* School is for NERDS (Mammon)

Pff! Stupid human! He’s not goin’ to some lame parent teacher conference-

Wait! What’s with that face?! Ugh… fine. MC’s gone and forced his hand with those damn puppy dog eyes…

Mammon does not dress up for this event, he dresses like he would every day, maybe throw on some designer stuff to let all the parents and teachers know he’s hot shit.

If MC goes with him, he pulls up in his beloved car and takes up two parking spaces (pure evil.). Every parent present already hates him, but at least the other kids there are impressed with MC’s sweet ride. MC would have gained some street cred if Mammon hadn’t managed to trip up the stairs to the classroom in front of everyone.

He’ll act way to casual with the teacher, turning the parent chair backwards and sitting down so he can lean on the seat.

Mammon gets bored crazy quickly while the teacher lists and explains all the stuff the class is learning, so his eyes begin to wander to any and all displays in the classroom. Projects, annoying posters, class pet, anything is more interesting than this teacher’s explanation.

When MC finally becomes the main topic of the interview, he’s all ears. MC’s doing great in school academically? Ha! Nerd! Maybe giving MC a playful noogie and interrupting the whole interview wasn’t a good idea, but whatever.

If MC’s failing anything, or just isn’t that gifted when it comes to grades, it’s very much a “Aw man me too” from Mammon.

This teacher is speaking with the Great Mammon, the first demon in RAD’s history to fail three semesters in a row. If this teacher thinks bad grades will phase him, they’re dead wrong.

Grades don’t mean anythin’ about smarts anyway! I mean, look at him! He’s a fuckin’ genius but he can’t get through a history test without sobbing even though he LIVED THROUGH MOST OF IT.

MC gets treats no matter what’s up in class. Though, if MC didn’t go with him, he’s likely to forget and just order something for the two of them when he gets back home.

“Goddamn teachers and their rambling!” Mammon whined, grabbing a slice of pizza from the open box on his coffee table. “You owe me, MC! Ya really do!”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” MC said, they leaned over and rolled a pizza slice into a pizza-scroll then proceeded to eat it like a veggie roll. “How do you think I feel, listening to them every day? You know how long it takes to get to the actual class material?”

“Five years?”

“Ugh! Five years if I’m lucky! I swear, I know more about my teacher’s grievances with like… five of my classmates than I do about trigonometry, and guess which one’s on the test next week?”

Mammon winced in sympathy, then remembered he was supposed to be whining and went back to it. “School’s shit and a waste of money, ya should drop out as soon as you can and help me run my new business.”

“You mean your pyramid scheme?”

“It’s not a pyramid scheme, MC! It’s legit! It’s a multi-tiered marketing-”

“It’s a pyramid scheme.”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA SOCIAL INTERACTION (Leviathan)

Everyone else must have been sick or something for MC to have asked Levi. He’d flat out refuse to go otherwise.

So, Levi couldn’t exactly go to the interview in his usual “I haven’t left my room or changed clothes in eight weeks” look. With the help of MC, he was able to find his military uniform at the back of his closet.

Asmo nearly fainted when he saw Levi in the uniform, not because “oooo, a man in uniform~”, it was because the outfit was so crumpled and wrinkled that it made it physically painful to look at. No time to iron and wash, the conference was in an hour!

Levi (and MC if they went with) rolled up to the school in a less than impressive ride, but one look at the uniform and all the other people present went “yep, time to be respectful (tm)”

For the first time in his life Levi was more intimidating than Lucifer! And he wasn’t even trying!

When the teacher starts explaining the course material, Levi spaces off in horror as he realizes he remembers literally nothing from school (AND HE’S STILL IN SCHOOL!) all that’s running through his head is “A squared + B squared = C squared” and “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”.

The actual interview was the least interesting part of the trip, the real stuff happened when Levi passed by some art on display in the hallway and something caught his eye-

Those colours… that hair… that adorable smile..!

IT WAS HER! LEVI’S PRECIOUS RURI-CHAN IN ALL HER GLORY!

Levi immediately started fawning over the art class fanart and by sheer coincidence, one of the kids walking through the hallway happened to notice.

The kid asked MC if their… parent and or guardian liked anime. MC responded with “obviously.” Levi then asked the kid if they drew his adorable Ruri-chan. The kid said no, and that they drew the My Hero Academia fanart a few rows down.

Levi was absolutely floored that there were two anime fans in one class, then his entire world shattered when MC explained there was more anime art inside the art room and other classrooms.

H-hang on… did that mean that… a lot of people here… liked anime..?

Levi needed a while to process. No snacks on the way home…

Levi and MC were sat in the back of their Uber, Levi, the Avatar of Envy himself, was having his entire sense of reality warped. S-so much anime fanart… in a school of all places..! What did this mean for the future of anime?!

“Levi. Stop.” MC sighed. “If this were an anime, the camera angle would be doing that thing where it’s right on the bridge of your nose and dramatic music plays in the background.”

“S-so many kids in your class like a-anime huh..?” Levi stuttered, weakly trying to smile. “Must be nice..?”

“Oh, that’s just my class. The other classes and grades have their fans too.”

“Oh… really?”

“Levi,” MC stopped looking out the window and looked at the otaku that was having a full scale silent mental breakdown. “Anime isn’t even a niche interest anymore. It’s a pretty casual thing to watch now. At least a third of my class watches- Levi?”

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH! ANIME! A THIRD OF THE CLASS?! ANIME… HIS PRECIOUS ANIME… WAS BECOMING A NORMIE INTEREST! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

“Levi?” MC waved their hand in front of their spaced out demon’s face. “Leviiiii? Okay he’s dead.”

The Know it All (Satan)

Ah, a smart choice, MC. Satan would be glad to help further their education. He’ll do everything in his power to make sure that the human’s brain is fed all that sweet sweet knowledge.

Satan can’t dress himself normally, MC had to coax him into a suit jacket, but he still only wore one sleeve.

MC was coming along to the interviews whether they wanted to or not, it’s important to hear what they need to improve on from the teacher themselves after all.

The two arrived pretty early, so Satan asked MC for a tour of the school. It was pretty tame until they reached the library. Satan was horrified at the state of some of the books…

Their spines lined with duct tape… pages missing and torn… someone apparently used a taco as a book mark…

The first thing Satan does when it’s time for his interview is demand the teacher take better care of the library, even though they’re not the librarian. MC tries to explain this, but Satan is too distraught to listen to reason.

He enjoyed hearing about the course material, but he made it known if MC thinks the assignments are too easy that they need to be given more challenging work. THEIR BRAIN NEEDS TO BE STIMULATED DAMN IT.

It was up to MC to either agree with Satan and nod to the teacher, or make frantic eye contact with them to try and communicate “NO DON’T PLEASE”.

Similar to (ugh) Lucifer, as long as MC is doing their best, he’s happy for them.

…but if they are in any way in the running for valedictorian he is HELPING THEM WIN.

He decided to stop at a cafe or bookstore to let MC pick out a “congrats on surviving your pitiful school” present after the interviews.

MC gleefully perused the shelves of the bookstore, there were so many books too look at…

“I’ll buy you as many books as you’d like, MC, just,” Satan shuddered slightly. “Promise me you won’t treat them like those poor library books…”

MC put their hand over their heart. “I swear on the duct taped book spines that I will never treat a book like that.”

“Good… good…” Satan breathed a sigh of relief and went back to looking at his book about cats.

“Are you… reading a Warrior Cats book..?” MC asked tentatively.

“Yes, why?”

“Satan, put that back.”

“I Will Seduce the Teacher For the Sake of Your Grades, Don’t Worry.” (Asmodeus)

Oh MC dear! He’d be delighted to go! Just let him get ready~

Asmo may not be the best choice, but he was at least going to be the best dressed person at that conference. (And MC just had to come too so all the other parents could be jealous of how well coordinated their outfits are)

He teased MC a little by saying he was going to flirt with their teacher to make sure they passed the class, but he was just kidding! …but he made sure to ask if their teacher was cute, he needed to know!

While waiting for his turn, Asmo flirts with some of the single parents, if he doesn’t see a wedding ring, they’re fair game.

Once his time slot arrived, MC realized that Asmo is one of those “my child has done and will do nothing wrong ever” types. This may have ended up working in MC’s favour if they were a class nuisance.

If MC is doing very well in sports, clubs, grades, anything, Asmo is fawning over them and gushing to the teacher about how great, smart and adorable they are.

Asmo surprisingly does not exactly flirt with the teacher, he was just teasing MC after all. But um… if MC’s teacher just happens to be cute and young, he may turn up the charm, just a little. Enough to make the teacher giggle and make MC cover their face in embarrassment.

After the interviews Asmo will probably schedule a nice day out for the two of them, shopping, a movie, mani pedis, something fun!

The real weird stuff happens in the months after the interviews… if Asmo did lightly flirt with the teacher, MC gets quite a few questions about their guardian. Questions that ask if Asmo is single in not as many words…

Oh lord, MC’s teacher developed a crush on Asmo.

Nail painting night was supposed to be a fun occasion, but MC was hopping mad and embarrassed. Asmo didn’t seem to notice as he continued to paint the little human’s nails.

“And then I told Phenex to get lost. The nerve of that little monster, right MC?” When MC didn’t reply, Asmo looked up and tilted his head. “MC?”

MC’s angry face would have been much more threatening if they weren’t just so adorable, but it was getting the message across.

“MC..?”

“Asmo.” MC’s glare deepened. “My teacher wants to know if you’re single.”

Asmo blinked a few times, before he hit his tongue to keep from laughing. “Really now~. I knew they’d be madly in love with me-”

“WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIIIIIIIIIIIS?!”

Oh My Demon King is That a BAKE SALE?! (Beel)

Of course Beel said yes! He’d gladly go to MC’s parent teacher interview!

He even put on a nice outfit :D he ended up looking a bit like a secret serviceman guarding MC, the tiny president.

Beel stopped for McDonald’s on the way there, all the other kids were so jealous of MC when they stepped out of the car eating fries.

But a little something something caught Beel’s eye when he and MC walked into the school… was that a… bake sale?

MC quickly explained that the bake sale was fundraiser for their class trip that year and the snacks weren’t complimentary. He had to pay.

And pay Beel did. He cleared out the entire table. MC’s grade’s overnight trip was going to be decadent as hell. That was no longer a crowd funded thing, that trip was privately funded by a tall buff ginger secret service member and this tiny in comparison child.

Kids are incredibly blunt, just like Beel, so when a random kindergarten kid wandered over, looked up at Beel, and very knowingly said “you’re very tall”. Beel was like “yeah”. The kid then said “what’s it like being that tall?”

Beel’s response to this kid’s question was to pick them up and hold them for a few seconds before placing them back down. For just a few moments this kid knew what it like to be over 6’4. Of course, more kids swarmed in and asked to be picked up.

Sure it was cute, but Beel now has an army of kids ranging from kindergarteners to third graders.

Finally, the conference actually began. Beel snacked the entire time and dutifully listened to everything the teacher had to say.

After the interviews are over, he checks with MC to make sure everything the teacher said was true and that they weren’t lying. If all was well, the two made their exit.

They stopped at Wendy’s on the way home.

“I’m so full…” MC groaned, Beel held up a massive cookie.

“So I can eat this?”

“No. Gimme that.” MC took a very defeated bite out of it. “My stomach says no but my mouth says yes…”

“I don’t want you to get a stomachache, MC,” Beel said worriedly. “No more snacks.”

“It’s a little late for that. It’s past nine and I’m still eating, there’s no way I’m getting to sleep at a reasonable hour.”

“Oh…” Beel mumbled. “I may have not completely thought this through.”

“*Snore* Huh? Wha? MC’s Grades? Uh… Fuck…” (Belphie)

MC must be failing a class or something because why on earth would they pick Belphie otherwise.

They ask him to go while he’s delirious from just waking up from a nap, he sort of half nods and mumbles some gibberish before going back to sleep.

MC had to basically carry his ass to the school. Belphie drooled all over them in the waiting room, and when it was their time to go into the interview, Belphie had to be manually put into the chair and slapped awake.

He barely listens, he just sits and nods along with whatever the teacher is saying. The teacher could say MC brought an alligator to school and he’d just go “uh huh…” “mmmph… yep…” “really now?” then yawn.

The only thing that could possibly get Belphie to be interested is if MC is studying space. If they are, than boy howdy is Belphie suddenly interested in their education.

Other than that? *snore*

If MC is in fact failing or doing poorly, MC’s teacher asks to see another one of MC’s guardians at a later date. Their plan failed miserably.

MC drags Belphie out of the school and yells at him for not helping them. Belphie, still sleep delirious, tries to press the snooze button. MC does not have a snooze button.

“Belphie!” MC shouted, shaking the Avatar of Sloth awake. The House of Lamentation’s resident bastard was somehow sleeping standing up outside. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“Eh?” Belphie half-snorted and looked around confused. “What’d I do? Where are we?”

“At my school! You said that you’d go to my parent teacher interviews!”

“…MC I don’t think I’d pass well for you.”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AS MY GUARDIAN!”

“Sheesh,” Belphie murmured while he rubbed the remaining sleep from his eyes. “You humans are so noisy.”

MC looked up at their dearest demon friend, and gave him their best glare. “I’m going to take all your fancy temperature changing pillows and switch them with normal pillows you traitorous bastard.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[mintwithchoco]

beaux rêves: Ep 5 - Evaluation

ITZY Yeji x Male Reader

Word Count: 3063 words

Categories: smut, handjob, edging, daddy kink, spanking, office sex, little bit of degradation, assistant! yeji

aff link

“...and I guess that’s all for now, keep up the good work Chaeryeong!” You said to a red haired woman, one of the interns that is working under you.

You were the leader of the Marketing Team in IT’z Company, a brand that is well known all over the world for being pioneers in multiple fields. You knew that it was a big role to have and a monthly intern evaluation is one way for you to keep the quality of the team and the work. There were four interns in your team and all of them have been doing a fantastic job. You were definitely proud, already thinking of asking the higher ups on an incentive raise because of their hard work.

“Thank you, sir!” Chaeryeong said, giving you an adorable smile before getting up from her seat and heading towards the door of the interview room.

“Oh yeah, Chaeryeong?”

“Yes sir?”

“Please call in Lia for me.”

“Alright sir.” Chaeryeong and her warm smile left the room, leaving you and your assistant alone.

“They’re doing so well!” Your assistant said while analyzing through the files containing the evaluations of the interns.

“Yeah, I’m definitely gonna give them a raise.” You replied back while preparing the file for the last intern evaluation.

“Have you finished the powerpoint for our meeting tomorrow?” You asked.

“Yes, I’ll send the powerpoint to you after this.”

“Great! Thank you so much, Yeji.”

“O-Oh, it’s...it’s nothing really. I’m just doing my j-job as your assistant.” Yeji blushes furiously, unable to hide it from you who just smiles at her cuteness.

“Hey, don’t be so shy now! You helped me out a lot with my work, so I need to give you a reward sooner or later.” You said, making Yeji look towards you with a look of certainty in her eyes.

“A reward?”

“Yeah, it could be anything you want. As long as it’s not that expensive.” you said, laughing.

“Then…” Yeji moves her seat a bit closer and suddenly caresses your thigh, moving her lips near your ear.

“I want you, daddy.”

“Woah, Yeji! H-Hold on,” You flinched away immediately, almost choking at her words.

“T-This is h-highly inappropriate for w-work.”

“But da-”

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door, making you quietly sigh in relief.

“O-Oh! Come in.” You said.

The door then was opened by a woman in a light peach long sleeve top with a plaid vest covering it. Her brown hair draped over her shoulders beautifully, letting you focus on her attractive visual. As she entered the room and closed the door behind her, you and Yeji watched as she slowly walked over to the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

“Sit down please, Lia.” The woman reacted by sitting down on the black office chair.

“How are you today?" You asked first.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." Lia answers, giving you a smile after.

“Glad to hear that. Alright then, let’s start with the evaluation.”

As you go through the questions one by one, Yeji is beginning to grow frustrated. Biting her lips, she began playing around with her pen constantly. Her brain suddenly thought of an idea that was risky, but pleasurable at best. Her left hand slowly slides over to your crotch, making you widen your eyes. You eyed her, silently telling her to stop with your slightly angry gaze. But, Yeji replied back with a smirk and mouthed something with her lips.

“My reward, daddy.”

Her fingers move towards the zipper of your pants and open them, revealing the center part of your boxers. You were panicking, your eyes went all over the place as you listened to Lia's answers to your questions. To avoid suspicion, Yeji also asked her a few questions as she started to pull out your hardened cock from your boxers.

“Sir? What’s wrong?” Lia asked after hearing you gasp because of your exposed cock.

“Uhh, n-nothing! L-Let's continue.”

“So, did you encounter any problems with our clients recently?” Yeji’s fingers wrap themselves around your cock.

“Hmm, let me see....”

Your ears were trying their best to hear Lia’s answer as Yeji started stroking you softly under the table. A lot of precum was already being made on the tip of your cock due to the thrill of being stimulated by her hand in front of your intern without her noticing it. She collects your precum and spreads it all over your shaft to lube it up. You wanted to moan so hard, but there was still work to do.

There were a few questions left, so Yeji’s handjob won’t last for long - something you were both thankful and disappointed in. She opens up a file and pretends to be reading it as she sped up her strokes, making you grit your teeth underneath your lips. When you ask Lia a question, Yeji will slow down her strokes. But once Lia is answering your question, she picks up her pace, making it harder for you to keep your sense of professionalism.

A burning sensation suddenly came into your stomach, signifying that you were going to orgasm soon. Just as you were about to reach your peak, Yeji stopped stroking you in an instant, letting your cock throb violently as you felt your load slowly going back into your balls. You faked a cough instead of moaning as a way to relieve the intensity that you had earlier. Lia was nothing but naive the entire time, diligently filling out a form that you gave to her as the last part of the evaluation.

After a few minutes, Yeji starts her handjob once again, this time you were even more sensitive as you already feel your orgasm building up slowly once again. Lia finishes up her form and gave it to you who was struggling to keep calm. Meanwhile, Yeji was smirking to herself as she continued her hoax of reading the files while keeping a steady pace of her strokes on your shaft.

“Sir, are you okay? You look sick…” Lia said in a concerned tone.

“Yeah, are you okay?” Yeji asked as well, feigning ignorance that she was the reason for the droplets of sweat forming on your forehead.

“I’m j-just feeling...a little l-lightheaded, yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll t-take some medications l-later.” You replied as Yeji fondled your warm balls.

“Oh yeah, sir?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for taking me home last night.” Lia’s words made you confused at first, but you instantly remembered that you gave Lia a ride home yesterday because her car broke down.

“Oh, it’s nothing really. Others would’ve done the same.”

“If you’re free sometime, maybe I could...treat you to dinner?” Lia said in a somewhat flirty tone while biting her lower lip hungrily.

“Uhh, sure I gu-AHH!” You shouted in pain due to Yeji squeezing your balls as jealousy filled her brain.

“Sir?!” Lia was about to stand up before you raise up an arm as a hint that you’re fine.

“What happened?” Yeji places her hands on your shoulders after wiping off your precum on your pants to show her concern.

“M-My leg cramped...It’s a-alright now.” You said while quickly putting back your cock into your boxers and zipping back your pants.

“Anyways, we’re done now with the evaluation. You’re doing a great job, keep it up Lia!” You said after writing out a few more words on the evaluation papers.

“I will, thanks sir!” Lia’s eyes turned into a crescent and her lips formed an adorable smile.

“Don’t forget about our dinner! I’m looking forward to it. Take care now!” Lia said, flashing her signature eye smile at you before leaving the room.

You smiled and proceeded to organize a few things on the file while Yeji stared at you with her eyes filled with lust and jealousy because of Lia’s flirty behavior.

“Daddy-” Yeji was cut off by you suddenly standing up while taking back all the files on the desk.

“My office, five minutes.” You said coldly before exiting the room.

Four minutes later, Yeji was now in front of your office. She was nervous about what's gonna happen to her. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door three times.

“Come in.” Yeji opened the door and was greeted by you sitting on your chair with your back turned towards her.

“Lock the door.” She does so and stands in front of your desk with her hands in front closed together.

You let out a big sigh and stood up from your seat to face her. Your mind was only thinking one thing: punishment.

“Bend over.”

“What?”

“Bend over.” Your tone was a bit more aggressive this time, making Yeji shiver and immediately bending over the desk with her hands flat on the surface of it and her back arched.

“Giving me a handjob during important work, squeezing my balls and edging me,” You said as you walked slowly then stopped on her left side.

“Daddy’s going to punish you baby.” You whisper into her ear, widening Yeji’s eyes.

Not wasting anymore time, you yanked her skirt and drew it up to her waist, revealing her round ass and a blue thong that was covering her crotch. Squeezing her soft cheeks with both of your hands, Yeji bit her lips as she was turned on by your dominance, her pussy starting to leak out juices. You traced your fingers over her clothed pussy, feeling a wet spot already formed.

“Wet already? What a naughty slut you are.”

“Yes daddy, I’ve been so naughty. Please punish me daddy!”

“Shut the fuck up.” You spank her right cheek hard, emitting a loud sound that vibrates around the room.

Yeji shrieks in pain and pleasure as you give two more slaps on both her right and left cheek. Her ass beautifully ripples on each slap, hardening the tent that was beginning to form in your pants.

“That was for giving me a handjob while I was working.”

You crack your knuckles, preparing yourself for the next set of spanks on her butt. You lifted your palm at a decent distance before bringing it down to her bottom hard and fast. Three more similar slaps came quick after, each landing perfectly on both sides of her buttcheeks. Yeji tries her best to keep her moan from coming out of her mouth, not wanting anyone to notice what was going on inside your office.

“That was for squeezing my balls.”

Her cheeks were already turning red due to your smacks, so you let her rest for a while by squeezing them gently to heal a little bit of the stinging pain. With your left hand holding her hips, you lift your free hand further than before, aiming to spank her harder. The right cheek was your target, so with a deep breath, you smack them as hard as possible, prompting Yeji to flinch violently and letting out her first moan.

You made up a set in your head - two on each side of her cheeks, five times. As your smack begins to increase in power, so does her moan being louder after each one. On the third set, you rubbed her butt once again before continuing. Thank god you only had four interns in your team alongside their desks being pretty far away from your office, so you placed a bet that no one could hear anything.

“And this is for edging daddy!”

Your last smack on her ass was the hardest, causing Yeji to let out a shriek and shed a few teardrops from her eyes. Both your right palm and her ass were now sore and painted in a bright red color.

“You okay?” You asked her while squeezing her flesh to relieve the pain.

“Y-Yes daddy…”

“Good, because I have more things planned.”

As Yeji heard you unbuckling your belt and unzipping your pants, her pupils grew out of excitement, finally getting the reward which was your cock. You let your pants rest on your ankles and placed yourself behind her, letting her feel the heat from your crotch on hers. Quickly discarding her thong by ripping it off of her, you grind your bulge against her damp pussy, not caring how your boxers were getting stained by her juices. Yeji squirmed because of the teasing that you intended to do, and your cock was already hurting because of the restraints that were still on it.

“Do you feel that? Do you feel how hard daddy’s cock has become?” Yeji nodded.

“Too bad that you’re not gonna feel this throbbing inside of you.” Your hand then moved to her hair and grabbed a handful of it, forcing Yeji’s head to perk up.

“So, if you want daddy to fuck you,” You get close to her ear once again.

“...then beg.”

“Daddy please please pleeeeease fuck me! I promise I won't edge you during work ever again. Please daddy, don't leave me like this!" Yeji begged you like her life depended on it.

You loved it. You love how Yeji was under your spell, and that alone is enough to make you aroused. Without saying any words, you pulled down your boxers to let your hard cock free and aimed it at her entrance. Yeji gasped in shock as you forcefully pushed yourself into her warm hole with her juices acting as a lube. She was insanely tight, her walls gripped onto your shaft with an intense pressure as you involuntarily let out a loud groan.

Lust takes over you fast as you grab her hips and start pounding her insides right away at a fast pace. Yeji cried out a few swear words, her pussy was completely filled with your shaft as your thrusts were deep and powerful. You showed no signs of slowing down anytime soon, even though you were blue-balled by Yeji earlier and had the potential to reach your peak early.

Suddenly, you heard the sound of footsteps coming closer to the door. You slowed down your thrusts and immediately closed Yeji’s mouth with your right hand, silencing her moans to hear who was outside your office. The person then knocks on the door a few times.

“Sir? Are you there?” That husky voice behind the door was none other than Shin Ryujin, another one of your interns.

“Y-Yeah, I’m a bit busy right now, w-what’s wrong?” You asked while burying your whole cock inside of Yeji’s tight cunt.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure.” Yeji’s body was shaking violently, feeling the fullness of being sheathed by your shaft.

“Alrighty! And oh, should I add extra cream for you, sir? I know you like your coffee thick and smooth.” Ryujin’s words were making you think of something else and your cock reacted by throbbing inside Yeji.

“Oh Ryujin, you definitely know what I like.”

“I’m just doing my job, sir. Anyways, it’ll be ready in about 10 minutes since someone forgot to boil the water earlier.” Ryujin said, clearly talking about Lia.

“It’s fine, take your time!” You then heard Ryujin’s footsteps as she walked away.

A few seconds were wasted on you confirming that Ryujin was gone. Pulling your cock out of her pussy, you turn her around, lift her up and lay her down on your desk after clearing it up. Yeji looked exhausted, due to your shaft being embedded deep inside of her earlier. But that doesn’t stop you from plunging into her depths once again, this time starting off slow.

Your hands sneaked up to her blazer, unbuttoning them to reveal her matching blue bra underneath. Yeji was moaning constantly as your pace began to quicken, but it was quickly muffled by your lips kissing her deeply. Both of your tongues danced along with each other, savoring the moment of exchanging pleasure into your bodies.

“Oh fuck daddy, you’re stretching me out so much!” Yeji firstly said after you broke off the kiss.

“Yeah, you love it don’t you, you slut?”

“Yes, use me as your cumdump daddy!”

“With pleasure.”

With that, you pumped into her as fast and as hard as you could, eager to fulfill what she wanted to be - a slutty cumdump. The burning sensation in your abdomen was felt even more with each thrust of your hips. Yeji’s moans were encouraging you to the max as she was also reaching her own peak. The lustful look in her eyes, silently begging you to cum inside her, it was finally all too much for you to take.

“I'm gonna cu-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you exploded inside her, all the muscles in your body flexing as you sent your warm and thick load into her tight hole. Yeji followed soon after, gushing all of her juices onto your cock and staining the desk. Your legs shook harshly as your orgasm was a big one since Yeji edged you earlier and eventually, your body fell on top of her by the end of your orgasm.

You stayed there for a while, exhausted after releasing every last drop of your cum into her pussy. Yeji smiled and gently pats your head to calm you down from your high.

“Thank you daddy.”

//timeskip//

Lunchtime arrived and you decided to grab a quick one with Yeji at a restaurant near your office. As you both were eating your meal and talking about some work-related topics, you felt a weird sensation in your body.

“Oppa,” Yeji said.

“Yeah?”

“This is just a dream, isn’t it?”

Silence filled the air.

“What are you talking abo-”

When you blinked your eyes, you were suddenly transported to a place full of nothingness. It was black all around you, with fog surrounding the floor. Eureka hits you in an instant.

"I've lost it."

Your legs automatically move to search for that pathway. The pathway that leads you to another dream. As you continued to run towards it, it felt like you were going around in circles. The scent that you're familiar with was gone as well.

Exhaustion came to your body as you stopped running and panted heavily. All hope was lost, you thought. You were never going to experience that dream ever again.

A ray of light suddenly appears in front of you and a familiar voice could be heard.

“Wake up!”

Blink.

[majestyeverlasting]

Can you write prompt(s) 40 & 48 with Dad!Bucky x reader pls?

♡ Of course! Thanks for sending this request in! For the kids, I went ahead and used Jamie and Eden, who are in my Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader fics. There's cute and funny family ~shenanigans~ in this piece (and Eden ends up duping Bucky). I hope you like it!

♡ Prompt 40: "There it is. There's that smile."

♡ Prompt 48: "Those are my pajama pants. They're literally slipping down your waist."

♡ To make a request for my One Month Tumblr-versary, check out my Fluffy Prompt List :)

No Such Thing as Winning By Default Tonight

The way Jamie and Eden greeted Bucky at the door always gave him something to look forward to, to cherish. They were bouncing on the balls of their feet as if it had been ages since they last saw him. In reality, it had only been a span of hours since he’d left that morning. And with sparkling eyes, they waited for him to take off his backpack and shrug off the leather jacket. You’d spent the day out with them, and they were ready to tell their father about everything. From checking out new books at the library, going to the park, and even getting snow cones.

As soon as Bucky finished putting his things in the closet, he scooped Eden up and kissed her cheek. And he pulled Jamie into a hug after giving him a fist bump—the gesture was something the boy insisted they started doing everyday because it was ‘cool.’ It was important not to forget the explosion fingers right after, because that’s what made fist bumps even cooler.

The kids talked a mile a minute as they told Bucky about their day—as if their lives depended on it. Hundreds of people had told him hundreds of things over the years and, yet, listening to their words—and yours—added a value to his life that he hadn't, or couldn’t find anywhere else in the world. A smile stretched across your face when he entered the living room with Jamie and Eden on either side of him. You were sitting on the couch with the laundry basket on the floor in front of you. Folding clothes that, admittedly, should’ve already been taken care of.

Bucky shot you a wink when your eyes met his, and you felt the smallest flutter in your stomach. After spending the day with children, you were glad to have some adult company again. It helped that he was particularly attractive in his unshaven state. “Hey, stranger,” you teased, affectionately. “How was your day?”

“Not too bad,” he said, draping his arms over the kids’ shoulders. “From what these two were telling me, it sounds like you guys went around the world while I was gone.”

That earned a laugh from you. “It feels like we did. I’m not moving for the next week.”

Jamie snorted. “But don’t you have to move? You can’t just stay still,” he said. “You’re moving right now to fold the clothes.”

You gave him a flat look, narrowing your eyes. Everyone else laughed. “Well, in that case, mister, how about you three come do it for me so I don’t have to move?” Your tone was playful.

“Uhhh... Dad can do it. I forgot how to fold,” he lied.

“‘Dad can do it?’” Bucky repeated, looking down at him in feigned disagreement. If you truly needed a break, or wanted any sort of additional help, he’d step in a heartbeat—he always did.

“Wait, I’m actually pretty good at it,” Eden spoke up, leaving her father’s side to plop beside you. “Do you want me to help, Mommy?” Without waiting for an answer, she picked out one of her shirts from the basket.

It was then that Jamie decided he was going to assist too. Instead of joining the two of you on the couch, however, he sat crossed-legged on the floor, and dug to the bottom of the basket in search of his favorite race car graphic tee. The way their brows furrowed in concentration was adorable. And because they were no longer glued to Bucky, he was able to lean down and press a kiss to your temple, hands bracing on the plush arm of the couch. Before he could pull too far away, you cupped his chin and directed his lips to yours in a brief kiss, sighing through your nose. You felt him smile upon hearing the kids’ quiet giggles.

Eden’s voice soon arose. “Hey, Mommy, look. Is this good enough?” Bucky pulled away and straightened back to his full height, clearing his throat and running a hand through his hair.

On Eden’s lap was a white shirt printed with pink flowers that she had folded. “It looks great, E. Put it on the stack of your other stuff.” You pointed to the clothes of hers that you had already folded.

What you ended up finding later that evening was that one of the kids had accidentally placed Bucky’s navy blue pajama pants in your sleepwear drawer. Considering he was off in the playroom with them, you decided to put them on to go get a reaction out of him. You paired them with a gray V-neck.

When you walked in on him and the kids, they were winning in what appeared to be a play fight. They hovered over him as his back was against the floor. A helpless smile budded on your face as you stood watching in the doorway. He tried to prop himself up upon noticing you, but Jamie growled and pushed chest back down.

“Do you surrender?” He asked his father.

A laugh bubbled up Bucky’s throat. “Yes, I surrender.”

“I don’t believe him,” Eden told Jamie.

“I do! I promise,” Bucky said. “I just wanna talk to your mom.”

They let him sit up, and you caught the way his gaze traveled up your body. “Hey… those are my pajama pants,” he said, pushing himself from the floor to go stand in front of you. “They’re literally slipping down your waist.” To prove his point, he attempted to pull them up to a more proper resting place on your hips. But they slouched back down a bit when he let go.

“No they’re not," you challenged with a smile. "They’re mine."

“Oh, is that right?” He let his hands come to rest on your hips, and in turn you wrapped your arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. “They look good on you,” he said, voice low. And before you could register his intentions, he reached around you to squeeze your backside.

Bucky chuckled at your small squeak and dipped down for a kiss. He was gentle, and warm, and smelled woodsy. When he started to pull away, you thought it was way too soon. But, a second later, you realized it was because Jamie had started tugging on the back of his shirt.

You stifled a laugh at the way he rolled his eyes before turning around. “May I help you?” He asked the boy.

“Can we do one more round?” Jamie asked. “But this time you have to go harder on us.”

Eden came to stand beside her brother’s side. “Yeah! And Mommy can be on a team with me and Jamie,” she said.

Bucky looked back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You up for that?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Maybe I should just watch. These pants probably make me wardrobe malfunction prone.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “You’ll be fine.”

That assurance is what landed you in a four-person play fight. Per Jamie’s request, Bucky does exert a little more effort. But he was still overly mindful that nobody got hurt in any other way. For the first few moments, you drew back and let Jamie and Eden make most of the advances on their father. They practically cackled every time he pinned them.

But he eventually locked eyes with you, and you knew he wasn't going to let you remain in the background of the action anymore. All you could do was squeal when he made a very direct advancement. Because you were already kneeling, it didn’t take much for him to force you the rest of the way to the floor. It happened so swiftly that all you could do was let out a surprised huff of laughter. Somehow he managed to capture both of your wrist.

“He’s got Mommy!” You heard Eden say. Then she came to your rescue by pushing his shoulder to divert his attention.

In the sliver of time before Bucky walked on his knees to get the girl, Jamie did a discrete signal to her that she nodded to. All it was was a quick swipe of his pointer finger down his cheek. And between you and Bucky, only you caught their quick exchange. It took a second for it to click that he had told her to fake cry. Or pretend to be hurt, at least.

As soon as Bucky gathered Eden into his arms, and lowered her to the floor in the most gentle 'slam' ever, she enacted their scheme. From her lying position, she winced and released a soft whine. There was no possible way that what he did could've caused any pain, but Bucky didn't even rationalize that. The only thing that rang in his mind was that he'd just hurt his little girl.

“Shoot! I’m sorry, babydoll.” He repositioned to sit in a narrow straddle, and coaxed her up to sit on his thigh. The tenderness of his voice made you want to tell him that she was fine. "What hurts, hmm?" She just continued pouting. Jamie put a hand over his mouth to hide either a smile or shock that it actually worked.

Bucky sighed as his eyes flickered over to you. All you could do was offer an expression that was likely a mix between neutral and guilty. Then he redirected his attention back to Eden and started pressing consoling kisses to her hair. When he noticed her beginning to smile, relief flooded through him. “There it is. There’s that smile,” he said. "I really am sorry, sunshine. Didn't mean to hurt you."

She craned her neck to look up at him. "Daddy..." she said, voice tentative. "I was just kidding..."

Jamie was quick to pitch in. "I only told her to so we could win by default or something. At least she's actually okay, right?" The hopeful edge to his tone made you bite back a smile. "Mom was in on it too." Snitch.

Bucky's mouth fell slightly agape, but he let out a small laugh a second later, shaking his head. "Wow," he breathed. "'Win by default,' huh? Give me a heart attack to 'win by default.'" In all fairness, it had been a somewhat mean trick. But nothing he couldn't recover from.

"I didn't even know if you were gonna believe me!" Eden claimed. She squealed when he suddenly laid onto his back, taking her with him. The sound of their mixed laughter filled the room, and the energetic buzz returned to the atmosphere.

Then Bucky made a proposal to your team. "You guys are gonna have to come save little miss from my arms if you wanna win for real," he said. "No such thing as winning by default tonight."

-

Previously fulfilled request: Cold Little Paws.

[dollslayer]

Botanical Interest - For Luck

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x Florist!Reader

Summary: Steve introduces you to some of the most important people in his life, but are you ready for all that comes with it?

W/C: 4,743

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, gambling

A/N: When I saw @redhead-wine-and-literature-club was doing a floral based challenge I couldn't pass up the opportunity to add to this series! April 28th - Cornflower - good-luck charm. Even though this is part of a series of oneshots it can be read as a standalone! If you like it please like/reblog/comment and check out my other fics! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

The sunlight through the windows warms your skin while the breeze of the small fan on the counter gives you goosebumps. Dog days of Summer slowly set in over the city and with them came a slight dip in business. No one wants a rooftop wedding when it’s 100 degrees out and the drinks are watered down with sweat. You didn’t mind though, it let you put in a little extra time and care to the orders you did have.

You picked up a stem of cornflower and nestled it between snapdragons and lisianthus. It was so dreamy you couldn’t help but sigh, you almost wished it was for yourself. It was for an elopement, an eager young couple came in this morning all smiles asking if you could take the last minute order. Feeling a little sappy from your own relationship you couldn’t turn them down.

You started in on the boutonniere when the music you had on was paused. Curious, you looked at your phone to find you had an incoming call. You balanced the phone in between your shoulder and ear as you gathered supplies.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Doll. How are you?” Steve’s warm voice greeted you.

You smiled into the receiver. “I’m good, just working on the last order of the day. What are you up to?”

“Well actually that’s what I called to ask you. You free tonight?”

“You can meet me at the shop in an hour. Sound good?” You promised.

“Sounds like a plan. I love you, doll, I’ll see you soon.”

After returning his affections you hung up and set to work, excited to be finished and see Steve. Despite his involvement with the mob, which neither of you had really addressed head-on yet, things were going really well. Even though he was involved with murky dealings he was sweet to you and you were in love with him. You tried to plan your night with Steve in your head as you worked.

____

The ringing of a bell roused you from your work, expecting to see the young couple here to pick up their flowers. You were instead face to face with Steve’s handsome smirk and playful eyes. Your smile grew wider as he approached the counter. You held the boutonniere up to the lapel of his jacket and eyed it from a distance.

“Do I have a hot date I didn’t know about?” He joked.

“No!” You giggled, “The flowers are for a couple that came in the shop this morning, they’re going to elope and the groom’s got your complexion, thought I’d see how this looks on you before I finish”

“Oh? And how do I look as a groom?” He questioned.

Your cheeks heated instantly and you felt shy. You managed to squeak out that he looked nice before you had to turn away to box up the flowers. You couldn’t help the stupid smile on your face. You and Steve never talked about marriage before but things were getting serious between you. Maybe he just felt extra cheeky today.

“I like the blue, very colorful”

“They’re cornflowers, they’re a good luck charm! I figured they were fitting for their little wedding. So what did you have in mind for tonight? It’s too hot to sit on the patio but I’ve got a pint of ice cream with our names on it in the freezer at home” You raised your eyebrows in offer.

“Well actually, I was hoping you could be my good luck charm tonight. Bucky’s got a few of us getting together tonight for poker and you’ve yet to meet my friends. What do you say?”

Oh. You weren’t sure what to say. You hadn’t met his friends yet because you were uncomfortable with his mob work and you knew they were involved. But you also knew they were his friends and they were important to him. It’s not like you could avoid them forever. Poker with a mob boss? Sure why not?

You put on a slightly uneasy smile and nodded.

“Well I have to tell you, I haven’t played in forever but I would love to meet your friends” You told him.

“I promise, no shop talk. But I’ve been telling them about you. Buck’s wife Natasha has been dying to meet you. I also promise not to make you play poker.” He said with an easy grin.

“Alright, I just have to wait on this couple to pick up their flowers and close up. Shouldn’t be more than 20 minutes. You can wait here if you want but I’ve got no A/C”

Steve nodded and took off his jacket. He rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

“For you? I’ll sweat it out.” He said.

____

After a quick pit stop at your place to change you were on your way. You smiled in the passenger’s seat, still reeling from the look on the young bride’s face when she saw her bouquet. That was undoubtedly the best part of your job, seeing the joy on your customer’s faces when they saw their arrangements. Maybe this feeling could carry you through the night.

The tires of Steve’s Audi crunched under the gravel of the long driveway up to Bucky’s estate. Steve told you he had a townhouse in Brooklyn but for the most part they stayed at their estate outside of the city. You looked up at the facade of the house and admired the ivy that clung to the bricks.

Parking the car Steve got out and quickly made his way to your side to let you out. Just one of the many old-fashioned quirks that he had. You accepted his hand as he helped you out of the car and leaned up to kiss his cheek. His hand traveled down to rub your back reassuringly. You looked up at him.

“Don’t worry, they’ll love you. Natasha can be intense but she means well. Just be yourself and they’ll love you just as much as I do.” He kissed your hair to soothe you and lead you towards the door.

Steve nodded at the man at the door. “Scott. Nice to see you, this is my girlfriend”

You smiled and gave him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Scott”.

He smiled and greeted you in kind, lifting his hand to shake yours. When he did his jacket rode up and you could see the holster and butt of his gun. You ignored it and shook his hand.

Scott opened the door for you and you entered the house. Mansion, might be a better word honestly. Marble floors, oak woodwork, all the look of any house you’d find in the area and all in line with how you’d think a rich mob boss might live. The foyer was empty but you could hear voices in the distance.

Steve waltzed through the halls like he lived here, when he was at work he probably practically did. The space was teeming with energy as they bantered on with trash talk and promises of beating one another. Men sat at a round table drinking, waiting to deal cards and women standing around sipping on wine.

One man looked familiar from the pictures you’d seen around Steve’s place. His sharp jaw and long dark hair drew your attention instantly; Bucky Barnes, King of Brooklyn. His brows were pinched together in a scowl but he had a playful grin on his face. You steeled yourself the best you could and prepared for your introduction. Just think of him as Steve’s childhood best friend.

“Steve! ‘Bout time you showed up you bastard!” an accented voice belonging to a tall blond man with long hair called. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “And are you the enchantress that our dear friend goes on and on about? Now that I’m meeting you I can see why!”

Steve let out an embarrassed laugh and motioned towards his friend. “This is Thor, don’t let the muscle fool you, he’s a total teddy bear”

You gave him your name and extended your hand when he brought you in for a bone-crushing hug. You let out a laugh and hugged him back, grateful for something to ease the tension you felt.

“How’s that for a warm welcome, huh?” A voice sounded from behind you.

Thor released you from your hug and you took a desperately needed breath. He patted you on the shoulder.

“Wanted to make our dear Steven’s girl feel at home, that’s all” Thor explained. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to beating your boyfriend at poker.” You laughed at that and turned to face the man who spoke earlier.

That man was none other than Bucky, who reached out for your hand. You gave it to him and he instead lifted it to give a gentle kiss.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting the one and only. Stevie here won’t shut up about you sometimes. I’m Bucky but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“I’ve heard about you too, it’s nice to finally meet.” You nodded as you took your hand back.

“I’m afraid I need to steal your man, we’ve been waiting on him to start the game but tell you what, why don’t you go find my wife Natasha, I know she’s been dying to meet you.”

Great, not at all intimidating. Okay fine just smile and breathe. Maybe get a drink. You smiled at Bucky. “The redhead, right?” He nodded and sent you on your way. One last look at Steve you shot him a worried look but he only winked at you.

You looked around the room and shrunk in on yourself a bit. You were never the best with social outings or being in new environments. You looked around again and found the very redhead you had been in search of smirking at you from the corner. She was dressed in a sleek black dress and looked effortlessly beautiful but also like she could strangle a man with her bare hands. You steeled yourself with a smile you’re sure she saw straight through.

“So you’re the one responsible for the flowers at my wedding?” You nodded Pleasesayyoulikedthempleasesayyoulikedthem “I loved them! The wedding planner recommended you and I’m so glad she did. It’s so hard to find a good color pallet but you nailed it. Come on, you need a drink then I’ll introduce you to the girls”

She ushered you towards the kitchen where she took the waiting wine glass from the counter and handed it to you. You didn’t like red but you’d drink it anyways. You brought the glass to your lips and took a sip.

You two talked for a bit in the kitchen, maybe she wasn’t as scary as she seemed. You tipped the stem of your glass until there was nothing left. Before you could ask for different wine she was topping you off from the same bottle. Another round of apprehensive sips and hidden grimaces but you thanked her regardless. It was now your goal to find the sociable sweet spot of drunkenness. You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks from the alcohol as tipsiness settled in.

Natasha raised an eyebrow and considered you for a moment.

“So how are you handling the whole organized crime thing? Gotta say, I didn’t peg you as his type but you guys are cute.”

You stopped yourself from spitting the wine in your mouth back into the glass.

“Um, thanks, I guess” You sputtered, “we uh, try to keep things separate. Figure it’s best for both of us.”

Natasha nodded, taking another drink herself.

“That’s probably best but I mean, how long can you keep that up, really?” She asked

You hated to admit it but she had a point. It’s not like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind. You opened your mouth to answer her when a man walked into the room and called your name. You looked expectantly (and slightly gratefully) towards him.

“I believe your man has requested your presence at the table. Somethin’ about needing a cornflower? I don’t know he said you’d get it. What are you two gossipin’ about in here anyways?” He questioned.

Natasha spoke before you could “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Sam. We’re right behind you.” Sam nodded and retreated back to the doorway to wait for you.

Natasha touched your shoulder and you looked to her.

“Look, I didn’t mean to come off so brash, I guess I’m just trying to say, I know that being involved in this life isn’t easy. We’ll swap numbers later. Maybe we’ll go to lunch” She winked at you. You couldn’t tell if she was being serious or not but you nodded anyways.

“I-Thank you, I think I’d like that. I’d better go find Steve though” you excused yourself and made your way back to the table.

____

Steve Rogers was having a good night. He finally got to introduce his friends to his girl, she seemed to be relaxing a bit and having a better time, and he was well on his way to getting a straight flush this hand. The only thing that would seal the deal is his good luck charm by his side.

Steve called to Sam across the room and as soon as Sam walked over and bent Steve spoke.

“Sam, could you do me a solid and find my girl? Think she went to get a drink with Nat. Tell her I need cornflowers”

“Man if this is some weird sex thing I’m gonna be mad” Sam said with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“Oh, please. Nothin’ like that, promise. She’ll know what it means.” Steve pat his friend on the shoulder and paid attention as Thor dealt cards.

A minute later his girl was walking through the door with an uneasy smile on her face. Something is wrong but he can’t gauge how serious it is. Sam says something to make her laugh and he settles on asking her later. Natasha saunters out behind them looking almost amused but cautious. Like she was regretting something. She’d probably just tried to give his girl the third degree when Sam interrupted them. It’s for the best, that’s too much for one night.

His girl smiles as she approaches him, looking slightly more at ease when she takes another sip of her wine. Her smile was a little looser and she moved a bit more freely, definitely tipsy and completely adorable with that grin on her lips.

“How are things going over here for you boys?”

Gauging how tipsy she was, he patted his knee in offering and she took it with a shy smile. Only slightly. But enough not to worry so much.

“Well, sweetheart, I’m about to kick all their asses and I figured I could use a good luck charm to seal the deal.” He boasted.

“Oh,” she said in realization, “Then I’m all yours”. She settled into his lap and watched on.

Her face was nothing short of endearing as she tried to concentrate and take in the game. He remembered she said she hadn’t been good at poker but it was sweet she was trying to pay attention anyways and be there for him.

“What’s the pot?” She asked.

“Nothin’ serious, there’s a pretty nice box of cigars and a weekend at Buck’s place in the Hamptons in the mix but we don’t do cash at get togethers like this, that’s for boy’s nights only.” He explained as he rubbed her back with his free hand. “Tonight’s just about fun”

She nodded as she studied the table some more before resigning to laying her head against his and listening to whatever bullshit Clint was on about. Steve was focused on getting others at the table to fold, he knew he had a good hand and a good chance of winning, he just needed the others to back down to bring it home.

Thor placed the final community card face up and Steve set out a low whistle. Others at the table looked a little miffed but he just knew he was taking it all. He set down his cards to a chorus of groans as he raked all the chips towards himself. You placed a kiss to his temple and he returned one to your cheek.

“Just the good luck I needed” he said loud enough for the table to hear.

“Hey Steve you gotta come see this!”

Steve tsked in annoyance. “Can it wait? I’m up and we were gonna keep playing. I’ll be there after”

“No, you should go. Let her play a hand for you, we can get to know each other better” Bucky suggested.

“Oh, I don’t think you want me playing poker.” She laughed but nervousness was the only emotion he could see on your face. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.

“She’ll be fine, we’ll go easy on her, I mean it. If it makes you feel better we’ll even hold the pot. This round is just for shits.” Bucky insisted.

Caught between wanting to ask how you felt about it and not wanting to get flak about being so sensitive Steve tilted his head in silent asking at you.

You gave him the same unsure smile you’d had all night and nodded up at him. “I’ll be fine, Stevie, promise.”

He gave her a reassuring smile and then turned his eye to Bucky who was all smiles. He knew exactly what Bucky was trying to do. Buck knows she doesn’t know anything but he’s gonna turn the screws on her just like he does with anyone new at the table. Steve gave him a stern expression in warning. Don’t scare her off.

____

You could hear your heart beating in your ears as you tried to decide what to do. Take it slow. You told yourself. You looked up to find all the eyes at the table on you and did your best to calm yourself.

“So who’s dealing?” A man you hadn’t previously met swiped the cards and began shuffling.

“Look, I know we said we’d put the pot on hold but Laura’s been bugging me about a vacation and I don’t know that I can pass up this opportunity to steal from Steve so easily, so” The man you’d come to know as Clint trailed off. You did your best not to be offended.

“Shut up, Barton. I promised Steve, we just wanna have a little fun, don’t we?” Bucky asked.

Is he asking me?

You decided to take a sip of your wine instead and he chuckled.

“So,” Bucky turned to you, “I know that you know about what we do, there’s no point in denying it. The question is are you going to be a problem for us or do you know how to keep things to yourself?”

Frozen in fear you could only manage to look at the rest of the table, hoping to find that this was all a joke. Instead, every face looking to you was stony and waiting on an answer. God, this man was made for Natasha, that much is clear. Your eyes darted around the room looking for an out. Where is Steve? Where the fuck is Steve?

You don’t find him, but you do find Natasha looking at you, she smiles and looks to her husband before she shakes her head. She makes her way over to her husband and lightly smacks him in the back of the head.

The look of surprise on his face ruins his silent and aggressive front as he winces in pain. He looks in slight annoyance at his wife as she tsks at him.

“Will you stop already? She’s a smart girl and you don’t need to go scaring her off. In fact, I hope she beats you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she did.” Natasha sounded so confident. You warmed to the fact that she was in your corner when you were practically a stranger in her home.

“Aw c’mon, Babe, I was only messin’ with her.” Bucky turned to Nat and she just challenged him with a smile.

You didn’t know why Natasha has suddenly become so supportive, maybe she felt bad about earlier but you were grateful to her. She pulled up a chair between the two of you to watch and motioned to the dealer to continue. You finished your second glass and prepared yourself for the night ahead. Any chance they had of you going easy on them went out the window.

____

You lost the first hand graciously, saying you hadn’t played poker since you were in college as an excuse for your loss. But when Steve was still busy and Bucky offered another round you accepted. You decided to put your full effort in this time.

Twenty minutes later everyone at the table was feeling confident in their hands, staring at each other like some sort of Mexican standoff, willing the others to fold. You could tell by the way Clint kept scratching the cut on his chin that he was screwed and he knew it. Thor couldn’t go more than 5 seconds without nervous laughing.

But Bucky? He was a tough read but about half way through the round his leg started bouncing. You knew this because he was bumping into Natasha, who’s wine was sloshing around in the glass despite her stillness. These clods didn’t stand a chance.

The dealer, Vision, you’d learned, called for everyone to show their cards. Here goes. One by one everyone set their cards down until finally it was your turn. You set them down but focused on your opponents faces. Everyone looked confused, shocked even. You had laid down a royal flush and handily smoked them all.

“Holy shit”

“Holy shit indeed”

“Told you so” Nat teased.

You smiled at all of them and drank from your newly topped off glass of wine - white this time. A warm pair of hands rested on your shoulders and you looked up to find Steve smiling down at you.

“What’s going on over here, gentlemen?”

“Well, Steve, I think your girl is hustlin’ us. Thought you said you hadn’t played since college?” Bucky turned to you. You couldn’t gauge how angry he was but you decided to be honest.

“I haven’t,” you began, “But when I did I was pretty damn good. You just assumed I didn’t know what I was doing.” You shrugged.

The room was tense, it felt like everyone was looking to Bucky to see what to do next. He broke out into a wide smile and a low chuckle turned into hearty laugh. Everyone visibly relaxed.

“I gotta say, Steve. She isn’t what I expected, but she’s sure somethin’”

“A girl after my own heart” Natasha added.

Steve bent down to kiss your head. You stood from the table and offered him your seat. Nat put a hand on your shoulder.

“Steve I’m going to steal her again, the girls will probably want to hear all about your little cardshark.”

____

He had to admit, he was completely blown away by your little stunt at the table. He thought back to earlier when you watched him play. You weren’t trying to desperately understand the game, you were studying your opponents. He couldn’t deny it was kinda hot. You were full of surprises.

He smiled thinking that you were no different than the day you met, timid but aggressive when you need to be. That’s my girl.

The rest of the night came and went without incident, Steve didn’t end up taking home the pot but he did have a conversation with Bucky.

“She and I don’t talk about work. She knows that what we do isn’t exactly reputable but let’s face it, anyone in Brooklyn would. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t want to.”

Bucky took a long drag from his glass of bourbon and nodded.

“But if she ever did I hope she’s smart enough to know she has to keep what she knows to herself. We can’t afford any slip ups.”

Steve’s fists clenched and he controlled his anger enough not to snap at Bucky. He was his best friend but Bucky was still the boss and Steve knew how much was at stake.

“Not that it’s any of my business but you love this girl, right?” Steve swallowed thickly and nodded.

“Then how the hell are you gonna manage that? Keepin’ your two worlds separate? I mean, you just gonna walk her down the aisle and live happily forever keeping half your life from her? I need to know that if push came to shove she wouldn’t sell us out. Things are fine for now but you know that you’re either in or you’re out. I care about you, Steve, you’re my best friend but you need to see straight.”

Steve looked away, his jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. He knew Bucky was right. He loved you but he owed his life to Bucky, he was his brother. But he loved you. They were careful in their work and he knew any feds that tried to come after them wouldn’t find a thing. He could put this issue into a box and seal the lid tightly, at least for a while.

“I know you’re right. I love her and she’s a good woman. She wouldn’t say anything because she doesn’t know anything. And she never will.”

He left Bucky to stand on his own in search of you. He found you laughing with Laura, Wanda and Nat. He smiled at how welcomed you seemed to feel despite the rocky start.

“You ready to go, doll?”

You turned around and smiled at him. You looked back at the girls and then reluctantly back to him but nodded.

“Guess we’d better go, I’ve got to get down to the flower market at open tomorrow morning”

____

After a very long round of goodbyes you swapped numbers with Nat with promises of future lunch plans. The night had turned out worlds better than you thought that it would. You served a bunch of men their own egos on a silver platter and didn’t get murdered for it and you even made friends.

Still though Nat’s words echoed in your mind ‘how long can you keep that up, really?’ Little did you know but the same thoughts troubled Steve. You knew eventually you would have to make a choice if you ever wanted to get more serious than you were with each other, you just didn’t know what choice you’d make.

The ride home was quiet but not tense. He held your hand a little tighter than usual but you thought maybe he was just excited you had gotten on so well with your friends. He pulled up to your building and put the car in park.

“So do you think they liked me? I mean, other than hustling them at poker I’d say I made a pretty good impression”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah, doll. Gotta say, the whole cardshark thing? Kinda hot, didn’t know you had that in you, you little fiend.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and grinned at him. “I wasn’t gonna but Clint started talking shit.”

“Then he deserved his ass kicked” Steve joked. “I’d come up but I know you’ve got an early morning. Thank you for coming and meeting everyone tonight, I know that you want to keep things separate but these people are family to me, it means a lot that you met them”

You nodded and smiled. You told yourself you didn’t need to make the choice between getting involved with his work and keeping it apart from the other aspects of your life but it seems that by meeting them you had already made one.

Maybe you could talk more to Nat about this, she’d know what your situation is like more than anyone. For now though you decided to focus on the present reality, you had a good night and you had fun and now you’re about to kiss the man you love.

“Of course” you whispered. You kissed him slowly, trying to put off the sleepless night you were surely about to have.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you”

“I love you too, Stevie”

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

**

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏😇🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

**

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

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[moonlit-imagines]

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

[jujutsu-headcanons]

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong. 

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further 

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle. 

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did 

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed 

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out. 

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one 

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art" 

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on 

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine 

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Syverson the Protector pt 5

*   Syverson The Protector - Part I (pairing Syverson x YOU)

*   Syverson the Protector - Part II (pairing Syverson x YOU)

*   Syverson the Protector - Part III  (pairing Syverson x YOU)

*   Syverson the Protector - Part IV  (pairing Syverson x YOU)

Author note: Finally part 5! Thank you so much for hanging in with me through this delightful journey and I hope that this part quenches your desire.

Summary:  Henry has invited you to spend a few weeks at his cabin in the mountains and of course you agree. 💖NEW💖

Rating for this part:  Sex, fluff, discussion of trauma (minor) Everyone has a good time and Aika is there too :)

I’ve picked ‘Henry’ as Syverson’s first name and he’s grown his hair out :D

Must be read in order, no part can stand alone.

Word count: 7500

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

‘Well,’ said your nurse as she watched you sort and pack your belongings. ‘If you want him to know how you feel, you have to tell him.’ 

She folded her arms and leaned against the narrow door frame to your hospital room. You glanced up at her. 

‘I’m not twelve, Barb,’ you scoffed, nevertheless feeling pleased with her observation.

‘Well you were the one asking me to pass notes to him like you were in school.’ 

You raised your brows in surprise and then pointed an accusatory finger at her. You had resorted to note passing because you couldn’t see Henry face to face and communicate with him like an adult. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but you made it work. 

‘You, Nurse Barb,’ you started, about to say something caustic and then relented, deciding to be sweet. ‘Did a great job passing notes, and I thank you.’ 

You flipped closed your small travel case and crossed the hospital room to grab at one of the slowly deflating helium ‘Get Well’ balloons which still listed lazily around the silver weight that held it in place. With a small pair of scissors, you cut the ribbon tether and lanced the mylar in an inconspicuous place. Pressing the balloon to your chest, you squeezed out the remainder of the helium air mix and added the now flat balloon to the pile of other flattened balloons. 

‘So? Then what are you going to do about it?’ Barb continued to press.  ‘Leave and regret never having said anything?’’

You stopped compacting the pile of deflated balloons and turned to look at her. 

This whole budding romance thing between two war torn lovers must have been the most exciting thing that had ever happened to the nurse, you thought pleasantly. It was certainly exciting to you. So, you cut her some slack. 

‘I just happen to know that he’s outside in the pool area right now. And, you have some time before your flight.’ 

The look on her face was both encouraging and infuriating. 

Smiling, you walked to the door and patted Barb’s shoulder. 

‘All right. I’ll go.’

She waggled her brows, turned and walked with you down the narrow corridor and then through the half-empty dayroom. She stopped at the double glass doors that led to the pool area and used her weight to press open one side.

‘I can’t tell if you’re a really good matchmaker or a really bad matchmaker,’ you said absently. 

She shrugged.  

‘Good luck, and don’t be too hard on him.’ 

‘I won’t. Well, I probably won’t. Well...I can’t promise.’ 

She chuckled and quickly gave you a one-armed hug. 

‘I’ll have them bring your bags to the car when it turns up. There are a few people going to the airport with you. So if I don’t see you… keep in touch, ok?’

You nodded and walked through the open door. 

The pool area, as they called it, was really just a collection of beach umbrellas shading colourful inflatable kiddie pools, some blowup flamingos, and an odd assortment of mismatched lawn chairs. There were several men camped out around most of the medium sized pools, with their feet in the water and enjoying each other’s company. You spotted Henry right off the bat, as he was the only one still in a wheelchair and paused a moment to watch him laugh at something the man next to him had just said. You were loath to interrupt them. 

I’ll just leave a note, you thought, turning your back to the men in order to return to the day room. He won’t mind. I’ll leave a note and my business card so he won’t feel pressured to say anything to my face.

A little lost in thought, you lingered there for a moment, with your hand on the door handle when your thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of teasing male voices calling out your name, accompanied by whistles and several coquettish sounding ‘yoo-hoo!’s. 

A wave of heat rushed into your face and you hunched your shoulders in a self-conscious cringe. 

Jesus Christ you hated military men sometimes.

 But you had been caught and you had no other choice but to turn around and face them. 

One of the men kicked out the empty lawn chair closest to Syverson and waved you over. Taking the invitation, you drew the chair close to the circle, lightly rested your hand on Henry’s shoulder and sat down next to him. It was good to see him looking so well. 

‘I read your new article,’ said the man, and by deciphering his medical wristband you learned he was called Solensky. ‘That was a damn brave thing you did.’ 

You shook your head and looked at Syverson, hoping that he didn’t think you were trying to steal glory.

‘I didn’t write it to showcase what I did. I had to tell people what really happened. How heroic the men were. And my partner. The sacrifices that they all made. What I did wasn’t important.’

‘Saving my life wasn’t important?’ 

Syverson sounded a little bit hurt and turning to him you were at a loss to read his suddenly cloudy expression. 

You opened your mouth to protest. 

‘I-- I didn’t mean that you… of course you are important. I just did what I had to.’

You held his incredulous gaze and continued, ‘you know that, Henry.’

Didn’t he believe you?

‘He don’t mean it like that,’ said Solensky. ‘He means that, you doing what you did, was important. Even if you don’t think it was.’ 

Henry obviously agreed with the man’s assessment, for a smile lifted the corner of his mouth and you cut a relieved and fondly exasperated  look at him. Sitting back in the creaky lawn chair you kicked your feet out in front of you and rested them against the cushy rounded pool edge. 

‘Thank you,’ you said finally and nodded to Solensky. ‘I had hoped to get it finished and published before I left.’ 

It felt good to hear some praise from the men you were trying to uplift. 

‘You leaving soon?’ he asked. 

‘Yes. Today. In a few hours in fact.’

You turned to face Henry again. 

‘I wanted to say goodbye before I did.’ 

His face remained unreadable and you feared that you had upset him in some way.

The door to the dayroom opened and Barb called to you. 

‘The car is here early. They have to do more stops, so you’ll have to leave now, I’m sorry.’

You shot Syverson a panicked look. 

Now? But you didn’t say all you wanted to say. You didn’t have time!

‘Ok,’ Henry said finally. ‘You don’t want to keep them waiting or they’re gonna have you walking home.’ 

He pressed himself up and out of the wheelchair and breathing a little hard from the exertion, he faced you when you stood as well.

‘I’m in your debt. Whenever you need me, for whatever reason, I want you to call on me. It don’t matter, you got that?’

‘I got it,’ you answered, feeling a deep pang of agony and regret in your gut. Leaving was harder than you had expected. 

Henry smiled then and curving his arms around you, he pulled you against his sun warmed body. 

And what torture it was for him to hold you like that! 

You put your head on his chest and embraced him in return. And, when you lifted your teary eyes, he leaned in and  kissed your forehead. But that wasn’t good enough. Not nearly enough and you squeezed him when his lips met yours. 

‘Ok… ok,’ you giggled, feeling hot faced and aroused. ‘You gotta stop that or I won’t be able to leave.’ 

He didn’t release you. 

‘You can stay and come home with me,’ he said, moving in for another kiss. 

You ducked your head and stepped out of his embrace. 

‘If you behave, maybe I will.’ 

Barb cleared her throat, a signal that you were out of time, and kissing him quickly, you turned to leave. 

‘Barb’ll give you my card. It’ll have my info on it.’

‘I will?’ she asked, glaring at you and then at him. ‘Boy, I’ll be glad when you leave and I can stop all of this note ferrying back and forth.’ 

‘See ya,’ said Henry. 

‘Soon,’ you promised and went through the day room doors. 

**

It had been six months. Six months of convalescing at home, writing columns and binge watching all of the television shows you missed while you were deployed. It had also been a pleasant six months of regular correspondence with Henry, which culminated in him asking you to come to the mountains with him for a few weeks. He had a little cabin in Montana which he had been renovating and now that Aika was finished with her mandatory quarantine in the States, he was going to go there and relax. 

A few weeks in the fresh mountain air was just what you needed and once you agreed, he made and paid for your travel arrangements. 

 **

It was refreshingly cool when you shuffled into the noise and chaos of the airport arrival terminal on your way to the baggage claim. However, you walked a little more leisurely than the hustling crowd, taking in the sights and idly people watching. As a journalist, although you had trekked through more airports than you cared to count, the peculiar culture of tiny, and expensive indoor pseudo-cities like this was still so compelling. It wouldn’t be strange to see a bleary eyed man chowing down on a stacked burger and swilling his third bourbon on the rocks at 6:30 in the morning. Or seeing a grown woman tucked into an awkward corner, and clutching her carry-on bag protectively in front of her as she tried to catch some sleep during an unexpected flight delay.

You had been both of those people at one point or another in your travels. But there was another reason why you were strolling and taking your time examining the mass produced keychains and tee shirts proclaiming the name of the state you were in. You were nervous and your heart banged painfully against your ribs. You could feel it galloping and straining against its internal tethers and you had to stop occasionally and pretend to look at overpriced pizza slices in order to catch your breath.

You were nervous about seeing him again. That sweet, unfairly handsome Captain Henry Syverson.

The thought of him made you smile but you pressed it into a straight neutral line in the event someone was watching. You didn’t want to seem crazy, grinning down at a display case of heat-lamp warmed slices of cheese pizza. 

When you finally reached baggage claim, a man, dressed in a dark suit and white shirt was waiting for you. He stood  with the rest of the chauffeurs looking bored and holding an open tablet on which your name stood out in bold block letters on the screen. You walked expectantly up to him and he smiled and greeted you by name.

‘How was your trip?’ he asked, as he walked  with you to the baggage carousel.

‘It was fine, thank you.’

And the two of you stood side by side watching the conveyor belt start to move and roll out the luggage.

‘Which one is yours?’ he asked, moving closer to the belt, ready to snag your bag as it tumbled by.

‘The red one, with the white stripe. It has the camera shaped luggage tag.’

He nodded and when that red bag came by, he grabbed it by the side handle. He then put it down, pulled up the telescoped handle and indicated that you follow him to the parking lot. Outside, the cool air woke you from your flight induced stupor and you took in a long cleansing breath. 

‘First time in Montana?’ he asked, grinning as he watched you stretch your arms and back. 

‘Just tired,’ you said. ‘Long flight.’ 

He opened the door to the glossy black SUV and helped you step up into the high spotless interior. Through the back window you watched him stow your suitcase in the trunk and followed him with your eyes until he climbed into the truck.

‘So,’ he said and fiddled with his tablet. ‘It’s going to take a little while to get to the destination. Is it warm enough for you? Too warm? There are snacks in the centre console and water under the seat. Do you mind if I have the radio on?’

The questions seemed rehearsed and you assured him that everything was fine before you sat back into the plush leather seats and he drove off.

Taking out your mobile, you switched it off of airplane mode and it immediately pinged that you had a message.

Making sure you landed safely.

You smiled and replied that you had done just that and were already on your way.

I’ll be waiting. I hope you’re hungry.

The driver was right. It took two and a half hours to get to the cabin and the last mile or so was on a dirt road so pitted and bumpy that you weren’t sure you were going to come out of the ride in one piece.

But it was all made better when you spotted Henry standing with Aika on the broad porch of a gorgeous mountain cabin. When he said that he wanted you to spend time with him at the cabin, you immediately pictured it to be a one or two room Little House on the Prairie type place. Which was absolutely fine with you, as you wouldn’t be there to admire the decor. However, you were not expecting the beautiful structure that stood proudly amongst the trees.

The driver slowed, made an awkward k-turn in the dirt and deposited you directly in front of the tall man approaching the truck.

The sight of Henry made you feel weak and proud to show the driver that you had been chosen by a superior specimen. Henry briefly spoke to the driver through his open window and the trunk popped open. With hands clasped in your lap, you waited. Henry grabbed your suitcase, slammed shut the trunk and then opened your door. He positively beamed at you and when you took his outstretched hand, you felt like a princess being rescued from a high tower.

When the SUV made its way back down the dirt road and the two of you were finally alone, you were faced with one of two decisions.

One: behave in your usual awkward way and shake his hand or pat his shoulder and thank him for letting you come and visit.

Or

Two: press into his arms and give him the biggest hello I fucking missed you, kiss he’d ever received.

With some internal dismay, you found yourself leaning towards option one. You didn’t want to lead him to the wrong impression about you and slowly you extended your hand.

A look of surprise drifted across his face, but he was apparently willing to follow your lead. Before he could take that hand, you had a change of heart and instead ran straight at him and clamped your arms about his waist.

‘Hey, baby,’ he murmured, kissing the top of your head and enveloping you in his strong arms.

Oh God, you thought. I’m gonna start crying.

Tears pricked your eyes and before you could stop yourself, you heaved with a desperate sob.

‘What’s the matter?!’ he asked, sounding alarmed with the sudden change in your attitude.

You clutched him tighter and put your face against him.

‘I’m… I’m so happy to see you standing right here,’ you gasped.

The last time you’d seen him in the flesh, he had still been mostly confined to a wheelchair, still healing from his terrible wounds and unable to look after himself. But there he was now, strong and whole and so warm in your arms that you felt an overwhelming sense of affection for him. 

Henry held you tighter and you felt infinitely safe in his embrace. Everything was right with the world. 

‘I thought about the moment I could do this,’ he said, gently stroking your back. ‘And now I made you cry.’

‘I’m just so happy to see you well,’ you said, pulling back and looking at his wryly smiling face. ‘And not hooked up to wires and IVs.’

‘Ok,’ he drawled. ‘Me too. In that case…’

He curved one hand about your cheek and lifting your face, he kissed you. It took a few more moments of cuddling before you eventually stopped trembling and having an existential crisis. He drew back, bent down and picked up your bag. 

‘You hungry?’ he asked, slipping his hand down to your lower back and guiding you to the glorious cabin. 

‘Famished!’ you announced and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. 

The dog on the porch sat up and wriggled with pleasure, her thick furry tail whapping excitedly on the wooden boards. 

Henry dragged his fingers through the thick brown and black scruff and scratched her angular head. The dog bowed and flattened her ears softly and approached you. You put both hands on her head and massaged her fluffy ears. 

‘I remember you,’ you said to the dog who continued to eagerly lick at your hands.

‘This place is different than where she’s from, but she loves it.’ 

Then to Aika he said, ‘stay on the porch.’

And the dog promptly flopped down on the cushiony bed made from folded quilts and began her surveillance of the surrounding tranquil woods. 

Henry opened the cabin door and ushered you in. 

The inside was just as spectacular as the outside and your mouth came open with surprise. 

‘I know you did all of this, didn’t you. It’s so… beautiful.’

‘I had help,’ he answered modestly. ‘It’s been a work in progress for years. Still got some things to do, but it’s liveable.’

Liveable, you scoffed silently. That was an understatement. The place was an obviously handcrafted masterpiece. From the matte blonde wood flooring and the warm caramel panelling, it was a masculine tribute to a rustic lifestyle. The appliances were new, but understatedly retro and wood burning. The main living room was broad and comfortable with soft couches and homespun appointments. You followed Henry down a narrow hallway to the left. Off of that hallway was a short staircase that led to the upper floor. 

‘There’s a guest bedroom down there,’ he said pointing to the door at the end of the corridor and the master is upstairs.’

He gestured that you go up the stairs and you complied. Opening the door at the top of the stairs, you found yourself walking into a bright warm room with a large bed facing a broad clean window that overlooked the trees and the lake behind the cabin. It smelt of pine and you wondered if he picked that scent because he thought you might like it. You did like it. 

Henry put your bag on the floor by the bed. 

‘This is your room.’ 

He rested a hand on the glossy dresser top which had been pushed against the far wall. 

‘You can put your stuff in here, or hang them up in the closet.’ 

He opened the door next to the dresser to show you the empty closet space. 

‘Bathroom’s over here.’ 

He crossed the room, opened the second door and you poked your head in, pleased to see a full bath and tub.

That tub might come in handy for sexytimes. 

Once the tour was completed you smiled at him, but left the question of where he was going to stay to burn on the tip of your tongue. 

It didn’t stay there long for Henry beat you to it. 

‘I’ll be downstairs… in the guest room.’ 

There was hesitation in his voice and he trailed off seeming suddenly shy and awkward. 

Was he as nervous about your visit as you were?

 He didn’t look at you as he put a hand against the back of his head, which you knew  was an unconscious self-soothing gesture. But you didn’t want to put him out of his misery just yet. You were enjoying it too much. 

‘If… when you need me,’ he finished.  

The implication of needing him, at night, hung heavily in the air and trailing a finger up his bare forearm, you squashed a smile. 

‘And you’ll be downstairs…’ you said, keeping your voice serious and your expression neutral. ‘If… I mean when I need you. You’ll be downstairs? In the guest bedroom? Downstairs?’

He looked at you a moment, his own expression a mild mix of confusion and then that sweet slow bloom of understanding in his eyes. You saw the exact moment that he realised you were teasing him and you couldn’t help laughing. 

‘C’mon you,’ you said, slipping your hand into his. ‘I’m starving.’ 

***

Once downstairs, he packed a big red-topped cooler with vegetables and potatoes and steaks that had been marinating overnight, as well as cutlery, plates and other sundry items. Carrying only a chilled six pack of bottled lager, you followed him down the winding gravel path to the lake. There was a rustic firepit down there flanked by two dark wood adirondack chairs and a picnic table. 

You wondered if he made all of that himself and then chuckled. Of course he did.

 You watched him dump the cooler next to the grated firepit and go to grab a few already split logs from a nearby pile. Clutching the thin cardboard handle of the sixpack in both hands you felt unbearably girly and unwilling to admit that watching him start a fire with a small pile of tinder and a magnesium firestick, aroused the fuck out of you. It didn’t help that his jeans stretched nicely across his thighs when he crouched lower and gently blew onto the young flame before quickly adding additional fuel until the fire was stable enough to tent the logs over it. 

Henry rose and dusted his hands against the seat of his jeans and you cleared your throat. 

‘That was sexy,’ you said and laughed at your own audacity. 

He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly appreciative of your praise, but instead of addressing it, he pointed to the short pier. 

‘Do you see the green nylon sack over there?’

You looked and nodded. 

‘Take the bottles and put ‘em in the sack and lower it into the water. That’ll keep ‘em cold.’ 

Feeling helpful, you did as you were told. When you returned a few minutes later, you hoisted yourself up onto the top of the picnic table and rested your feet on the bench seat.

‘Do you want some help?’ you asked after a moment. 

‘Nope,’ he answered, and cast another amused look at you over his shoulder. ‘You just sit there and be pretty for me, ok?’

You preened, and lightly patted your face. It was as pretty as you were going to get. 

‘I think I can do that. Sure.’ 

And you sat there thinking about having children with him. You imagined taking them on camping trips and teaching them all of the survival skills they needed to fend for themselves in the event the zombie apocalypse drove your family into the woods. So you asked him if he was prepared for the apocalypse and sat there rapt as he explained his six point plan and how he had been planning and storing for the last three years. 

When dinner was ready, the two of you ate at the picnic table and drank most of the beer and discussed the pros and cons of wasting ammo to achieve a head shot as opposed to just disabling the zombie so that you could escape it. 

‘Yeah, but you are the one who’s gonna get the successful headshots. I’m just out there swinging a rake or something.’ 

‘Can get you a katana if you like.’

You laughed and swigged your beer. Pointing the mouth of the bottle at him you scoffed. 

‘A katana?? I’d more likely slice myself up before I’d do any damage to a zombie.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Henry replied easily and stood up to stoke the fire. 

He helped himself to another few spoonfuls of vegetables, which when offered, you declined. 

‘A little training and some practice, you’d be fine.’ 

‘You have a lot of misplaced faith in me, sir,’ you teased him. 

Henry was quick to answer. 

‘You’re wrong. You already proved to be capable, ingenious and tougher than you think. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.’

Your chest tightened at the traumatic  memory and you stared down at your empty bottle.  The helpless tears started to threaten again. 

But biting them back, you reached across the table and put your hand over his. Henry took it, curved your fingers over his and brought your hand to his lips.

Henry’s open emotion made you feel just as raw and vulnerable as you had that fateful day. The day that entwined your lives together forever. 

You reached for him with your other hand and stroked his cheek, trailing your fingers through his beard which continued to amaze you with how soft it was to touch. He captured your other hand and kissed that one as well and then held them both. And when he smiled, you smiled in return. It was all right now. 

It was starting to get dark and across the lake,  you could see the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains. Henry got up and began clearing the table. 

 ‘ Go and sit by the fire,’ he instructed you when you tried to help. 

If he wanted to do all of the work, who were you to stop him. You slid onto the cool chair and drew your knees up and to the side to get comfortable just as Aika came trotting out of the woods. She went immediately to you and put her slobbery chin on your thigh. You rubbed her furry head until she was tired of the attention and went to beg scraps from Henry. 

‘Coffee?’ he asked a moment later and lifted an old battered tin percolator to show you that he meant coffee and not anything else. 

‘I could have one, sure.’ 

You had got used to black coffee during your time on the front and really never bothered to change it when you went back to civilian life. The cup he gave you was hot and tasted fresh with a hint of vanilla. 

‘Vanilla,’ you said and he chuckled, seating himself in the chair next to you. 

‘I ah… I got used to it over there, now I can’t drink any other kind.’ 

You didn’t mind it. Not at all and the two of you sat in companionable silence. 

‘It’s a beautiful place, Henry. A beautiful cabin. I am amazed that you did all of this.’

‘My friends helped. This is their place when they want it too.’

Aika flopped down on the space between the chairs and Henry reached down to pat her head. 

‘Are you glad I’m here?’ you asked finally, admittedly fishing a little for compliments. 

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m very glad you’re here.’ 

You were going to say something else but a yawn caught you off guard. Now that you were full and content and safe, sleepiness began to creep in around the corners. 

‘You had a long flight,’ Henry offered as explanation, holding out his hand to take your cup. ‘If you want to go on in to sleep, I’ll take care of things here out here.’ 

‘No! No, I don’t want to leave. I’m not too sleepy.’ 

‘Awright,’ he chuckled and leaned back into the chair. 

Aika yawned then and you did the same. You put the cup on the flat arm of the chair and closed your eyes. You had never felt so happy and before you knew it, you had drifted off. When you woke with a start later, it was dark and the fire had been extinguished. A glimmer of faint stars reflected by the lake was your only anchor point that confirmed where you were. 

But it was the type of dark that could only be achieved when there was no light pollution from nearby cities and you felt a twinge of panic. 

‘Henry?’ you called sitting up. 

He wasn’t in the chair next to you and Aika was gone. 

Shit! What if the killer was still out there?

You heard footsteps approaching on the gravel path. 

‘I’m here.’ 

His voice was warm and steady. 

There was no moon and standing, you blindly searched in front of you as he came closer. He put his hand around you, resting it low on your back then pulled you to him. At his touch, a jolt of welcomed pleasure spread out from your core. 

‘Why are you out here lurking in the dark?’ you giggled softly, pressing your hands flat on his chest.

‘Making sure nothing carries you off,’ he replied just as quietly and gave you a squeeze. 

Henry was clearly feeling for the edges of your boundaries and you deeply appreciated that about him. He hadn’t forced your hand and he was eagerly playing by your rules. 

‘I’m glad to have my big strong protector to save me from the monsters. Are you… gonna take me inside now?’

‘Yeah. C’mon.’ 

God, his voice was so unbearably soft and alluring and you knew that if you weren’t careful, you would find yourself beneath him in his bed tonight. 

You had to be careful, so once inside the cabin, you kissed him and bade him goodnight. Admittedly, that probably wasn’t how he expected the evening to end but you knew you were going to make the wait worth his while.

After showering thoroughly, you changed your clothes and sat down on the edge of the soft bed. The cabin was quiet except for the normal sounds of the woods coming in through the open window and the sounds of Henry moving around downstairs. 

I could get used to this. 

After a moment you heard the shower running downstairs and you immediately worried that you hadn’t left enough hot water for him. Stretching out on top of the quilt you listened and imagined his naked body, his wet, soapy naked body and a tingle raced up your thighs and pooled insistent heat in your groin. You bit your lip and pushed your hand between your legs. You held your hand there, still and unmoving and listened until everything had fallen silent on the lower floor.  

You breathed quietly, in and out and in and out again and relaxed, drawing your hand away and tucking it across your midsection. 

Sleep, you thought. It was all going to be more rational in the morning. 

**

Bright sunlight and sweet bird songs greeted you the next morning. After washing up, you followed the scent of coffee and breakfast downstairs. 

The front room was empty, but there was food and a still steaming coffee pot on the stove. The sound of Aika barking outside led you to the door and then out onto the porch. Henry stood at the bottom of the steps holding a red ball which he launched into the air for the dog to chase. He turned when you came to stand next to him. 

‘Morning,’ he grinned and kissed you when you lifted your face to ask for it. 

‘Hi. How did you sleep?’

‘Yeah, good, good. You?’

You stretched in the warm morning sunlight and fondly watched Aika race back to you. She dropped the ball and danced away, to wait for the next missile. Henry obliged and the dog took off again. 

‘It was better than I expected,’ you admitted happily. ‘It usually takes me a couple of nights before I can get comfortable in a new place.’ 

He nodded and took a drink from his flowered cup. 

‘Good. Hungry?’

‘I love that you’re always feeding me,’ you said joyfully. ‘Can we eat down by the lake?’

‘Anything you want, baby,’ he agreed. 

The air by the lake was warm and fresh and a few metres out on the water was a group of ducks having a morning swim. Basking in the sun with a hearty meal and an intriguing and funny man was the most indulgent thing you could have possibly done. And you held onto the moment for as long as it presented itself. 

You even agreed to a short easy hike after breakfast and in a sun drenched meadow you lay in the sweet smelling grass and talked about nothing in particular. 

The day passed in uneventful bliss and again, Henry prepared dinner over the fire and afterwards the two of you sat side by side on the top porch step to watch some unexpected fireworks in the eastern sky. 

During a lull in the colourful explosions, you went inside to grab a seat cushion.

When you came onto the porch, you were careful not to kick the cup at Henry’s side. Instead you picked up your own cup and gesturing for him to make room, you tossed down the cushion and sat on the step right between his knees. A little smile blossomed on your face, a response to the feeling of peace spreading through you, and you leaned back against Henry using his thighs as arm rests.

‘I like this,’ you said quietly and relaxed into the warm hands gently kneading your shoulders. 

‘Yeah.’

The sound of him, low and husky behind you, filled you with pleasure. You pressed harder between his open legs and he went still. This was the moment of truth.  Your heart thrummed with anticipation against your ribs and when he relaxed, so did you. 

A beat of silence drifted between you and then he spoke. 

‘You wanna go inside with me?’

There was a loud scratching sound of your nails raking along his jeans, evidence of your involuntary reaction to his clear invitation. 

‘Yes. I-- want to.’ 

The breath he let out was audible. 

‘C’mon then.’ 

Henry pushed himself up from the step and effortlessly lifted you in the process. It was like floating on air, reckless yet safe in his strong arms and when your feet finally hit the porch, you were loath to be released. You turned around to face him and slid your arms about his neck. The force of his kiss surprised you, and you clung tighter to him, opening your mouth to take all of him in. Henry pulled you against him and walked backwards towards the cabin door. 

You cried out with delight when he crouched and swept you up into his arms. Just like the charming prince he touted himself to be. 

‘I love this,’ you murmured, nipping at his lower lip and then suckling it between your own. ‘Why don’t you fuck me in your bed.’

‘Fuck,’ he groaned and clutched you to his chest. ‘You’re gonna drive me crazy, baby.’ 

‘I promise I’ll drive you crazy.’ 

Henry didn’t waste time in carrying you to the small bedroom at the end of the hall.  

His room was clean, and quiet. Not as fancy as the master bedroom, but it was  enough with its bed and bureau and the small adjoining shower. Aika, who had been napping on the floor at the foot of the bed perked up and cautiously thumped her tail as if wondering why the hell the two humans were making so much noise. 

‘Aika,’ said Henry desperately. ‘Out!’

With a groan of a petulant child, the dog heaved herself up and reluctantly left the room. Henry booted the door shut behind her and then set you down onto your feet. There was enough gloaming light coming in through the windows for you to see him grin. 

He cupped your face between his hands and kissed you gently, thoroughly and then let his fingers trail down over your shoulders, your arms and then across your waist where he curled his fingers beneath the hem of your baggy tee shirt. Instinctively you raised your arms when he lifted the shirt up and over your head. He tossed the shirt onto the chair in the corner. He then  turned you around and unhooked your bra which was also tossed to join the shirt. And still keeping your back to him, he kissed your shoulder and then the other and then kissed the space between them. The light scratch of his beard on such an unexpectedly tender place made you shiver and your nipples harden. He hummed quietly, a sound of absolute satisfaction and he nipped you lightly where your shoulder sloped down to your collarbone. You sighed voluptuously and leaned into his muscular chest, turning your upper body slightly and reaching back to smooth your hand over his head. 

Henry slipped his hands up from your waist and cupped your bare breasts and kissed you deeply as if trying to drink in every bit of you. You felt utterly possessed, and helpless in the face of his overwhelmingly masculine sexual power. You would give him everything, anything and all he had to do was ask. 

He slid his hands down your belly again and into the elastic waistband of your shorts. He eased them over your hips and chased your curves to the warm, velvety space between your legs. Highly aware of his two thick fingers beginning to work into your wetness you arched and moaned breathlessly, your voice rising sweetly into the warmth of the room. A dark knowing chuckle rumbled behind you and Henry dragged his tongue across your lower lip. 

All of your attention narrowed to that single delicious focal point of those deft fingers stroking your quivering clit and sliding deeper inside you. 

‘I want you,’ Henry murmured and the demand behind his words made you shudder. ‘I want you so bad.’ 

Yes, you thought. I want you. The moment I met you, I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.

You turned in his arms and a wave of lust crashed over you at the sight of him. He slipped those two previous busy fingers into his mouth and sucked off your juice. You crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer as you backed towards the bed. Henry whipped off his shirt and took his time unbuckling his belt and shoving down his jeans until he could stand beautifully naked before you, his thick beautiful cock hard and standing at the ready. 

You were ready for him indeed. Henry closed the space between you and grabbing you about the waist, he hoisted you up and sprawled you messily across the bed. You sat up, reached for him and dragged him down atop you. He was heavy, and pressed you steadily into the soft sheets and you never wanted to escape him. Henry kissed you hard, punishingly, muffling your sudden cry of pleasure with his mouth. You hugged and kissed him and swore under your breath, eager for the soft velvety feel of his  blood-hot cock sliding up along your inner thigh. 

‘Come inside me, Henry.’ 

It was all the invitation he needed. 

The newness of him sliding into you hurt just a little, a small but  welcomed reminder of what it meant when two lovers finally joined. Henry stilled then, and breathed quietly, as if fighting his urge to cum. You stroked his shoulders and kissed his face, encouraging him to focus only on you. He lifted his head and held your gaze as he rocked up into you again, then again, slowly and deliberately, stoking that fire smouldering between the two of you. You arched against him, vaguely aware of your own lusty sounds and Henry increased the intensity of his thrusts and in turn heightened the ferocity of your pleasure.

Henry lit your fuse and it consumed you. It crackled over your sensitive flesh and along every nerve ending and you responded eagerly to every slow drag of his cock in and out of you.  He made you feel alive, more alive than ever before and at the moment of your orgasm you closed your eyes and let his name escape your lips, offering it up as a prayer, as praise. As thanks. 

You held onto him when he finally completed the circuit and poured himself inside you. 

It took several moments of panting beneath him before Henry moved off of you and you immediately felt the loss. So you lay there, sweat cooling on your skin and basking in the warm feelings of well being. When your senses returned, you got up and went to the bathroom for  a quick pee and wash up and when you returned, the bed was turned down and you crawled gratefully beneath the soft sheets. 

‘That was fucking amazing,’ you murmured to the man next to you. ‘That was the best sex I have ever had.’ 

Henry chuckled and sounded pleased. 

‘Yeah. I waited a long time for you.’ 

‘Oh yeah? The moment I put my hand in yours outside of the barracks, you what? Wanted to carry me off to fuck me?’

He grunted. 

‘Yeah! Something like that. I would’ve at least got your name first, /then/ put you over my shoulder and carried you off.’ 

You smiled to yourself and imagined the scene and how shocked the men would have been to watch their stoic captain haul off the journalist for a little fun. You closed your eyes, only intending to get more comfortable to continue the conversation. However, again sleep had other ideas. 

Light burst behind your eyelids and the sound of shouting male voices filled your ears. You struggled to open your eyes, but something was holding them sealed shut. Another explosion and then the sound of rocks raining down all around you. I’m on fire, you thought, desperately trying to claw your way out of burning clothes. Your hands were already seared into talons of fused flesh and bone and there was nothing you could do to stop the pain. Sand blasted your vulnerable flesh and you opened your mouth to scream, only to be choked by tiny merciless shards of hot glass. You continued to scream and scream barely aware of the hands on your arms and the voice calling you name. It was Henry and he was shaking you out of your nightmare. 

‘You’re all right, baby. You’re all right,’ he murmured pulling you against him. ‘It’s just a nightmare. You’re all right now. I’m here.’ 

As the dream melted away, you curled up into his arms and burst into tears. Henry gentled you until you quieted and even beyond that until eventually you were able to speak. 

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry…’ 

‘Don’t be sorry, baby,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t be. I’m here. I’ll protect you.’ 

You lifted your tear wet face and kissed him. Then again and again, rolling onto your back and pulling him with you. 

‘Make love to me, Henry. Please. Make love to me.’

‘I’ll take care of you,’ he promised.

And you trusted him to do just that. 

**

The morning rain kept the two of you inside the snug cabin and in bed where you took your time exploring and delighting in the mystery of each other. 

‘Does it still hurt?’ you asked, pulling back the sheets and stroking your fingers along the thick jagged scar that cut across his lower belly.  

Henry looked down at where you were touching him and shook his head. 

‘No. Not anymore.’ 

You fell silent, listening to the rasp of your dry fingers gliding across his skin. Henry curled an arm about you when you put your head on his shoulder. 

‘You never went to talk to someone about it, did you.’ 

It wasn’t a question and as much as you wanted to feign ignorance, you couldn’t shut down your immediate and visceral reaction to his observation. 

No. You had buried yourself in work the moment you got back to the States and didn’t want to think about the trauma that had befallen you. What was the point? It was over, wasn’t it?

Henry felt your body tense and he rubbed your back. 

‘That’s why you’re still having nightmares.’ 

Your voice was small when you spoke, hoping to be heard against the lashing rain. 

‘I thought I could handle it.’ 

He chuckled. 

‘I know. I thought I could handle it too. They don’t let us go home without group therapy. I fucking hate it, but I do it, because it works.’ 

You stopped the back and forth motion of your hand and just rested it on his scar. It was the thing that drew you together, the thing that reminded him of you.

Henry turned his head and kissed your forehead. 

‘You’re so strong. And you’re carrying this weight. But you gotta let it go, baby.’  

‘I know. I… dream about you dying in the explosion and then burning to death. I can’t stop it. I can’t help you.’

Henry held you close. 

‘You’re alive and I’m alive. I’m right here with you. You don’t have to worry when you’re with me.’

 You slept against his chest for most of the day and dreamed, not of violence in a desolate place but of a bright new future. 

-end part 5 you naughty little things. I love you ;D Please consider helping me to broaden my audience by reblogging this fic and sharing. Thank you. 

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