#gonna pile all my stuffies and shit

[bulldog-geckorahhhhh]

I need to make a nest. I gotta. Make nest

[milkypompon]

Chapter 3 | Pick Up

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

this chapter: you finally receive a phone call...?

content: Mentions of Marc's past, plotty plot plot

wc: 2k+

a/n: I'm exploring the dynamic between the moon boys! Specifically on Steven and Jake's understanding of the system.

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

–

Take it out of that pile of shit, Stevie. 

“I won’t.”

Ay, do it before I sit your ass to the back. 

Steven stares into the rubbish, listening to Jake’s half-hearted threats. 

It didn’t matter if he tossed it into a trash compactor and cast it into the open sea, they both memorized the number on the cup. 

How else could they have survived as Khonshu’s avatar? 

The god spouted astronomical coordinate systems during missions, instead of cardinal directions. It was disrespectful of his domain to merely water down the night sky into four words or their combinations, according to the squawking bird. 

Regardless, no point of direction from his alter or the moon god could shift his moral compass. 

“I dare you, mate.” 

Jake grumbles under his breath. 

Neither of them liked to tug on the string that forced control over the body. They wouldn’t be any better than Khonshu rattling his wrapped talons over their lifeforce — a puppet at the hands of its master. 

We’re allowed to live our own lives. Isn’t that what you wanted?

“This isn’t just about me anymore. Or just you for that matter.”

Once, Steven wanted nothing more than to free himself of the sleep-deprived nights and taste a drip of normalcy. He thought the only way to do that was to overcome whatever was going on in his head.

Egypt.

Khonshu.

The happenings in the Duat with Marc and Jake.

But now, his life, their life was more than that.

Steven was more than elated to discover support from a place he couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

Finding a way for each of them to front was a balancing act through understanding. It isn’t created by compartmentalizing the week into color-coded days or agreeing to a first come first serve basis. Their system was far from perfect, but it was their’s. 

Restraint was the seed of their problems, among other things, but the anxiousness of being confined (like they were in the sarcophagus) was something they couldn’t stomach. 

An attempt to claw himself out would forego the delicate trust built on an unsteady foundation.

No more lies.

No more secrets. 

And definitely, no more double duties.

“Besides, you said it yourself. We should live our own life. If either of us rings up the barista, despite all her loveliness, you’d be pretending to be Marc.”

Jake knew what was coming next. Don’t tell that story again–

Steven turns up his nose toward the reflection on the toaster. “Need I remind you, the last time you filled in my shoes, I ended up at a steakhouse for a date?”

You’re never gonna let me live that down, eh? At least it got you outta the stuffy museum for the night. 

“Hmph, I’m never take dating advice from you, no matter how desperate I get.”

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. 

How about you take those pretty little fingers and pick up that damn cup! And use your other set of five to press the numbers into your phone. 

Jake tended to spear-head ways to bring the out of their shell, it stemmed from years of hiding away. His actions came from good intentions, though the sentiments among the three weren’t always shared. 

“Not gonna be late for my first day, you twat.”

Steven tugs the handles of the trash bag into a neat bow, double-knotting it to emphasize the point. 

He chews the inside of his cheek. It’s been a day, but he still couldn’t feel Marc’s presence after retreating into the recesses of their mind. He’d be lying to himself if he said that things were a little easier this time around.

Despite going through hell and back (almost quite literally), maybe there would be a shared bonding experience that would lead them on the right track. But it always seemed like something veered them a little bit off-center. This time it wasn't a life-threatening mission...

Steven shrugs on his jacket and tinkers with the doorknob.

–

Since the last time Steven worked at the gift shop, he swears the British Museum didn’t sell the stone statues of the Ennead. (He wonders what else popped up during his absence). At least nine deities are behind the display case, instead of the misprinted eight on the poster.

How the toymakers laid their hands on strangely accurate models of the ushabtis is beyond him. It isn’t his problem anymore, the days of working inventory are over.

Whoever is responsible for the new figurines must be the same person who sorted out his new job. After the loo and jackal incident, he swore up and down that he blew the opportunity to become a tour guide.

He shoulders his bag and heads to the information desk, where a familiar blond sifts through papers.

Steven clears his throat. “Morning, Donna!”

“Stevie.” She peers up, a strained smile splitting her face, and hands him his nametag. 

It doesn’t matter if she calls him the wrong name, nothing could take away the bubbling joy in his heart. He holds it in his two hands as if cradling a duckling. 

Steven marvels at it briefly and smiles, noticing the engraved designs. He runs his thumb over it.

A scarab and a moon. 

Layla must’ve put a good word in for him before she left for Egypt.

He clips it onto his breast pocket.

Steven Grant Tour Guide

Donna pipes up, “After you’re done ogling, group A is waiting up front. Speak up a bit for that bunch. Mostly grandparents looking for a day out.”

Steven weaves between visitors meandering through the halls before standing in front of about ten people. A few wandering eyes behind a pair of thick glasses are already looking past him and at the exhibit. Others are fidgeting with their canes. 

“Hiya, there everyone! I’m Steven with V and’ll be your tour guide for the day.” He claps his hands with a bright smile. 

Steven walks backward to face the group while explaining each artifact with animated hand gestures and fluctuating voice impressions. There are tidbits of information he sprinkles in pulled from personal encounters with the gods. But, he skirts around how the unfriendly croc wanted to consume the souls of the living. 

The tour ends in a little under an hour, leaving enough wiggle room for a q and a portion. He rounds them up in front of a sectioned-off hall where they are free to discuss the pieces without the usual prattling of sugar-infested children. 

“Anything you’d like to know more about off the top of your noggin?” 

A shaky hand raises, a paper bracelet decorating the granny’s wrist. 

People rarely asked questions, so Steven beams at the prospect of going off into another tangent with someone as captivated as he is in Egyptology. 

“Yes, please! Go ahead.”

She smiles curiously and points to the unopened area of the museum. “What’s in there?”

“Ah, your guess is as good as mine. It’s my first day here so the curators haven’t filled me in on what’s going.”

“Could we take a peek?”

The hall isn’t open to the public for various reasons – there are fragile steles, brittle canopic jars, and parchment that resemble closer to dust than paper. Still, it tickled his fancy to be one of the first few people to check out the unearthed pieces.  

He scratches the back of his neck. “The guided tour has ended, but feel free to stick around with me and the missus here if you’d like to look in.”

The group is seemingly uninterested, except for her. They disperse with an appreciative nod and head toward the exit. 

“Well, aren’t you a sponge for knowledge!” Steven unclips the rope from the pole and ushers her inside. “Watch your step, might be bits and pieces of packing stuffs.”

Wooden crates line the walls along the respective categories of tools, ceremonial weapons, and non-utilitarian objects. The last are Steven’s particular favorite.

His eyes land on a slab of stone with carefully carved hieroglyphs. “This poem is dedicated to Hathor, the Goddess of Love. How lovely!”

It’s set inside a glass case, Marc stares back at him on the reflection with a slight frown, but it isn’t directed toward him. 

Her hand sidles up to the barrier, Steven glances at the strip of paper around her wrist… it’s a hospital bracelet. 

“Can the other two read this like you can?” 

Steven’s mouth gapes open and before he can reply she recites the hieroglyphs to his (and Marc’s) surprise. 

One plus one Equals two One for me And one for you 

Frantic footsteps near them, J.B. sets the rope back in place and tuts. “Oy! That’s where you went off to. I couldn’t find you on the cams. Off you go, you two.”

Steven tucks his chin down, voice going into a low whisper. “Think the missus here got lost.” 

“What’re you going on about–” J.B.’s gaze flits over to her. 

He rolls his wrist to emphasize his point.

“Gotcha, I’ll call security. Can’t believe she’s back.”

“Back?” He whispers to himself, just barely catching J.B.’s last sentence. 

Steven adds, “Heya, no need for a big fiasco. She’s a nice one.”

–

The chime of the entrance bell hasn’t rung all morning at Coffee for Two.

You gnaw at the end of your pencil in deep contemplation. Your decision darts between opening the shop to kill the boredom or listening to Nan about joining her for a break after she was given strict doctor’s orders for bed rest. Years of baking sweets and brewing coffee weren’t easy on her knees or head for that matter. 

Either way, you were supposed to be on vacation, yet here you were working on a new bread recipe. 

You worked around the clock before she practically forced you to hit the pause button. Even with the help of your part-timer, she couldn’t hold a candle to Nan’s experience with folding dough, piping frosting, and roasting beans. 

Though sitting behind the counter were moments few and far between, you missed the daily hustle and bustle of serving the regulars who were often in pairs.

The gray hairs of a Mister and Missus would peek from the velvet couch as they dipped a biscotti into a dark roast. Or a budding romance between a young couple would lead to sharing an affogato by the wooden stools. You’d smile to yourself and throw in extra cookies for them, claiming that you miscalculated the measurements and made more than usual.

You aren’t a stranger to the coffee shop meet-cute. It happens often enough to warrant the thought of writing a collection of romance novels. 

Between work… and work, there wasn’t much time to do anything else.

The tangents meet when Marc showed up. 

At the right moment and time.

You flinch when your phone plays a jingle, fumbling to grab it and pressing the green button.

“Hello?”

– 

When you prayed to any god listening about receiving a call out of sheer boredom, you didn’t expect a call from the Royal London Hospital. You gripped your phone waiting for the nurse’s message.

“This is the number we had on file in case of emergencies.”

“Yeah, yes. That’s me, I’m her granddaughter.”

“We’d like to inform you that she’s left the premises… again”

“Left the– Bloody hell! You could’ve started with that! You would think after the first time, you’d keep a closer eye on her, eh?” You accidentally bite your tongue after hurtling word after word at the nurse. 

“We’re not responsible for the patient who’s left the area. But, we–” 

“Tried?” You make your way out of the coffee shop, nudging the door close with your hip. “Yeah, like the first two times? Third time’s a fucking charm. You better hope she’s at the same place as last time.”

A call from another line intercepts your current one.

“Uh, hello, Miss!” A light voice chirps from the other side. “We’ve got a bit of a situation at the British Museum.”

You groan inwardly, she was there again. No wonder why the incoming number was familiar. (Not that you were expecting an unknown one from a particular curly-haired regular...)

“Did you find Nan?”

“If you mean the nice granny with the dangly bracelet, then it’s safe to say, yes.” 

“Did she– Is she okay?”

He chirps, “Oh yes, mhm! No need to worry, we’re sat down together.”

“Good, okay. Thank you, by the way, uh…”

“Oh bollocks, forgot to introduce myself. It’s Steven. Steven Grant.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

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[uchihaharlot]

Shsjdjdj Imagine, you want something back from Shisui that he borrowed from you, so you sneak into his room to get it, but you hear him coming so you hide in his closet, and him and Itachi come in and are just talking, and then they start making out and stuff, and your just watching from the closet, and and and and maybe they secretly know your there and fuck each other infront of you or something like that- my brain all over for this one - also yes that was all one sentence. Fight me.

Oooo. I love this. It’s no secret Shisui can be sort of inadvertently be a kleptomaniac. It’s not malicious by any means. He just is really bad at returning things to people.

NSFW; some hot ass Shisui and Itachi; read for the details.

— So when he borrowed your favorite book. You instantaneously knew that prying it from his hands would be problematic. Not in sense that he would purposely withhold your belongings.

— But his room in a fucking mess. Aside from the rest of his house; yes you absolutely tore through it—nicely of course. The last place was his bedroom. You feared for your book and your sanity on its retrieval. Aside from the empty cans of water, and the various energy drink. You couldn’t find your book.

— Even checking under his mattress, nothing. Then you heard footsteps enclosing at an alarming rate. He was supposed to be out training with Itachi, this put a wrench in your recon mission. The second they enter the room its hushed whispers, you fortunately ended up in his closet. Chakra concealed, crouched beneath a pile of sweaty ass training clothes. Mundane words of clan business between the two as usual.

— Then silence, followed by the unforgettable sound of lips touching and soft panting. More hushed whispers, but you distinctly hear Shisui say, ‘you’re gonna get it for that little number earlier.’ Your curious eyes and hands lifted at the god knows what you used to cover your face, and holy shit. The immaculate amount of arousal spread through your body was embarrassingly high. This…this was not expected, but also not surprising. Extremely welcoming though.

— Your own Uchiha show. They worked fast, Shisui lazily stroked Itachi’s cock in one hand as the other worked his own. How would Fugaku feel knowing the clan heir was getting plowed by his best friend? Surely he wouldn’t be as excited as you. It was hot, two of the most attractive men in this clan just going at one another’s throats. Sucking and nibbling each other. Then Shisui forcing Itachi to his knees and tapping his cock against eagerly parting lips. Roughly shoving it in Itachi’s mouth eliciting him to gag. It was almost unfair how good he was at it.

— You clearly had died. This was the only sane conclusion, Shisui came home and mistaken you for an intruder and killed you without it registering. But no, it wasn’t, because the sound of Shisui’s deep moaning matched the fervent mouth pace Itachi had on his cock. Your eyes did not deceive you. Yep, this was real. It was happening, no matter. Hidden in your stuffy sanctuary, this was one thing you could see to the end and if you hand ended up in your pants. It was merely a coincidence.

— Your excitement only grew as Shisui lifted Itachi to a searing kiss, pushed him on the bed and slicked an ungodly amount of lube over his length. Itachi’s desperate effort to pull his pants down was just fast enough for Shisui to breach his waiting hole. That alone had you on the verge of climax. Your own mouth almost betrayed you with a moan. You had to stop, allow the buildup to simmer down. Watched as Shisui wrung Itachi’s beautiful hair in one hand and smack his ass with the other. Hard thrusts that made Itachi moan in falsetto. Even not touching yourself you could almost cum.

— Yet, it was endearing. They had been doing this for a while, there was no way that either one weren’t familiar with each other under these circumstances. Shisui towered over Itachi’s back side. Hand expertly stroking his cock, the way Itachi and Shisui looked at one another in this moment was ethereal. And there was that damn hand of yours. Playing tribute to yourself, matching as best you could to Shisui tenderly plowing Itachi. Their loud moaning turned into soft panting. More hushed whispers, ‘I’m close’ and ‘don’t stop.’ Had you reeling in pleasure.

— The resounding groan that Shisui let out, his hips jutting. Your eyes couldn’t keep up. Itachi milked by Shisui’s hand as his thrusts tapered and eventually stopped. The heat of your own climax felt dirty, but why should you care? It wasn’t like they heard you. Or saw you.

— A snug grin spread Shisui’s mouth. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.” Which, to your surprise. You though he was talking to Itachi. But when he looked behind him, it seemed that Itachi was as just as perplexed as you were.

— It was comical to at you tried to cover yourself in his smelly clothes again. Shisui wasn’t having any of it, opening the closet doors. A bewildered Itachi in the background, Shisui more amused than anything. “Next time, you’ll join us.”

— “Uh.” Where was that stupid mouth of yours when you needed it? “I came for my book.” Shisui didn’t doh t that, you were stingy with your belongings. It wasn’t his laugh that made your stomach disappear, but rather when he said. “I gave that back to you two weeks ago.”

— “Oh. Really?” Yea; you did. You hounded him for it. You usually didn’t forget these things; but there had been so much going on you forgot about it. “My bad.”

— It was a good thing Shisui was so chill. Helped you up and spun you around into the center of his room. Itachi was less than pleased that you had seen one of his darkest secrets. He was more irate with Shisui for knowing you had been there all along.

— “You owe me.” Itachi slapped his back, Shisui snickers. “You owe Itachi too.” Which wasn’t what he was getting at. “Don’t go too far after tomorrows training.”

— With that you nodded silently and made you way out the window.

[crusty-chronicles]

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib Reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 10: Into The Thick Of It

Synopsis: Congratulations, you've just entered the NGL!!!! A place of isolation and now Chimera Ants 😃 Your first task, try not to break down and snap with all the bodies you come across. Good luck and may you keep your promises🤝

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

You weren't too happy to say the least. Once again, you had all piled into a jeep that was much too small for the amount of people riding in it. Smooshed in the front with Kite and the driver while the others were elbow to elbow in the back.

On the bright side, you didn't have to worry about being drooled on. But you did have to deal with two very pouty boys who weren't happy about the new seating arrangement.

"Why can't one of us just sit on your lap?" Gon suggested.

"Kid, I'm not a chair. And it's stuffy already with just three of us in the front. No way in hell I'm having another person next to me and one more on my lap." You were quick to shoot the idea down.

"Then sit in the back with us." Killua said, scooching over to make room.

But there was no way you were gonna sit in the back with four more people.

Nope.

Not in this heat.

"You two can last one car ride without me. You're big boys, aren't you?"

A huff of irritation from the small assassin and a grumble from the boy in green.

To your surprise, a certain silver haired hunter decided to join in on the banter.

"Don't worry. I promise to take good care of them up here for you."

And the small, offended gasps from the two of them was enough to make you laugh. A bit of peace before the inevitable descent into the NGL.

So pouty and upset, they begrudgingly sat in the back. Not without making sure to poke you every now and then, just to get you to turn around.

The ride itself wasn't too bad with the driver making idle conversation.

"You heading to the NGL, huh? You know they believe that the best way to live is as naturally as possible."

Ah yes, you all totally didn't do any research whatsoever before coming here.

You really shouldn't give him any shit for that. He was just trying to help fill the silence. It's not like many people visited this place anyways. So to him, it was probably strange to see ten people asking to go all at once.

"They're pretty weird for living out there, but you folks are even weirder for wanting to visit em'."

Before you could question him on that, he continued on.

"I don't have a clue what's going on there, but I've already driven in about 10 big groups just like you guys today alone."

Perhaps more hunters who heard the news of a giant Chimera Ant? Still, ten groups of people? It was strange.

"Did you say ten?!?" Gon exclaimed, popping up from his seat behind you.

"That's right," the driver confirmed.

You, however, were a little concerned with something else.

"Seatbelt!" You scolded.

"Oh, right! Sorry." A small 'click' sounded off.

God, you really were starting to sound like a parent. What were you, Safety Sal? You really should stop babying them.

"So if most of the other groups are already arriving, then we're among the last." Kite noted, effectively snapping you from your thoughts.

"At least we'll have some help," you mumbled.

Oh how wrong you were.

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

They weren't kidding about the nature part. The entrance to the NGL itself was a pathway between two giant trees. You could sense people moving about inside them. A river separating the two territories.

A beautiful sight if you had to say. But there was that nagging feeling reminding you of how strict these people could be. Well, the government they had.

"Prepare yourselves everyone," Kite warned.

"The ants are a concern, but the NGL isn't the eco-friendly group it claims to be."

Right, the drugs. And where there were illegal drugs, there were probably illegal crime bosses. Thank goodness you didn't have to deal with that type of hell growing up.

Approaching the first tree, you already didn't like the men that greeted your group there. Smiles fake and disingenuous. Auras gross with deceit and annoyance.

"May I ask what brings you here?" Defensive too. About their people or secrets, you couldn't tell.

"We're on a hunt." Kite stated before continuing.

"A biohazard-class insect might have infiltrated your country."

The man let out a hum before answering.

"Well, if you're professional hunters, I'm certain you're aware that we cannot deny you entry into our land."

Ah yes. You were all totally hunters. Yup. Each and every one of you. Bonafide hunters.

You thanked whatever greater being was up there that nobody had outed you.

"Right this way." One of the men turned around and led your group in.

Like you expected, the Big Wigs in charge didn't enforce their rules onto themselves. Inside were various people typing away on computers. And if you had to guess why, it was most likely due to a loophole.

"Wait, you're using computers and machines here?" Killua confronted.

"We are not technically within the bounds of the NGL proper yet." One of the men answered.

And there it was. Five seconds and you already decided you despised this place.

"This area is used for diplomacy and trading information."

Diplomacy???? Didn't they communicate through letters??? And what other country would they be feuding with to need diplomacy? Weren't they isolated?

One look at this guy's aura and you could tell he was lying. Still, it would do nobody any good to call out their hypocrisy. You'd just have to suck it up and let it go.

"I see. Are there similar facilities within?" Kite questioned.

"No sir, not a single one. No machines of any kind are allowed inside the borders of the NGL." One of the guys answered.

"Of course, visitors aren't allowed to bring technology in with them either. We're very strict about that kind of thing." Another spoke up.

Wow, it was almost like they killed someone over that exact thing. Who would've thought?

God you hated primitive societies. Your respect was dwindling by the seconds.

"Which means you must remove metals, petroleum derived materials, and the like. Anything of that nature on your person before you can enter." The same man informed.

So long shitty sneakers and hello paper thin shoes.

"D-d-do you mean l-like my glasses!?!" Lin asked.

A shit eating grin on the man's face. Like he was purposely trying to get rid of as much people as he could with technicalities.

"That's right. If your clothes, belts, shoes, even your underwear contain any plastic, chemicals, or metal, you must remove them." He said eyeing the two girls.

"That isn't funny!" Spin snapped.

"You want us to strip naked!?!"

You stood protectively in front of the boys, sending a glare towards the man. Would you kill him depending on his answer?

Yes, yes you would.

"That's not necessary. All-natural clothing is available for purchase just upstairs." He said pointing to a small staircase.

You should have guessed they would've been money hungry. How else would they be able to afford all this nice stuff while their people suffered beyond the bend.

"And if there are any implants inside your body, dental implants, for example, made of gold, silver, or even silicon prosthetics that cannot be removed... I'm sorry to say, but you won't be allowed to enter."

Discriminating, are we? Wow, these guys are even worse than the shit you had to put up with.

"You understand." His smile was fake, aura cocky now that the size of your group was cut in half.

You know what? Maybe you should start rooting for the ants at this point.

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

You were in a bit of a dilemma at the moment.

You'd chosen clothes that were as close to what you were currently wearing as possible. So far so good, right? Welllll, the issue was just how the hell you were going to pay for them.

Truth was, you had not a cent to your name. Not even a flimsy wallet to open and have a fly come out of. Up until now, money had never really been a point of focus. Or at least up until two years ago.

Goddamnit.

You couldn't even afford shit clothes to bypass the NGL restrictions.

Which meant....

"Guess I have to stay behind after all."

How pathetic were you.

Unable to afford a basic 'necessity'. How the hell did you plan on taking care of two kids when you couldn't even take care of yourself? It was quite frankly disgraceful.

Unbeknownst to you, curious eyes watched your internal struggle. Everyone else was ready or close to being ready, and there you were clutching a shirt looking like somebody died. Dark circles impossibly darker.

Then he heard it.

"Guess I have to stay behind after all."

It immediately put a frown on the small boy's face. Gon just couldn't wrap his head around why you would say a thing like that. You'd all agreed extensively to come, so why were you backing out?

You'd been so adamant about coming, excited even. (Which was rare.) So it didn't make any sense. At least not until you mumbled out something else.

"Maybe I should've been a hunter. Least' then I'd have a few bucks to spare. Damn."

Was that what you were worried about?

You should've just asked.

It's not a big deal anyway. It was certainly nothing to be ashamed of considering he didn't get his first phone until Leorio bought him one. And it's not like him and Killua would say no if you needed help to pay.

The three of you were supposed to stick together. Were supposed to help each other. You were the big sibling and they were the little brothers.

He may not have been as well off as Killua, but he was still a hunter with plenty of funds to spare. Especially since beating Greed Island. If you needed something, he would gladly get it for you. Just like if they needed you, you would always be there.

Before he could pitch the offer, someone else approached you. Someone who he was getting the feeling liked being in your presence as much as you did his.

And Gon wasn't sure he was okay with that yet. But he appreciated someone looking after you. Someone his own father had trusted and now you did as well.

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

"Something wrong?" A familiar voice sounded from behind you.

Realistically, you should've sensed Kite's presence. But the stress of figuring out a way to pay had distracted you from everything else going on.

"Um... No?" Your voice cracked at the end. God, even you knew you didn't sound convincing. Even if you did, Kite could see you. He knew you were hiding something, and you knew that he knew.

It took him all of five seconds to figure out what was wrong. You hadn't made a move to change into NGL appropriate clothing. You were looking down with gears turning in that head of yours. And your aura was upset with disappointment.

You were a stubborn one alright.

"Here." A card was placed in front of you.

Your tired eyes widened. What was he doing? You looked up at him, mouth open and ready to protest because wow.

You didn't like asking for help. Didn't like owing people. Didn't like how they always seemed to expect something back in return for their good deed.

"Don't worry about it. We need all the help we can get, remember?" And you were completely flabbergasted by what Kite said next.

"Don't let a few travel expenses get in your way. Plus I don't think those boys of yours would be too thrilled if you couldn't go."

A smile and a small pat to your back.

"We'll be waiting for you when you're done."

There was no ulterior motive.

He'd done it simply out of the kindness in his heart.

You were not used to that. Not used to others doing things for you. It had warmth spreading across your face and you were glad the others couldn't see you. Getting all embarrassed over something small like this. (It wasn't all that small to you)

"I'll pay you back for this one day."

You'd mumbled it to yourself, but he barely caught it as he descended down where the rest of the group was.

And like before, he wouldn't mention it. But the soft smile he had was a telltale sign he'd heard you all the same.

----------

Your group of ten had dwindled down to six. You and the boys and Kite with Podungo and Stick. Ever a growing pain in your ass, the NGL authorities ran several tests on all of you.

Past the first tree and into the second, where a lady informed the group of what was to take place.

"The inspection area is over there. Of course there's a physical exam, as well as an interview."

Sounded simple enough until she kept talking.

"Then once those are completed, there will also be X-rays, ultrasound, and metal scans."

You hated this place.

"Ultrasound? The hell are they gonna find with that. Surprise, guess who's pregnant?" Your comment was heard by the lady explaining things, who promptly laughed.

"Yes, well you'd be surprised by what we're able to pick up with that."

As long as they were just scans, you supposed it wasn't too outrageous. Now if they started poking and prodding, you'd break a machine or two.

"Security's rather tight," Kite noted.

The lady flicked on a light switch before continuing to speak.

"It is... because people have smuggled guns in by hiding the parts inside their bodies. We often find cameras or cell phones in people's rectums."

Your face scrunched up in disgust. Who the fuck was shoving a gun up their ass???

"Some have even trained animals to carry laptops across the border once they themselves were inside."

Okay now that one made more sense.

After the woman finished explaining, the testing began. Scans of your body and brain were taken. Some blood work was done, much to your dismay. And last but not least, the interview, which mainly consisted of questions about health and any possible criminal background.

It was draining, but you were somewhat glad the boys were fascinated by it. They got to have some fun despite the unusual circumstances.

"Well it looks like all of you are clean." The woman announced.

The same men from earlier were waiting by the exit as you all approached.

"Thank you all for your patience. You may enter now, and godspeed."

"Welcome to the NGL!"

The first thing you noticed was the air. It somehow felt cleaner. The second thing you noticed was the land outstretched before you. It seemed never ending. From the oaks down below to the prairie just before you. It was peaceful. Like home. (But you couldn't really call it that anymore, could you?)

Eagerly, your eyes scanned as far as they would go. So much to see with not enough time to enjoy it. No auras besides the one's next to you. Faint traces from the woodland creatures hiding away. Quiet too, but not eerily so.

Serene was the word for it.

You take it back. The NGL wasn't so bad afterall. Just the people in charge. It had you thinking back to kid with boots five sizes too big and a hand stitched shirt that was falling apart at the seams. A gap-toothed smile as they cartwheeled over an open field, laughing with another like the rest of the world wasn't there.

Your first stop in the NGL was a small barn for suitable transportation. Honestly, you should've known a monetary transaction would be involved. And yet it still surprised you.

12,000 jenny for just one horse. For one day.

You tensed up once more, trying to figure something out. You'd already wasted enough money that wasn't yours. You didn't want to waste anymore.

And yet.....

There was Kite, once again taking the brunt of the expenses.

Not because anyone asked him to.

But because he wanted to.

Justifying it with 'It's not a problem. We need a decent form of travel that won't drain us. Three should be just fine.'

It was mind boggling how nonchalant he was being about this. The same question of why. He didn't gain anything from doing this.

So why?

The same reason he had made you a real promise.

He was a good person.

You were not.

But you would try. You'd pay him back in full if it was one of the last things you ever did. He deserved that much at least.

Upon entering the stable, all of the horses trotted towards Gon and Kite. Neighing and making little content noises. Seems the part about animals liking hunters was true. It was an endearing sight, if you must say.

And that small part of your brain that liked to tease, just couldn't resist.

"Hey Snow White. Leave some horses for the rest of us, will ya?"

A light shade of red consumed Kite's face upon hearing you. The shade darkening as Stick spoke up with a 'Hahaha! I get it!' and Podungo with a 'I've never seen him this embarrassed before.'

You were going to be a distraction. (A pleasant one, albeit.)

You'd approached and lifted Gon up, helping him onto the horse that liked him the most. The other boy following close behind you.

"I'll be taking my dwarf back, thank you." Eyes crinkled with mischief and aura playful as you spoke.

"Yeah, so does that make you the wicked witch or something," Killua directed towards you while you lifted him up.

To which you responded by letting go and dropping him.

"Hey! I was kidding! Y/n don't be mad. Big siiib!"

"Don't you 'big sib' me, young man! And don't think for a second those puppy dog eyes will work on me! They're not nearly as powerful as Gon's!" You lectured with your hands on your hips. Scolding demeanor melting away at the sound of the other boy's voice.

"Please, Y/n. Help Killua." Honey colored eyes staring wide up at you. And he may or may not have done it to see if it was true.

"Gah! I hate it when you two work together against me. You little ghouls." You grumbled, lifting up the small assassin once more. Who seemed very pleased by the outcome.

It was funny in a way. How you could never really say no to Gon. It made him feel special. But he did wonder why. Did he remind you of someone you used to know?

You stared at the horse in front of you, who was already not liking you. And you didn't want to upset it further by attempting to hop on it.

"You've never ridden a horse before?"

You were once again too lost in your thoughts to notice Kite's presence. He was two for two today. In both surprising you and figuring out what was wrong.

"Course' not. Do I look like a cowboy to you?" Not only had you never ridden a horse before, you were also not the best with animals as it would seem.

"You know, I do kinda see it." A teasing grin of his own on the taller male's face. He was starting to get the hang of dealing with you and your smart aleck remarks.

"Har har. Now help me up this thing, Ranger Rick. If I try to get on by myself, I'm 80% sure it'll kill me."

"Only 80?" Kite hoisted you up, and for a split second you were surprised by his strength.

"Gotta give myself a fighting chance. I'm not a complete wimp." You gave a small pat to the top of the horse's head once you were seated.

"Could've fooled me." Kite had effortlessly climbed on behind you. The smell of pine and artificial sweetness filled your senses, the same way the scent of fresh rain filled his.

"Everyone ready!" Kite called out.

A resounding 'yes' from the five of you.

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

It was odd, what you were feeling. When you thought you'd sense a sizable amount of bloodlust, it would be gone in an instant. Making you wonder if it was even there in the first place. And just when you thought you'd managed to sense a person, the aura disappeared.

It didn't help that the NGL was so big. It didn't make things easier for you to assess. And you didn't want to sound the alarm for things that weren't there.

But you were suspicious.

Your eyes were never wrong. Your ability was never wrong. So just what the hell was happening, you couldn't be so sure. Maybe you were having an off day? The things you sensed were far away, too far for you to make an accurate assessment anyways.

Goddamnit.

At least the company was great. Stick and Podungo behind with Gon and Killua next to you. Kite seated behind you with the reins of the horse you dubbed 'Gordy.'

A very thicc boy who had warmed up to you after petting his head a few times.

There was, however, uninvited guests as well. Two 'translators' who as far as you could tell, were lying. They probably wanted to see if your group had managed to smuggle something in.

You could feel unease from Kite the deeper you descended into the NGL. He could probably sense it too. That something was off.

And while you didn't want to disrupt his train of thought, the tension radiating off of him was making your own anxieties flair. It was too early to panic and too early to worry. Nothing solid had been found yet.

So did what you had been wanting to do for a while. Now that his hands were occupied, you made a swipe at his hat, one that he didn't see coming and couldn't really stop.

"Told you I'd take it from you." Your smile was triumphant as you readjusted yourself and plopped his trademark hat on your head.

He was stunned for a second, processing what the hell just happened. Shock replacing the unease.

Did you just?

He looked down at you, noticing your smug expression as you twisted yourself to meet his eye.

"You don't play fair." He said at last.

You'd successfully distracted him once again. A bashful expression on his face.

And now that you could see him properly, an embarrassed one overtook yours as well.

Why was he so pretty?

Unawares of the thoughts going through his mind. The ones that said you looked nice with his hat falling down your face and covering your eyes. A familiar playful smirk right under them.

"Wow, pretty shady under here. I can actually see without the sun burning into my retinas. I hope you know I'm not giving this back."

A huff of amusement was heard.

"You're trouble, you know that?" He shouldn't be letting you distract him like this. He should be focusing on the current task at hand.

And yet, the playfulness from your aura kept pulling him in. Your crooked smile that was quickly becoming a favorite. That he had no idea wasn't there before.

"If I'm so bad, you would've stopped putting up with me at the airship." You did still feel a little guilty about that.

The exchange between the two of you not going unnoticed. A pair of icy eyes glancing over and frowning. Choosing to sit down properly since you hadn't noticed he was standing. Upset at the fact that your attention wasn't focused on him or Gon for once.

Killua was hesitant to let new people into his circle. He and Gon were best friends, and when that girl Ritz had tried to join, he hated it. He didn't like how easily she got along with Gon. Didn't like how he felt inferior in her presence because she was more helpful in 5 minutes than he had been the whole day.

But he was never forgotten or pushed away. Never disregarded. Only feeling insignificant because his family told him he would never have friends. That they would all leave him. But Gon had stayed.

Now there was you. You were a part of that circle now. And back at YorkNew, it was okay. You were happy in a way that was rarely seen. You'd all gotten swept away in the presence of new people. He minded a little, but let it go.

Because Killua was okay with friendship. But he was not okay with whatever this was. The cheeky smiles and blushy faces. He'd joked about it that first day you all met Kite. Teased you for it because he knew it would get on your nerves. But now that it was actually happening....

You'd forget about them if this continued. Leave them behind for him. You'd already refused to sit next to them in that car. You didn't offer to ride with them at the stable. You didn't even ask them for help when you couldn't pay. (Thanks Gon, for filling him in.)

It wasn't fair.

But he knew it wasn't really his decision to make. Wasn't really his place either. You'd already made up your mind the second you made that promise back on the airship.

Well fine. Then this guy would just have to prove himself if he was gonna take you away. And it would take a lot to impress this Zoldyck. Selfish or not, you were his big sibling. The first real one he had. The first good one. If he was being honest, you and Alluka were the only real family he had.

And the off chance you were just being friendly, that you didn't see Kite in any other way, then he'd back down. But the way you would just smile that crooked grin and tell him your secrets, said otherwise. The way Kite had started to subtly check up on you told him otherwise.

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

It'd been hours since you started the search for the Chimera Ant, but there was no luck. No sign of anything out of the ordinary. So begrudgingly, you all stopped to take a break and rethink things.

You joined Gon and Killua on the ground as they figured out alternate routes to take.

"I think we should follow along the coastline and check out all the villages. If we search them and nothing unusual turns up, then it's probably not even in this country." Gon speculated, pointing towards the map of the NGL.

It was optimistic at best to assume the ant wasn't here. Too much didn't add up for you to believe otherwise.

"Yeah, maybe. But that's assuming those guys were telling us the truth back there," Killua said in reference to the men back at the NGL border.

The ones who said they hadn't heard any news about a giant ant. The very same who said that if they had, their people wouldn't care.

Eyes fell on you for confirmation.

"They were not. But it's not like they could really do anything about the situation. Not as long as it didn't directly benefit them." You answered.

"And you didn't pick anything up?" Killua asked.

"It's hard to say and that's what worries me. Things keep appearing and disappearing. And everything I'm getting is very faint."

A beat of silence.

"They're still following us, aren't they?" Gon questioned.

The translators that had followed you here stood a little ways away from the expedition team. You thought they would've quit by now.

"Unfortunately. But try to ignore them, okay?" You gave a ruffle to his hair, feeling his mood lighten a little.

"They say they're here in case we meet unknown tribes and need interpreters or intermediaries. But they're obviously spies." Killua grumbled.

"My guess is they're hoping to catch us with technology so they can kick us out." Or execute you, but you wouldn't put that idea into their heads.

You sensed a familiar calm aura approach. You were glad you caught it this time, not wanting to be caught off guard for the third time today.

"Well I never expected the people here to be of any help," Kite admitted, catching the attention of both boys.

"But my instincts are saying... it's here somewhere." The three of you tensed at his words.

"And how accurate would you say your instincts are?" You lightly challenged. You didn't want to push, but you didn't exactly like the odds of anything that was less than certain. Not in this scenario.

"As accurate as those eyes of yours."

Damn.

You were starting to have a bad feeling about this.

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

The six of you were back traveling on a rocky path. There was nothing you could do besides continue on, hoping for a lead since Kite had been so sure.

Another flicker of aura before it disappeared. Too far to tell if you were imagining things. But a sick feeling settling in your stomach said differently.

You couldn't tell if people were being killed or knocked out. Woken up or being born. Couldn't exactly see how many there were. Your eyes were becoming strained the more you pushed, so you eventually gave up.

You leaned back onto Kite who, surprisingly, made no move to take his hat back. A part of you was satisfied by the fact. The bigger part of you, however, was concerned.

He was serious now that his suspensions were confirmed. But underneath the calm, was a festering worry. Safe to say you both felt everything was not what it seemed.

You chose to divert your attention elsewhere, for the time being. Opting to check up on the others. Gon's aura was determined as always. He was okay. Killua's was starting to radiate unease. But the leading emotion was confidence. He was okay.

Podungo and Stick were nervous, and you couldn't really blame them. From what Kite had told you, they weren't the best at combat. If you did manage to confront a Chimera Ant, things wouldn't go so well for them. However, you could feel their trust as well. Trust that was most likely directed at Kite's ability to keep them safe.

You didn't bother with the two translators tailing the group. They weren't worth the effort. They hadn't necessarily done anything wrong, but their intentions were clear as day.

You sighed and focused your tired eyes up ahead. A nap was very much needed.

'Zzzzz!'

That noise...

It was loud.

And heading right towards your group.

Your face scrunched up at the small swarm of bees. They had traces of nen on them. How bizarre. Did they belong to a Chimera Ant?

No

Not likely.

There were no traces of malice or bloodlust. Just frightened desperation.

A scared nen user?

"Stop."

Your command had everyone reaching for their horse's reins. Your tone was one that left no room for argument.

The bees in question came closer, small bundles of paper clutched in their little arms. You could feel sadness from them.

Could insects be sad?

It seemed like it as they dropped the folded paper into Kite's hand, then one in Gon's. Kite opened up the small letter in front of you.

He leaned over your shoulder to read the message, aura growing heavy with tension.

'H E L P! C H I ME R A AN T N E S T

R o C K Y AR E A

N O TI F Y H u N T ER A S S Oc I A T I On!'

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you finished reading.

It was red ink, you told yourself. Just red ink. (Pens were not allowed in the NGL)

A hand reached for yours, folding your fingers to make signs.

'Not good. Dangerous. Can you three handle it?'

You were grateful for the temporary distraction this silent conversation gave. You didn't want to dwell on the 'red ink' for much longer.

'No backing out. My boys are strong. Can handle it. Ask yourself.'

Your signs were faster, but there was a noticeable tremor with your movements. And he briefly wondered what the cause of it was. You weren't scared, were you?

Kite would leave it for now. No point in putting more stress onto whatever had you feeling that way. So, he glanced over at the two boys who were watching with keen interest at your interaction.

"It'll be risky." He warned.

"You sure you wanna come along?"

The image of a small family torn apart because of hubris. He didn't want to see that. So Kite would confirm as many times as it took until he was convinced the outcome wouldn't happen. That these boys were tough and wouldn't die. That you would be strong enough to protect them and look after yourself.

"Yeah."

"We're professionals, aren't we?"

You were right. Those boys didn't hesitate to give their answer. Resolve that almost mirrored your own in their eyes.

It would be enough, for now.

"Miss translator, I'm sorry. But we really must hurry." Kite informed one of the uninvited guests.

A small smirk made its way into your face at the implication of his words. Maybe just this once you'd show off.

"I'm sure the horses can gallop a bit faster if it's necessary." The translator offered.

"Sorry, sweetheart." You said as you dismounted from Gordy.

"I'm afraid we're gonna have to go on foot for this one. Sturdy as they are, the horses won't nearly be fast enough."

You walked over to Gon and Killua and helped them down. Both of them grinning up at you in anticipation.

You could hear Kite from behind you address Podungo and Stick. Letting them know to meet up with the rest of his team and inform the Hunter Association.

You could feel the fondness from his aura harden as he turned to face you three.

"Keep up or I'll leave you behind." Kite warned, who was surprised to see the boys already stretching.

"Yup, and right back at you." Killua said.

"Okay, I'm ready!" Gon added.

All three of you looking smug, like there was a secret just between the three of you. And there was. One that was sure to leave the silver haired hunter speechless.

You might've been a little rusty, but damnit if you weren't competitive. Especially with your little sun and moon egging you on.

"Ha! Watch it, princess. You're the one who's gonna have to keep up." Your aura was cocky.

Were you challenging him?

"Boys, what's step 3 of my ability?"

"Speed!!!!" They cheered as they finished stretching.

"Heck Yeah! So how's about I give you a head start? Let's see the progress you've both made since Greed Island!"

"I bet you'll have to use your nen this time!"

"Yeah! We won't make it easy for you to keep up!"

You crouched down to their level with a wide grin.

"Oh yeah? Tell ya what, if I can't catch up to you guys, then I'll carry you anywhere you want for a whole week."

"Deal!"

Kite watched the interaction a little flabbergasted. You were testing the boys at a time like this? No, that wasn't right. You were playing with them in a way that felt like training.

Giving incentives for them to do better.

How completely odd.

But he couldn't deny the way your interactions with the boys had him softening.

'They'll grow on you.'

Yeah. All three of you were growing on him. Ging's son, the Zoldyck boy, and their protector.

"Let's go!" Kite took off with the boys hot on his trail. But not before stealing back his signature hat while you were distracted.

You let out a protest of 'Hey!' as they shrank away from your line of sight.

Their speed was decent, but not enough to give you any real trouble. You'd have to use nen. Just a smidge though. A damn shame. You were hoping to break in a good sweat.

You'd give them five more seconds to leave your base line of vision. You crouched down in a starting position, letting nen coat your legs for the first time in months. (Thanks for that Razor)

"You're not worried about them?" Kite questioned the duo.

"About Y/n? You've got a lot to learn about them." There was pride in Killua's aura as he answered.

"They're so fast, that even Genthru couldn't land a single hit with their leg broken." Gon bragged.

Both boys seemed to light up at the thought of you. Well your prowess, more like. But there was a swell of affection in their aura as well.

They really loved you, didn't they?

Kite's thoughts were cut short by a blur zooming by. A familiar tired presence accompanying it.

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

You could smell it before you saw it. A metallic coppery stench that stopped you in your tracks. All mirth gone from your expression. Like your very soul was taken from your body.

You didn't know exactly what was beyond the clearing, but you knew it wasn't good. You expected the possibility, but you didn't expect to come across it so soon. You weren't too sure if you were prepared mentally for whatever lied ahead.

You could sense three familiar auras approach, having caught up at last. Temporarily unaware of the sight they were about to see.

"Ah damnit, they beat us here!" Killua whined.

"I thought we really had them this ti- Y/n? Are you okay?" Concern quickly replacing the bright expression on Gon's face.

Your demeanor was stiff. Head hanging low and hands clenched. You didn't say anything, just pointed forwards.

What could you even say?

It was then that the scent of blood finally reached their noses. Kite was the first to enter the clearing, not wanting to waste anymore time if it was the worst-case scenario.

Killua was second, casting a regretful glance towards you before he left. There was nothing he could do that would make things easier for you.

Gon was the last, not wanting to leave you by yourself in case something happened. Your limits were understood and respected. He wouldn't push you to see if you didn't want to. And if you needed a moment to gather yourself before heading forwards, then you would have it. So he waited a little longer before Killua called out to him.

Disgust, shock, and anger.

Very different reactions you were sensing from each of them. Seems you were right to hang back. And yet, there was this nagging feeling telling you this wasn't right. You shouldn't be sitting back like a coward.

You had a job to do: track down the ants.

And no matter what, you had to follow through. You didn't want to be a burden. Didn't want to hold anyone back. There were temporary solutions to your little problem that would be wise to exploit right about now.

So you closed your eyes as you stepped forward, heading where the scent of blood was strongest.

You were used to the dark. Senses attuned to navigate it. And it wasn't like you would be completely lost, so long as you could sense the aura of the others. It would be enough to lead you for now.

"This is a bullet casing." You recognized the voice as Killua's.

"But I thought anything mechanical was forbidden here, isn't it?" It was Gon who spoke up next, aura radiating anger.

"Just because it's forbidden, doesn't mean it's impossible for things like this to exist here." Your tense demeanor hadn't changed, but you were there nonetheless. The feeling of eyes on you as you emerged from the underbrush.

"And it means the underground rulers of the NGL weren't only manufacturing drugs, but weapons." Kite confirmed.

The swirl of anger only increased in Gon's aura at the news. Seems you weren't the only one who hated the NGL.

"Hey, Killua. Give the bullet here for a sec."

You rarely called him and Gon by their names. Which meant.... Things must've been a lot worse than he thought.

He placed the casing in your outstretched palm. Your fingers traced around it, the tension on your face changing into shock.

"An automatic?!?" Not good. Horrific in fact if an ant had been the one wielding it.

"You're able to tell what gun it was?" Killua asked.

"I used to know a guy whose ability was a bullet that never missed. My best friend actually. Safe to say I know what I'm talking about. I'd give a visualization, but..."

"It's fine." You were doing what you could, so he and Gon would do what you couldn't.

You crouched down towards what you assumed was a puddle of blood. You activated your nen and placed your hand on top of what you realized was a lot more liquid than you were expecting.

It was just water. It was just water. It was just water.

Warm water that had been out in the sun for a while.

Water that stuck to your skin and stained it red.

Just water.

"Whoever this was stood no chance. If they were even human." You noted.

"Yeah but, judging by this...." Killua trailed off. Unease taking over the previous confidence.

"This wasn't a human's doing. Most likely, it was a Chimera Ant." Kite's words left no room for doubt.

Great. Now you had to deal with coked up ants wielding weapons. Just fantastic.

"If my instincts are correct and the Chimera Ants are using firearms now.... I hate to say it, but it's possible the NGL'S underground rulers have already been fed to the queen."

Fed?

It was then that everything clicked for you. Everything you'd been picking up wasn't a strange coincidence.

"So my senses weren't off then."

"You mean the things disappearing and reappearing, right?" The anger from Gon was slowly dissipating, but still very much there.

"Yeah. People have been dying...And the Chimera Ants have been rapidly reproducing. If we don't pick up the pace, things are going to get worse for everyone." With that said, you made a small circle with your unoccupied hand, coating the space with your nen.

You wouldn't be able to stare head on at what happened here, but someone else could.

"Kite, let's confirm those suspicions here and now. Be my eyes for a bit and tell me what you're able to deduce."

It wasn't that you didn't trust the boys, but Kite had the most experience out of the two of them. He would be able to pick up on things they wouldn't have. And right now, you needed to be as precise as possible. No more messing around.

You felt a hand guide your wrist upwards. The disgusts from Kite's aura doubling at what he saw through your little spy glass.

Your ability had highlighted the scene in a way that felt more horrific than the carnage already there.

Small fragments of bone and bullet casings hidden away by the blood. Traces of saliva with a faint feeling of bloodlust. The most notable was a trail of dried bloody footprints leading away from the site.

Footprints that weren't human.

Your ability was proving to be more precise than his En. Whoever had trained you did a hell of a job. It was only a matter of how long you'd be able to hang on with your hemophobia. (Which wasn't hard to deduce from your reaction towards both the note and sight in front of you.)

He let go of your wrist, you and the boys waiting for his assessment.

"What'd you get?" You asked wiping your bloodied hand on your slacks. The nen you summoned long gone.

There was no beating around the bush. The ants were here, and they'd already begun consuming humans. Inheriting their brutality from the Underground rulers.

What was it you said?

If the ants had complex human thoughts, it'd be a lot harder to track them down?

"This will be an unprecedented biohazard."

All of you would have to be on guard.

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

Fun Fact #12: Y/n's favorite animal is the capybara.

MASTERLIST

Tage: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao

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

An: Originally, this chapter was gonna go all the way to the dreaded episode 86, but something happened and I'm going to need to take a short break from writing. So I figured I'd give y'all a shorter version of what I had planned. I'll only be gone for just a few weeks until I can sort myself out, then I'll be back stronger 💪💪 I just don't want to force myself to write and it doesn't come out good. So for now-

TEMPORARY HIATUS

[taiyaki-translations]

Autumn Cafeteria - Fall for All 8

Season: Autumn Characters: Shu, Tsumugi, Tsukasa, Koga, Yuta Translator: taiyaki-translations Proofreader: raspberrytls

<On the day of the PV Shoot>

Koga: (Hm? Looks like no one else has finished changin’ yet.)

(They’re busy preparin’ equipment inside the store, so I guess I’ll wait out here.)

Ah shit, I’m not used to havin’ my necktie on so tight~

This outfit’s so stuffy. Didn’t Itsuki-senpai say they’re s’posed to be easier to move in?

Mm~... I had to come in early, so I’m sleepy. Yaaawn—

Fuhgwah!?

Somethin’ went into my mouth, blegh, blegh!

A ginkgo leaf? That gave me a shock~ They’re startin’ to fall everywhere. 

…Come to think of it, before I got changed, I saw the staff members sweepin’ them up with bamboo brooms.

I got nothin’ better to do, so I might as well clean ‘em up ‘til the others arrive. 

Tsukasa: (...Fufu. the “Stylist” complimented me on how well dressed I look in this outfit.)

(Even if they’re just being polite, I’m still happy to be complimented…♪)

(...Hm? Who’s that over there…?)

Good morning, Oogami-senpai. Why are you cleaning?

Koga: I’ve got time on my hands. If you got nothin’ better to do, help me out, won'tcha.  The leaves keep fallin’ one after another. 

Tsukasa: It’s the season of falling leaves, isn’t it? There will be no end to them, so there’s no need to sweep them up?

Koga: Hah? If no one cleans ‘em up, the piles just gonna keep growin’— It’s annoying when the place you’ve worked hard to clean gets dirty again.

Tch, just as I said that, more are fallin’ down. Hey, hurry up and grab a broom.

Tsukasa: A…Ah, understood. So this is the job of a servant…

Koga: It’s just like at your parent’s house, right? Think of it as a life skill.

By the way, do ya know how to use a bamboo broom? Have ya seen one before?

Tsukasa: The Suou family is a traditional military family, so I’m familiar with them. Since I was a child, I’ve watched the servants sweep the gardens with these kinds of brooms.

Koga: So that’s how it is. It’s what I’d expect from a “young master”... You’re holding the broom wrong.

Tsukasa: Um…? Are my hands in the wrong position?

Koga: Nah, I’m talkin’ about the bristles. If you keep sweepin’ in one direction, only that one side of the broom will wear down. (1)

You gotta turn it every once in a while.

Tsukasa: I see, thank you for your advice.

Koga: You take care of the front, I’m gonna work on the bicycle parking lot.

…Hm?

Yuta: ♪~♪~♪

…And voila ♪

Koga: Yuta, c’mon, you sweep too.

Yuta: Ah, Oogami-senpai. Take a look at my fallen leaf art…✩

Koga: Did ya make a fox with the yellow and brown leaves? Not bad ♪

…Wait, yer just playin’ around while I’m tryin’ to clean~!

Yuta: Isn’t it fine~? Senpai is just cleaning to kill time anyway ♪

Koga: ……..

Yuta: Uwah! You swept it up in the dustpan!?

Koga: Shut it~ So noisy.

Yuta: How horrible, why did you do that?!

Koga: Hmph, I’m just puttin’ trash where it belongs, in the trashcan.

Yuta: It’s not trash, it’s art!

If that’s the case, I’ll just make fallen leaf art faster than you can sweep them away!

Tsukasa: (Now that I have finished sweeping the area I was assigned, I want to ask for more instructions.)

(But they seem engaged in their conversation, so it’s hard to interject… Ah, the leaves are starting to fall again.) 

(I didn’t notice because I was focused on the ground; the combination of the yellow ginkgo leaves against the blue sky is a beautiful sight.)

(...Should I take a photo and share it in the “Knights” group chat?)

(Usually I send work information, but I just get bored, negative comments. Though that is what it’s supposed to be used for.)

(Focus—)

Shu: …Did you get some good shots?

Tsukasa: Itsuki-senpai, Aoba-senpai, hello.

Tsumugi: Good morning. Ah, it looks like everyone aside from us is already here~

Shu: “Us”? The timing of us leaving the waiting room just happened to coincide, so don't lump us together.

It seems the production side is ready, so filming will start soon. Are you ready?

Tsukasa: Yes!

…Uh, where is Onee-sama? I heard she will be here for today’s shoot.

Tsumugi: She’ll be late because something came up at work suddenly. She’ll meet up with us in the afternoon.

Tsukasa: The afternoon, huh… No, she’s busy so it can’t be helped.

Tsumugi: Yeah. Let’s proceed with the shoot smoothly and give Anzu-chan a nice surprise…♪

Koga: 『♪〜♪〜♪』

(...Although it’s a straight method of attack for an idol, I didn’t expect to be singin’ and dancin’ for a café.)

(But I guess this is the right way to do it. If ES is involved, the public’s attention will increase ‘n the café will prosper.)

(Though I came this far ‘cause Yuta convinced me…)

(While workin’ on this project, I also started to grow attached to this place.)

(I’ve seen how sad people are after losin’ places important to them. I don’t think it should just be someone else’s problem to deal with.)

(I should also earnestly do my best to help out…♪)

Yuta: 『♪〜♪〜.......』

(It was fun developing desserts that aren’t too sweet~)

(Though the “Super Spicy Anmitsu” (2) was rejected because it seemed like it would mess up people’s taste buds ♪)

(I want this café to be a place where people like me, who aren’t a fan of sweets, can freely stop by.)

(...Oh. I just got an idea for a new menu item. I’ll talk to the owner about it later.)

Tsukasa: (...When the owner told me business wasn’t doing well, I thought it was for the best that we close the café and convert this area into a parking lot or convenience store, but…)

(I’m glad my seniors intervened. I would have destroyed this space—along with the happiness of the people who love this café.) 

(I shouldn’t just view this place as a piece of land that the Suou own. Let’s get to know it, cherish it, and protect it.)

(I’ll do so as the head of the family, responsible for the future of the Suou clan…)

『♪〜♪〜♪』

Translation Notes: 1. Here's an illustration of how you would hold a bamboo broom.  2. Anmitsu (あんみつ) is a popular Japanese-style parfait that’s usually eaten in the summer. It consists of cubes of agar agar jelly, red bean paste, mochi, fruits, ice cream and boiled red beans.

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[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, John Egbert, Jade Harley

Act 6, page 6302-6323

DAVE: so weird being back here

DAVE: cant believe how long ago it feels since i lived in this place

DAVE: spent way too long wallowing in our own filth on that gnarly meteor thats for sure

DAVE: this doesnt even seem like my room anymore

DAVE: its like trespassing or something like im horning in on somebody elses life

DAVE: a life lived most sweetly though i will admit

DAVE: ahahaha the fuckin toilets still there

DAVE: i remember when jade put that there that is perhaps like my favorite memory

DAVE: wish jade wasnt crazy just makes me remember how much i miss not crazy jade

DAVE: or less crazy jade

DAVE: wait

DAVE: didnt karkat once say terezi ripped a troll toilet out of his house

DAVE: what is with girls and their universally constant tendency to rip out plumbing fixtures

DAVE: did i just accidentally crack another cosmic riddle or

DAVE: i gotta txt him and get confirmation on this asap

DAVE: actually nah

DAVE: i probably harangued the poor guy with enough of my bs the last few years

DAVE: ill just keep shufflin thru memory lane making wistful observations out loud

DAVE: you know it kinda chaps my bulge that people rip on me for talking to myself

DAVE: its like the most perfectly natural thing to do

DAVE: why are people so up tight about keepin a lid on their monologues what a bunch of stuffy pricks

DAVE: ive always found the sound of my own voice to be mysteriously soothing

DAVE: haha talk about an embarrassing sentence to say in earshot of an actual person

DAVE: well maybe not the mayor

DAVE: you can always tell the mayor anything <3

DAVE: hahaha this piece of shit is still here too

DAVE: didnt we use this thing like ONCE

DAVE: what a useless pile of trash in hindsight

DAVE: sometimes i think this game was designed by an idiot

DAVE: wasnt it called like

DAVE: the laserbeam intellivision or something

DAVE: id throw it in the lava but that would be a waste of melting

DAVE: oh yeah

DAVE: almost forgot about my ill beats from the past

DAVE: i wonder if theyre as ill as i remember

DAVE: ok i just pushed some buttons and verified they remain as ill as the day they were dropped

DAVE: ill have to send them to karkat he has always been an enthusiastic patron of my exceptional science

DAVE: i mean sure he says it sucks and maybe he even believes that on some pathetic sub intellectual plane of consciousness which gross philistines operate on their whole lives

DAVE: but whenever he gets a load of my hype

DAVE: i see him there

DAVE: tapping his foot ever so slightly

DAVE: i see him

DAVE: this poster...

DAVE: love this poster

DAVE: its like an old friend

DAVE: never even knew who these guys were or what their deal was

DAVE: never gave it much thought i guess

DAVE: doubt ill ever find out at this point

DAVE: oh well

DAVE: some things i guess were never meant to be figured out

DAVE: or benefit from any kind of elaboration

DAVE: not even years later

DAVE: just the way it is sometimes

DAVE: its like ive said before

DAVE: this poster is a hell of a mystery

DAVE: that i never even thought was a mystery

DAVE: and it would be pretty cool if somebody solved it

DAVE: but damn if thats ever gonna happen

DAVE: so thats a shame

DAVE: aw hell its my old dead things collection

DAVE: what a stupid blast from the past

DAVE: i seriously cannot remember if i was sincere with this shit

DAVE: i was probably trying to flex my underdeveloped irony muscles

DAVE: like the shrimpiest kid at the hipster gym

DAVE: why does my childhood room have to be such a predictable museum of embarrassments

DAVE: i dont know

DAVE: some of these things are kind of cool actually

DAVE: like from a standpoint of objective reevaluation afforded by the sobering maturity that comes with being literally 100% grown up now

DAVE: dead things are actually pretty rad

DAVE: i feel like if i was legitmately into all this then more should have come of the interest

DAVE: like there could have been like

DAVE: entire CONVERSATIONS about it that never even took place

DAVE: hey rose youll never guess what im excited about and have loads of dialogue to spill over

DAVE: whats that dave

DAVE: ancient mollusks

DAVE: hmmmmmmmm said rose

DAVE: how many bananas do you think this paw clutched back when it was alive and attached to a monkey

DAVE: dave i really must say

DAVE: this conversation blows

DAVE: yeah sorry

DAVE: maybe i could have really developed this interest

DAVE: maybe i could have been something cool as a result

DAVE: like what even profession is this

DAVE: a dead shit ogler?

DAVE: no wait

DAVE: probably a paleontologist or something

DAVE: i could have been a paleontologist

DAVE: instead of what i became

DAVE: which was

DAVE: uh

DAVE: some pajama packing fuckface from the renaissance fair

DAVE: that would have been the dopeness!

DAVE: eurgh

DAVE: the ironic selfies

DAVE: oh god

DAVE: now this

DAVE: this is some irredeemably mortifying shit here

DAVE: what was i thinking

DAVE: i dont know man

DAVE: i just dont know

DAVE: this is what seasoned veterans call "bad irony"

DAVE: look at this guy

DAVE: what a fucking novice

DAVE: oh who am i kidding

DAVE: i cant stay mad at that face

DAVE: ok this one is pretty funny actually

DAVE: ...

DAVE: eheheh

DAVE: hehehehe

DAVE: haha!

DAVE: hahahahahaha!

DAVE: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

DAVE: WHY

DAVE: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

DAVE: (gasp)

DAVE: WHY CANT

DAVE: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

DAVE: WHY CANT I STOP LAUGHING

DAVE: PFFFFAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

DAVE: YOU WIN!

DAVE: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

DAVE: YOU WIN YOUNG DAVE

DAVE: THESE SELFIES ARE COMEDY GOLD

DAVE: AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

JOHN: hi dave!

JOHN: what's so funny?

DAVE: whoa

DAVE: john

JOHN: what were you looking at there...

JOHN: hey, are you crying?

DAVE: what

DAVE: no

JOHN: ...

DAVE: i mean i was just laughing too hard at something dumb

DAVE: you know how it is

JOHN: heh, yeah.

JOHN: can i see?

DAVE: no its nothing

DAVE: where the fuck have you been

DAVE: do you remember what happened since we got here

JOHN: yes.

DAVE: well

DAVE: are you gonna fill me in or keep floating there in the most uninformative way possible

JOHN: uh oh.

JOHN: dave, i have to go!

DAVE: what

DAVE: why

JOHN: i can't hang around in one place for too long.

JOHN: let's catch up later, ok?

DAVE: john wait

JOHN: see you buddy!

DAVE: no dont

DAVE: john no stop turning into wind you fickle idiot

DAVE: dont just leave right away that is such an insanely predictable move

DAVE: i said get back here you slippery motherfucker!!!

JADE: hello dave

DAVE: god dammit

JADE: he was just here wasnt he

DAVE: no

JADE: how do you even know who im talking about??

DAVE: look all i know is egbert most definitely didnt just appear out of nowhere and catch me weeplaughing at my selfies

JADE: dave i know he was just here

JADE: i can smell him

DAVE: i keep my apparment misted with his odor at all times

DAVE: essence d'egbert

JADE: degbear?

JADE: what...

DAVE: no like the french pronunciation

JADE: ah

DAVE: anyway im just a lot more comfortable when my whole place reeks of nerd musk

DAVE: so that explains that

JADE: you cant fool me dave

JADE: i will track him down sooner or later

JADE: in any case it doesnt matter

JADE: i came here to see you, not him

DAVE: you did

JADE: come with me

DAVE: where

JADE: out here

JADE: we have some work to do

DAVE: what work

JADE: youre going to need to upgrade your weapon

DAVE: what

DAVE: you mean the deringer

JADE: yes

DAVE: i thought it was like the best possible sword

DAVE: or at least the best possible broken sword

JADE: that may very well be the case

JADE: but it will be useless against lord english

JADE: wouldnt you prefer a weapon that is capable of inflicting damage against him?

DAVE: uh

DAVE: not really?

JADE: of course you would

JADE: this isnt even up for discussion

JADE: now give me the deringer

JADE: we have all been traveling for three long years. what better way to celebrate our reunion than with a little alchemy? :)

DAVE: lots of ways

DAVE: we could have a jade goes back to normal party

DAVE: starring normal jade

JADE: HAR HAR

JADE: gimme the sword

DAVE: ok here

DAVE: how do we make it so it can damage him

JADE: it needs a special ingredient

JADE: something which represents his only known weakness, but hasnt been properly weaponized

DAVE: and you know what that is

JADE: i do

DAVE: how

JADE: i get all my intelligence on such matters from the old lady

JADE: shes had centuries to hatch a plan to settle her score

JADE: over time shes uncovered many secrets about him

DAVE: i dont understand how this is working

DAVE: is she piping all these secrets into your brain

DAVE: along with the evil

JADE: that is not relevant!

DAVE: fair enough

DAVE: i guess technically almost nothing is relevant to the dude youre barking orders to

DAVE: literal barking because of dogginess

JADE: bark bark bark!!!

DAVE: yes exactly like that

DAVE: thank you for participating in the joke

DAVE: now what is this special ingredient and where do we get it

JADE: i already have it right here

DAVE: oh yeah?

JADE: in fact ive had it for about as long as i can remember

JADE: it was right under my doggy snout all along

JADE: remember this?

DAVE: no

JADE: dave are you lying to me?

DAVE: no!

DAVE: ive never seen that thing before

JADE: but i found it on your planet

JADE: it must have gotten here somehow

DAVE: i didnt take your lousy egg

JADE: its not an egg!

DAVE: yeah well these planets are crawling with brainless lizards maybe one of them thought it was an egg

DAVE: and then brought it here cause its warm here and tried to hatch it

JADE: you really have a one track mind when it comes to certain things

DAVE: what things

DAVE: what are you talking about

JADE: davesprite was like that too... i just figured it was because he was part bird

JADE: but no, here you are going on about bird things too just like him :p

DAVE: come on dont compare me to him

DAVE: just cause i think its an eggy looking thing dont mean i think like a damn bird

JADE: mm hmm

JADE: and just because i have these pointy ears doesnt mean i wouldnt kill for some snausages right now!

DAVE: .....................

DAVE: do you actually want snausages

JADE: .....................

JADE: maybe ._.

DAVE: ok well snausages notwithstanding this is bullshit

DAVE: tell me how that thing doesnt look like an egg to you

DAVE: how is that not so obviously SUCH an egg???

JADE: its a cueball dave!

DAVE: i see

DAVE: so if im following

DAVE: then what youre trying to tell me is

DAVE: lord english has some sort of severe egg allergy that we are hoping to exploit

JADE: sigh

JADE: i see its still impossible to have a serious conversation with you, whether you are a sassy bird or not

JADE: i thought regular dave might have matured a little over three years but i guess i was wrong

DAVE: can we just make the eggsword already

DAVE: oh no

DAVE: not the legendary piece of shit again

JADE: pardon?

DAVE: its the fuckin welsh sword again!

JADE: are you telling me you have seen this sword before dave

JADE: how is that possible?

DAVE: i dont know!

DAVE: because i have a shitty quest is how

JADE: .....

DAVE: didnt davesprite tell you anything

DAVE: i found this sword in a gold cave and broke it

DAVE: then davesprite took it to hephaestus who fixed it and upgraded it to the deringer

DAVE: and sent that to me and i broke it again

JADE: you sure seem to break swords a lot

DAVE: i know!!!

DAVE: that has always been my thing for some reason

DAVE: now i guess it turns out my ultimate sword is really just a repaired downgrade of my previously ultimate sword mixed with a cueball?

DAVE: we just cycled right back to caledfwelsh like a bunch of tools

DAVE: that is the most stupid convoluted ass backward way to get a sword out of a stone i can even imagine

DAVE: i feel like somebody somewhere is having a good laugh over this i sure hope like the juggalo equivalent of fuckin loki or whoever the fuck is having a top notch riddlewank at my expense

JADE: :|

DAVE: you know what really gets me is

DAVE: this shitty welsh sword presumably consisted of those ingredients all along which just makes me want to travel back in time to perform a mutually assisted suicide with myself

DAVE: me and other dave can take turns suffocating each other with our own DUMBASS capes

JADE: dave i admit this is a peculiar turn of events, but i think you are overreacting

DAVE: jade this is STUPID

DAVE: my quest is a STUPID PIECE OF GARBAGE QUEST for LAME SHITTY LOSER FUCKHEADS WHO SUCK BALLS WHILE CRAPPING THEIR PANTS

JADE: omg

JADE: youve really spent way too much time alone with karkat havent you

DAVE: ...

DAVE: i need help :(

[songmingisthighs]

Ignominy

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xliv - lunch

hybrid!san × human!reader

buy me coffee ?

warning : mdni, smut; explicit sex (not piv), oral (f receiving), semi foot job (??), jerking off, filthy shit

everyone wants to belong, it's basic human need to connect with people around them. what happens when you're responsible for someone who belongs to two worlds but at the same time belongs to neither ? worst part is, what happens when it's your ex ?

You checked your phone and it was 12.13 pm, 13 minutes passed the time San said he would get back. "Butt face," you muttered putting your phone screen down on San's desk. Bored, you stood from your seat to lean over so you could browse through the things on San's desk. He kept everything messily organized, like there are piles and things everywhere, but things are obviously where they should be. And you noticed that the piles were how you organized them and he kept it all the way you did it. During your first week of working you would've thought that he'd undo any and all work you did in his private space. It was good knowing that he had a good change of thought of you since you started working.

"Are you snooping?"

To say you were surprised was an absolute understatement as you hit your knee on his desk rather harshly to the point that you stumbled slightly. San chuckled and pressed his body close to you, pulling you straight up in his arms and guiding you towards his chair. "We got ourselves a clumsy snoop it seems," you pouted at the way he was poking fun at you but didn't say anything as he was placing you on his desk, in front of him, "Do I need to call the Black Widow to help train you?" He smirked, placing both of his hands on either side of your body. You rolled your eyes and flicked his forehead, making him let out a soft 'ow' and a frown, "The Black Widow's dead, San, you're gonna need to borrow Stark's time machine thingy to get her here," you pointed out, crossing your arms in front of your chest with an eyebrow raised cockily. The skin of your stockings-clad knees suddenly felt warm and when your eyes flitted to the spot momentarily, you noticed he had placed his hand there with his thumb rubbing circles on the inner side gently. "Nerd," he teased and you simply rolled your eyes at him.

You were about to get off of his desk when he took a seat on his chair but before you could even attempt to, San pushed his chair forward, effectively trapping you. "Aren't you gonna ask me how my meeting went?" with a raised eyebrow he asked you teasingly as his hands pulled you closer to the edge so that your feet were dangling on the space under his armrest. You shrugged and decided to go with whatever it was that San was trying to do, "Nah... I don't really care much about what you and a bunch of stuffy suits and pencil skirts talked about in a boring old meeting room," San's left eyebrow twitched upwards when he noticed you were being coy with him and his fingers tightened at the sight of your plump, glossy bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "What I care about though," slowly, his hands trail up your legs and slipped under your skirt, resting right where your legs meet your hips with his thumb softly caressing your underwear over your stockings, "is what's under your skirt," he smirked smugly.

Just as San was about to pull your stockings and underwear off by tugging on the waistband, your legs snapped shut as your eyes grew large. Your reaction was not accepted well by San as he hissed at you, bottom lip jutted out into a pout as his eyes stared at you disapprovingly. "Are you fucking crazy?" you tried to snap your legs shut but San's hands were firm with keeping them for him, having full control of your position. "Look who got some tongue now," He scoffed whilst smirking slightly, "Are you being disrespectful to your boss now?" "If it stops my BOSS from doing something stupid like getting caught having sex with his assistant in his office during his break!" You were rather ticked by him, or more towards his sheer nonchalance over being absolutely careless considering the two of you had just gotten caught in a VERY compromising situation not even a week ago in someone else's bathroom. But San simply shrugged as he ripped the crotch of your stockings, exposing your underwear-clad core to the cold air in the room and making you gasp out of surprise. "Well, then we'll say I was having my lunch," it was obvious that San wasn't taking the situation seriously, maybe even thinking that he was so smart for making a such joke. In a different circumstance, you would have absolutely laughed because even you had to admit that it was rather hilarious. But not then, not when he had pulled your panties to the side and eyed your cunt hungrily.

Brazenly, you held San back with your foot to his chest, this time taking him by surprise as evident with his enlarged orbs staring at you. Despite the fact that you were frowning at him in disapproval, San couldn't help but shift his eyes under your skirt and bit the blooming grin on his lips at the sight of your underwear. "Don't try to be funny, I could lose my job," a thought came to your head that maybe he was clouded by his heir privilege, not quite realizing that you were dispensable at the company. You had been so worried over the past couple of days because you didn't know whether his friends were going to say something or not. While it seemed like they won't and nothing bad had happened anyways, you didn't know if anything was happening behind your back with the HR and it caused your anxiety to spike. But San didn't share this worry as he grabbed your foot that was on his chest and placed it over his shoulder, with a roll of his eyes, he returned to his previous task of pulling your underwear to the side so he could directly stare at your wet cunt. "Believe me when I say your job is secured and no one, not even my friends, will come to my office when you're not manning your desk," his tone was reassuring and confident, you immediately recognized it as his business voice, the tone he had to adopt as a high ranking corporate worker who makes deals on a daily basis. Sure, it felt convincing and you felt your worries lessening slightly at his words, but you also felt like he knew something else.

You were about to ask him what he meant by you won't lose your job when he stuck three fingers inside you. Your eyes rolled back into your head and your head lulled to the side at the sudden impact. San smirked when he saw how you reacted to his surprise attack, pleased that he managed to shut you up even if momentarily. In his head, he made a mental task for himself; keeping you from asking questions you weren't supposed to and keeping himself from answering questions he wasn't supposed to. "Look at you loving my fingers in your cunt," he chuckled darkly, teasing you on purpose, "Now tell me why you didn't want me to fuck you in the office, huh? Tell me how am I supposed to hold myself back when you're just so... Fucking irresistible with your skirts and pantsuits, looking so prim and proper around the office and having no one realize just how much of a slut you can be." You couldn't help but moan from the words San used but also from the way his fingers were massaging your walls. Not that you would admit out loud, but San was an expert at what he does, it was almost as if he was a natural at it which was why you refused to believe that he hasn't been fooling around since the two of you broke up. It made no sense for him to be so great with your body without going over some trials and errors with other women.

As San's fingers began to pump into your cunt at a slow pace to start, he instructed you to lean back slightly simply by pushing your lower stomach, adding pressure to the budding pleasure. When you looked down, you made eye contact with San as he lowered his face slowly, tongue darting out between his lips as if he couldn't wait to taste you. Your chest was rising heavily, excitement running through your body and accumulating anticipation that caused your body to shudder when San's tongue made the slightest contact with your wet core. HIs fingers stopped their movements and instead stayed inside you so you still felt like you were being filled as his tongue began its teasing licks. "Fuck," you choked out when you felt San's tongue grazing your slit from where his finger was and up to your clit where he pressed his tongue flat on it. Your body vibrated when San hummed against your cunt and you swore your hole leaked more arousal when you heard his voice. "How was I supposed to not want to taste you any time and anywhere I can?" the first taste seemed to not quench San's thirst for you as instead of feeling satisfied, San felt that he craved more of you, he wanted every single drop of you. "Mine," he growled, taking your sensitive nub between his teeth and tugging on it carelessly. The action forced your legs to instinctively close but San's broad shoulders were in the way, keeping your thighs apart but accidentally letting your foot that was on his lap to slip and made contact with his crotch.

The feeling was new to San, he even had to stop the ministration of his mouth when he felt the sole of your high heel shoe pressed onto his hard cock. His eyes widened and he gulped, finding pleasure in it that caused his hips to ground upwards against your foot instinctively and you took notice of this. "Oh lookie who's acting like a horny bitch now," San detached his mouth from your cunt to groan out when your foot pressed onto his dick harder, "Can't deny that you look cute like this, though," you chuckled. It would seem like you had an upper hand in this situation what with San's release being in your hands (or foot in this case). But ever the confident prick, San lifted himself off of you slightly and pulled his fingers out of you in favour of grabbing your foot, he then proceed to press it harder on his hard dick whilst simultaneously grinding against it. "Just because I let you do some shit doesn't mean you have the upper hand, got it?" he smirked.

San pulled you closer to the edge by your thighs harshly and spared you one last glance before diving back down, "If your feet stop moving, I won't let you cum." And you almost forget what to do because once San returned to eating you out, he wasn't giving you mercy. His tongue moved expertly into your hole as he alternated between it and gave you harsh suck everywhere. A loud slap was heard and your body jolted at the impact San gave to the side of your thigh, spanking you hard enough to get your attention. The glare he gave you was one of warning and reminder, wanting you to hold your end of the work so he would be gaining something as well. It was hard trying to use your foot to work San up especially since he was doing wonders to your cunt that made your legs weak, but you were still determined to try. Mostly because he threatened to not let you cum but also because you want him to be affected by you once in a while.

Soon, the both of you fell into a rhythm of pleasuring each other. You became more comfortable using your feet on San, knowing just what made him tick and how to tease him. You found out through his moans that he particularly liked you using the sharp tip of your heels on his sensitive tip. The combination of his pants and the pressure was just perfect for San as it provides textured friction but also pressure with an edge of pain that wasn't too overbearing. Not that he minded, but it would be best to use pain at a later time, preferably somewhere you can be as loud as you can comfortably.

"S-shit," you gasped when you felt San spreading your pussy apart to tongue-fuck your hole, greedily slurping the essence you produced as obnoxious sucking sounds filled the room. San's teeth nibbled on one side of your pussy lips, chuckling when he felt the leg that was on his shoulder pull him even closer than before (if it was possible). "Are you trying to suffocate me on your cunt?" another gasp left your lips when San reached between and slapped your pussy twice, making your body jolt in surprise and your hole clench around nothing, something San saw clearly. "Y-you said you wanted to have me, didn't you?" you whimpered as you let your foot run up the length of San's cock with a slight pressure that made the man hum in approval. San smirked against your pussy after hearing that, loving how submissive you sounded. "You're right, baby, I should thank you, huh?"

Out of the blue, San plunged three of his fingers into your cunt as his lips latched on your clit. The combination of the actions and abruptness made your leg muscles spasm slightly and you accidentally pressed onto San's cock a little harder than you intended. San grunted from the pain but he made no move to stop his work, allowing you to think that he might be into that. But you couldn't make fun of him, not when you felt your climax approaching. "Yes, oh fuck! Mo- more, Sannie, more!" you whined, tucking your face into your arm slightly to muffle out the very needy and whiny voice you were making. It wasn't just your voice that drove him into bringing you to your climax, but it was also how your feet were rubbing on him harshly, bordering on just directly stepping onto his dick. But he loved it, he loved it so much that it drove him to eat you out with even more fervour.

It happened all at once, you came hard on his tongue as your thighs shook and you accidentally used your heel to press on his cock and it made him choke on your cunt slightly. San pushed himself off of you and immediately stood up on his own slightly shaky legs. He then pulled you up into a sitting position, not even caring that you were still trying to ride your high. Your head was fuzzy with pleasure and you didn't even realize that San had whipped his dick out and was jerking himself off. San was hissing at the feeling of his dick finally getting attention after being tortured by your foot and it felt so good getting pleasure after being teased as he pleasured you. It wasn't until you felt something warm on your cunt that you looked down to see what San was doing. He had pulled your underwear just enough to have his cock slip in and come on your bare cunt. You couldn't help but shudder and let out a moan at the feeling of his warm cunt filling your panties and as you were in such a state, San was peppering kisses from your cheek down to your neck, giving you praises for being so good and obedient for him as he continued finishing himself off.

Once done, San slumped back into his chair with a satisfied grin as you shift on your seat, the feeling of his cum in your panties rather unusual but at the same time, it felt dirty enough that it was hot and slightly turning you on. "My cum better still be in your panties by the end of the day and yes, I will check," San said smugly, smirking at you and you couldn't help but roll your eyes and scoff but the blush on your face showed how embarrassed you were at the thought of him looking into your panties later in the day.

The thought of people finding out that you have been sleeping with your boss pushed to the back burner. Now, you could only think about how you were supposed to survive the day with San's cum in your panties. Thoughts of what if it drips out and people notice flooded your head and you thought to yourself.

'Why do I put myself in this position?'

taglist :

@rdiamond2727 @90s-belladonna @kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @miaatiny @shinotani @jayb17 @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @bbymatz @yunhorights @tinybinnie @blaaiissee @yunhobug @kwanisms @yoongiigolden @kpopnightingale @maddiebabyxoxo @dea-nimus @meowmeowminnie @x-bluee @itsbeeble @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @x-woozi @jwnghyuns @marvelous-imagines-for-all @baguette-atiny @jessi-outdated @dogsongy @kirooz @ateezourstars @memorymonster @yoonguurt @atinytinaa @naiify @cecedrake2217 @spooo00oky @flamingi @thesolarplanetarysystem @hijeongguk @hongjoong-lovebot @linhyyboo12 @leeknowsnothing @knucklesdeepmingi @doom-fics @yesv01

[levelsevenlaserlotus]

Holy Ground

Part 7

AN: So um this is awkward, I promise I’m not dead or anything, shit just kinda hit that fan for me. But now that I’m back I’m not going anywhere. Also shoutout to the lovely @sweetmissnothing for reviewing and revising as always.

Parings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: When your babysitter cancels last minute you have no choice but to bring you daughter with you to your college class. There, your daughter seems to catch the attention of your hot redhead professor.

Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Words: 3.5k

“Mommy! Mommy! Look what Peter bought me!” Stella sings cheerfully, skipping up to you, right past Peter who unlocked the door.

It couldn’t have been more than 40 minutes between Jack’s impromptu visit and Stella’s arrival at home. If Jack had decided to stick around, you shudder at the thought.

“You’re not looking!” Stella whined, jumping up and down impatiently.

“Sorry honey, what did you want to show me?” You ask, shaking your head to clear it.

“Peter bought me an otter stuffy. ” Stella says, pulling the brown stuffed animal from under her arm to show you.

Great, as if your daughter needed another stuffed animal. Frankly it was a miracle Stella could still sleep in her bed with all those plushies piled high.

“Wow! That was really nice of him, what do we say when people do nice things for us?” You ask gently.

Stella gives you a toothy smile, turns to Peter and gives him a high pitched: “Thank you!”

Peter smiles back at her, ruffling her hair gently.

“Of course, whatcha gonna name it?”

“Ottie.” Stella says giggling happily, hugging the stuffed otter closer to her chest.

“That’s a perfect name for it.” You tell her distractedly.

Stella’s eyes sparkle under the praise before running off with Ottie, presumably to introduce him to her other stuffed friends.

“You didn’t have to.” You tell Peter who just shakes his head and shrugs.

“I know but I wanted to.” You roll your eyes.

“The last thing that girl needs is more toys, but really thank you.”

“Of course, don’t worry about it!” Peter says brightly, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Peter, I don’t mean to say this to be rude but, do you have friends?” You ask gently, you didn’t know of many teenagers who would spend their weekends hanging out with a toddler, regardless of how cute they were.

“What? What makes you say that?” Peter asks almost nervously.

“Peter, you babysit at least a couple times a week, half of the time you don’t even let me pay, that’s not exactly normal for kids your age. You should be going to parties and hanging out with friends.” You lecture him.

“I like babysitting!” Peter protests, his voice going higher than normal. “And I have friends, I have Ned!”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I just don’t want you missing out on anything because you're babysitting.” You tell the teenager gently.

“I’m not missing out on much, trust me. Drugs and sex probably.” Peter says, playing with the ends of his sleeves.

“Well I’m hopefully enough of an example of what happens when you have sex as a teenager.” You laugh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, no girls even look my way.” Peter says, hands in his pockets looking somewhat tense.

“Well I wouldn’t worry, you're 14 so you have plenty of time to meet and kiss girls.” You reassure him.

“Maybe.” Peter says, looking down with a slight blush on his cheeks. You think about teasing the young boy but you end up saving him from the embarrassment.

After saying goodbye to Peter you start on dinner. Your mind is so full of thoughts that you burn the chicken breasts you were making. Oh well, there’s always takeout.

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

You’re careful to wait until you're sure Stella’s asleep before you call to unleash your rage upon your mother.

Your relationship with your mother was tremulous at best, difficult and strained. Your relationship with your father was barely better than the former.

You were raised in the traditional Christian household. You went to church every Sunday, prayed before each meal and even promised your virginity to your husband when you were 12.

It should have been no surprise to anyone the sort of person you became outside of the house. Your mother would’ve had a stroke if she knew how many times you sneaked out or sneaked people inside the house. The parties, pills and people that you sought out might have caused an early death if she had known.

When she learned of your pregnancy, she almost did die, inside at least. Her worst fear for you came true, a teen mom, an unmarried teen mom at that. The only thing worse in her mind was probably you being gay, because somehow an unexpected teen pregnancy was not much worse than your sexuality.

You never did come out to either of your parents, waiting them out just seemed like a safer option. So you stayed in the closet, kissed girls at parties and never told a soul. You always thought you’d have time to fully explore your sexuality in college.

Then you got pregnant, and suddenly college wasn’t so certain. After the rage of the storm your mother put upon you, she got oddly calm. There were options, not abortion obviously, because God says life starts at conception, but marriage. If you and Jack got married before you started to show then at least your mother could continue to put up the front that you saved yourself for marriage. It didn’t matter that you weren’t sure if you ever even wanted to get married, or how even if you did Jack was the last person you’d tie yourself to.

Jack wasn’t ever your boyfriend, just some senior in your class that had a car and daddy’s credit card. It didn’t matter that you had no romantic feelings for him, according to your mother if you liked him enough to have sex with him that was enough to marry him. That ideology led you to again question your own parents' marriage.

You weren’t exactly kicked out but when you refused to even consider marrying Jack, you left for a while. Staying at a couple of friends' houses, conveniently leaving out the part where you were pregnant.

You were almost in your second trimester before your father called you to come back home. Going as far as lying to you, insisting that your mother wanted you home as much as he did. What was closer to the truth, you’d suspected, was that your mother couldn’t continue to keep up the lie that you had never left in the first place.

You did return, your friends started asking too many questions and truthfully you missed home. Almost turned right back around when it became clear that your mother was less than enthusiastic about your return. Wanting nothing to do with you, didn’t even want you home but your father put his foot down, it was his house, his rules.

It was still a hellish experience, your mother barely acknowledged your existence and if she did it was to shame you for your choices. As for your pregnancy? It might have not ever existed, the unspoken rule was that you were to never speak of it. You would tell your mother you were going out for lunch or a walk, when everyone knew you really had an ultrasound appointment. You mother never wanted to talk about it? Fine with you.

Her anger and disappointment only grew with your pregnancy, once you hit four months and hiding your belly was getting difficult, your mother was soon ostracized from her group of church moms. All of them were apparently terrified that teen pregnancy was contagious.

This disappointment carried over, your own mother refusing to be in the delivery room, choosing instead to go on a weekend getaway to the spa due to the stress. Your father on the other hand was unable to leave work, or so he said. You gave birth alone, with no one but the doctors and nurses to witness.

You resented them at first, then you saw her, tiny and so incredibly vulnerable and you realized you didn’t want them there. Their cruelty and disappointment had no place in such a joyous moment. No place near something so innocent and perfect.

It was just the two of you, soft and cozy, untouchable by the rest of the world at that moment. You knew that your daughter would be enough for you, but would you be enough for her? You made a silent promise to yourself that you would try to be enough for your daughter.

Stella became the only family you wanted or would ever need, you knew that right when you saw those big eyes staring into yours.

You lived at home for a while, you were in no shape to return to school, and you were terrified at even the idea of leaving Stella all alone. Because that’s what she would be without you, all alone.

You missed prom and graduation, your friends went dress shopping without you and your diploma was mailed to your house.

That summer before your first year of college was the hardest, your mother absent and your father at work.

You spent most of your time in your bedroom, Stella cuddled up on your bare chest and for hours you would watch her breathe.

Things got better when you went off to college, your relationship with your parents got better with distance. Your parents met Stella a few times and it wasn’t a horrible experience. While your parents never called you, when you did call a few times a month they always answered. Communication was limited and as a result better than ever.

You never did ask either of them for anything, but every month without fail your father sent a couple thousand. Maybe it was out of guilt but that money practically paid for your apartment’s rent so you were grateful.

Things were better, you made a family in Wanda and Pietro, even Peter, who became the little brother you always wanted.

And now because of your mother, someone was trying to rip your found family apart. Jack would never be the family Stella needed, never be enough for her. Jack wasn’t her family, you were, Wanda, Pietro and Peter were.

And her family was growing, Laura and Clint were the aunt and uncle Stella never had. Cooper, Lila and little baby Natheinel were the best cousins Stella could ever have.

Stella was happy, and loved, so loved by everyone. Jack couldn’t just walk in and try to rip her away from everything she’s ever known. And you would never let that happen.

On the seventh ring your mother picks up and you don’t hesitate to curse her out.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“That is no way to greet your own mother.” Your mother scolds in a harsh tone. Your finger’s grip tightens around the phone, your anger bubbling up into the surface.

“Yes, well you’re hardly acting like one so.” You say coolly. You can imagine her at home, pouring a glass of wine, settled into bed when you call her. Completely indifferent and unfazed by the destruction she sent your way.

“That’s certainly an attitude you’ve got there, I would hope you don’t speak to Stella in that way”. Your mother says in a condescending voice. Yeah right, as if you were going to let your mother of all people tell you how to mother your own child.

“Keep Stella out of this, you’ve already done enough.” You say harshly, not even trying to control your tone. Too enraged to even think straight.

“I don’t know what you're talking about!” Your mother says, apparently horrified at your accusation.

“Don’t lie to me, you know exactly what you did.” The audacity of this woman, to lie to your face and play ignorant.

“I don’t like the tone you're using with me, young lady. You think just because you're an adult now that you can talk to me however you like. I think you forget that I’m your mother and am entitled to your respect.” Your mother lectures, cold and unwavering.

“You’ve never had my respect to begin with.” You bite back, maybe it was cruel, but it wasn’t untrue. You stopped, you didn’t call to fight over nothing. “I know that you gave Jack my address.” You tell her. “And don’t try to deny it, I know because he told me, right after he showed up demanding custody.”

“Jack? I’m not familiar with that name.” You mother says dismissively, as if you were telling her the weather or the time.

“Jack? Jack Birch? As in the guy who knocked your daughter up? Don’t tell me you forgot about him? That would be pretty embarrassing, especially considering the fact that you wanted me to marry him.”

“Oh him? Yes I remember him, he was a very nice man, husband material.” Your mother says, as if she’s trying to set you up with a boy from church like she used to.

“I’m sorry, are you deaf? Did you forget the part where he one, showed up at my door uninvited? With, might I add the address I gave you. And- “ You're cut off.

“If you didn’t want me giving out your address you should have just said something.”

“I should have said something? Me! Maybe you shouldn’t give out my home address to the asshole who impregnated me and ran!” You’re raising your voice now, unable to control the anger within your body.

“Honey, don’t you think you're overreacting?” Leave it to your mother to be patronizing as ever.

“I’m the one who’s overreacting? Don’t you think you're underreacting? I could lose custody of Stella because of you! And you’re telling me that I’m overreacting? God you’re so fucking full of it!” You feel like a teenager again as you argue with her.

“Don’t use God's name in vain, you’ll go to hell for that.” Is all that your mother has to say.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? That’s what your focusing on? Seriously?”

“You know, it’s very hard to have a mature, adult conversation when someone isn’t acting like an adult.” Your mother says coldly.

“Ahh yes, someone”.

“Whatever, if you want to act like a petulant child, be my guest”. Your mother says, still in that patronizing tone.

“The only one here who's acting like a child is you”. It’s amazing really, how long you and your mother could go in circles, screaming at one another.

“Which is why you're the one raising her voice”.

“Just fucking admit it for fucks sake! I know you reached out to Jack and I know you gave him my address”. Your voice is rising with every minute and you're incredibly close to waking up Stella but you can’t just hold it in.

“Is it really that bad if I did? Stella doesn't have a father- ”You cut her off

“No, she doesn’t, she has me.”

“And that will never be enough! You know it, I know it, and your father knows it”. Your mother finally screams from her end.

Your mother was a cruel woman, unkind comments weren’t a rare occasion, and yet this was the worst thing she’s ever said to you, the worst thing anyone could say to you.

Tearing through the walls of yourself and ripping at your biggest insecurity, that you would never be enough for your daughter, that the family you gave Stella would never be enough.

“Stop pretending like you care about the well-being of my daughter, stop acting like you act in anyone else’s interest other than your own. Stop interfering with my life!” If Stella hadn’t already woken up to the sound of you yelling at your mother, she definitely would be up now.

“You are such a spoiled child, do you have any idea how much I’ve given up for you?” Your mother hisses back, as if you owed her for the life she gave you.

Your anger boils over and you explode at her.

“God dammit! You are such a narcissist bitch.”

And with that you hang up the phone and throw it across the room, your entire body vibrating with anger. You wanted to punch someone, or scream or both.

“Mommy?” It’s Stella’s voice, still sleepy, that cuts through your anger. You turn and sees your Stella standing in the doorway, lit up by the hallway light, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and clutching Ottie in her hand.

“Hi, sweet pea, did I wake you up? Momma’s sorry.” You tell her almost sheepishly. You hated the person you became around your mother and tonight was no exception. You lost your temper where Stella could hear you, and you felt like the worst mother in the world for it.

“Was yelling.” Stella says, climbing her way onto your bed, and practically falling into the soft covers.

“I know and I’m sorry baby, I promise it won’t happen again.” You say, the guilt makes you feel sick to your stomach.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like saying sorry, or had an overly difficult time in admitting fault, but when it came to your daughter it came at a great pain.

The idea that there were things that you would do, mistakes that you would make that would cause her pain or distress. That your little girl would stop seeing you as her hero, as someone who could fix everything and anything. It was a painful realization at first when you came to learn that you would never be a perfect mother.

“Why?”

You look down to see those big eyes, sleepy and curious, asking why you were yelling. Something you faced so much during your childhood, you swore Stella’s wouldn’t be like that.

You sigh and try to figure out how the hell to explain why you were yelling in a way that wasn’t too big, complicated or adult to explain.

“I was on the phone with someone who hurt me a lot, she said a lot of unkind things to me and it really hurt my feelings. And what do we do when we’re hurt or in pain?”

“We hurt others.” Stella responds, looking more alert and sitting up. You brush some hair behind her ears and smile sadly.

“Not always but when we get hurt sometimes we hurt others, and it’s not right but sometimes it happens. That’s what happened to mommy today, okay?” You ask, your fingers stroking her hair in a way that always soothes her.

“Are you going to say sowy?” Stella asks. This makes you still, your fingers stopping their movements. No, you weren’t going to apologize, your mother certainly didn’t deserve one.

“Yeah, I am”. You lie, and you hate it, hate lying unnecessarily to her. The lies you told your daughter were limited to those involving Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. But these lies, these lies you hated even if it was easier.

“Okay.” Stella says sleepily, burrowing down into your covers. You sigh, normally you’d let her stay and sleep curled up with you but tonight was different. Tonight you needed to be alone, to study, to cry maybe, and hopefully figure out what the hell you were going to do about Jack.

“Do you want me to carry you to your room?” You ask, rubbing her back before patting her bottom gently.

“Can’t stay?” Stella mumbles out, still burrowed into your covers, her little fists holding the sheets, unwilling to move.

“Not tonight, tomorrow I promise”, you tell her guilt at turning down her request for comfort in favor of your own needs, isn’t that what your own mother would do. Just the thought makes your insides turn inside out in discomfort.

“Pweas?”

Stella’s voice tended to develop more of a lisp when sleepy or upset, something that was unbelievably adorable and was very good at making you give jn to any requests made.

“Tomorrow, I promise, we can have a little sleepover, okay? We can eat snacks and watch a movie, just not tonight, I’m sorry baby.” It was painful, turning her away, because you knew one day she wouldn’t want to climb into bed with you and cling to you so tight. But you needed tonight for yourself, and however you decided to cope, you wanted to be alone for that.

“Pwomise?”

“I pinky promise.” You offer her your pinky, which she curls into your extending one.

“Okay.”

“Come on love bug, time for bed.” You pull her onto your chest before scooting out of bed, holding her tight and taking a deep inhale of that strawberry shampoo.

You walk the short distance to her bedroom, and place her on the bed gently, letting her crawl under the cover, snuggling into Ottie and the rest of her stuffed friends.

“Sweet dreams honey, I love you so much.” You tuck her into bed, kiss her forehead and pull the covers up under her chin.

“Love you too”.

You stay until she falls asleep, sitting on your knees and just watching her breathe, just like you did when she was just a baby.

When her breath evens out and she coos softly in her sleep you finally stand up, ready to leave, but before you do you give her one last kiss on her forehead.

“I promise I won’t let him take you away from me.”

Taglist: @tashakink​ @alfiikae @lizzieolsen89 @msromanoffswife​ @lorsstar1st​ @splatalia-jumpanova​ @alwaysgoodnight @simp-erformarvelwomen​ @macaroni-with-hotsause​ @romanoffjohansson ​ @alianovnam​ @adi06lena @t00manyfand0ms​ @orangelifestyle​ @powerfultaylor​ @toouncreativeforausername​ @heidithriel @blackwidowismylove @silver-lotus @marvelshark @ripofflizzie @hallefuckinlujah @mrswidowjohansson @emril-osvigne @natashalovers​ @natty-taffy @padmeswife @karmasgxrl @lilbredsticc @s1ut4nat @wizardofstories @get-the-fuck-outta-here @kathleenmikaelson​ @incorrectlycorrectfun @fxckmiup @wildnightuniverse @how-to-disappearr @jayxxace @maggieromanov @helloalycia @when-wolves-howl @cantthinkofagood-name @lyak12 @ho0ope-maximo0off @luna-maximoff-22 @romanoffsgal @kawaiitoga @notmeellaannyy @xxromanoffxx

[andypantsx3]

FINGERPRINTS 5 SNEAK PEEK PLEEK 🙏🙏

Hello my angels!!! Grouping all my asks about chapter five together so I don't annoy people by posting about this a million times on the dash lol.

Ahhh I'm so glad you're hype!!!!! Chapter five is coming along a little slowly since I've had interference in my writing schedule the past week. I can't promise it will be out this weekend (but hopefully next)!!

We are gonna meet Shouto's mom, and we're gonna be a big mess, as usual lol.

But while you wait for me to get my shit together and finish, here's a little sneak peek:

“Your room?” Shouto asked, looking down at you.

You nodded. “Uh, do you wanna see it?”

To your surprise he nodded, and you led him over to the door, feeling strangely lightheaded. You were about to have Todoroki Shouto in your bedroom.

He really was truly overwhelming to have in your private space. Your room was small, only enough space for a tiny bed, a squashed little dresser, and a shelf for knick knacks–all so closely crammed in together that you could be touching all three at the same time. But Shouto made the room seem even smaller, somehow, filling up the space with his broad shoulders and tall frame, in a way that seemed to draw the corners of the room in towards him.

You thanked every god man had ever worshipped that you’d made your bed and swept your own floor, and that you’d just done a laundry load full of sheets so that your room still smelled like the cottony clean detergent you’d used.

“It suits you,” Shouto said, surprising you, going over to your shelf with apparently no qualms about looking like he was snooping. He touched his fingers to the leaves of a plant, flipped a book cover over to examine it.

You had no idea what this meant. 

He thought you were…cramped and poky? Stuffy and weird?

He turned towards you, as if able to read your mystified thoughts. “Comfortable. Warm.” He paused, dragging a hand absently down your bedding–a neatly arranged pile of cozy comforter, puffy pillows, and a knitted throw for extra warmth, all in cheery warm tones. His fingers lingered on your pillowcase. “Cute,” he said.

You reached out, grasping your bed frame for stability, suddenly weak around the knees.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Word Count: 5796 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader Gender: Female Era: The prison Summary: After a close call on a run, the archer explodes at you.

Warnings: Language

Your name: submit What is this?

Another run, another disaster. You needed supplies. What you got was a pile of problems. Daryl, Maggie, Glenn and you ended up in a tight spot with far more walkers than you had expected. You were trapped inside a small flower shop with walkers banging on all the exits.

“How many you got, Glenn?” you whispered harshly to him over the banging fists and gnashing jaws.

“Uhh, too many out this way. Maybe twenty. Possibly more.”

“Fuck…” you muttered. You rushed back to Daryl and Maggie who were both leaning against the side door with all their weight to keep it closed. “Too many out Glenn’s way,” you relayed. You sighed and wiped a slightly shaky hand across your sweaty brow. “I—I’m gonna clear out the back.”

“What?!” Maggie snapped, readjusting her back against the door. “You said there were ten walkers out there.”

Daryl shook his head vehemently. “Nah! That’s too many. Ya can’t—”

“We don’t have a goddamn choice! Look, it’s the exit with the fewest geeks, so unless either of you can suddenly come up with a new and brilliant idea in the next five seconds, I’m doing it!” You waited, staring at both of them.

You shook your head. “You’ve gotta keep this door shut with Maggie until the back is clear. She and I won't be enough. I’m going.”

“Wait—Y/N!” Daryl yelled after you but you were already gone, disappearing into the back stockroom. “Son of a bitch!” Daryl was letting fly a lengthy string of expletives and there was panic in his eyes. Maggie noticed the overwhelming distress on his face as her own stomach flipped.

“She’s—she’s a good fighter,” Maggie stammered.

“And she’s too damn impulsive!” Daryl yelled, straining to keep his weight against the door behind them. “If we get outta this, and she makes it, I’mma kill her,” he growled. Maggie gulped.

In the back room you could hear the walkers still on the other side of the door and you steeled yourself, checking the magazine of your pistol and making sure there was a bullet chambered. You unsnapped the loop on top of your knife’s sheath and heaved in a forced breath. Here we fuckin’ go. You unlocked the door, barely opened it, putting your boot in the way to try and hold it open just enough for you to get your knife into the space. But the pressure of the walkers on the other side was too great for you to manage it for long. You stabbed your knife into the temple of the nearest walker pressing its face toward you in the opening and it was immediately replaced with another.

“Can ya hear anythin’?” Daryl asked desperately.

Maggie shook her head. “No! Just hold on,” she urged. Her back was sweaty from exertion and the stuffy air inside the store and she was starting to slide down the door behind her, constantly having to readjust her position to keep her bodyweight against it beside Daryl.

Just then there was a tremendous crash from the back room followed by gun shots. Daryl and Maggie exchanged a desperate look but the walkers outside the door just behind them had obviously heard the noise too and they attempted to surge forward. Daryl’s boots began to slide on the floor.

“We aren’t gonna be able to hold this much longer!” Maggie yelled, straining to press back into the door and hold the flood of walkers at bay. Over the groaning and mawing she and Daryl could hear more bangs in the back room.

Daryl leaned his head back against the door and shut his eyes for a moment. He felt sick, terrified. What if you were—? He couldn’t hear anything else from the stockroom. “Fuck this,” he growled, glancing at Maggie next to him. As if on cue, Glenn showed up and added his weight to the door behind them.

“I got the entrance jammed shut finally. Where’s Y/N?” he asked, incredulous.

“She went to clear the back way out,” Maggie said.

“What?!” Glenn’s eyes went wide.

“We ain’t waitin’ anymore! C’mon. On the count of three we make a run for the back,” Daryl said. “One. Two…”

Right then you emerged from the back room covered in walker blood, sweaty, your chest heaving, and looking completely exhausted. More concerning was a stream of blood pouring down the side of your face from a gash near your hairline. You absently wiped it out of your eye with your sleeve. “It’s clear! Let’s go!” you yelled at the trio, who were all staring at you in bewilderment.

“…Three!” Daryl said, and they threw themselves forward off the door. It immediately flung open and a flood of walkers began to pour in behind you all. “Go, go, go!” Daryl roared. He tossed anything he could get his hands on in their path behind him as he ran.

They leaped over the bodies of fallen walkers and debris as they rushed through the stockroom, but there it was—the back door standing open, sunlight streaming in, free of any biting jaws or clawing hands. Daryl slammed the door closed behind him as he exited the building but there was no telling how long it would hold.

You were all out of breath but had to keep going.

“Let’s get to the van. Now,” Daryl drawled, not even stopping to glance at any of you.

“My God,” Maggie said, looking over at you as you ran. “Your head—are you alright?” she asked you.

You pressed your sleeve to the gash again and nodded. “Yeah. I think so. You know, head wounds always bleed a lot. Looks worse than it is.”

“What happened?” Glenn asked, running beside his wife, one hand on the strap of his pack and the other entwined with Maggie’s.

“When they started coming in, I had to slow them down. They were coming too fast for me to kill. I pulled those shelves down but it was a bit of a domino effect.”

“Ain’t the place for story time,” Daryl snapped over his shoulder. “Let’s just get the hell outta here.”

You made it back to the van, exhausted, clutching a stitch in your side, your head pounding. You collapsed into the passenger seat as Daryl slid in behind the wheel. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, finally feeling the tightness in your lungs lessen, but you could feel Daryl’s eyes on you and you glanced over. They were narrowed but his expression was unreadable.

“What?” you asked in an undertone.

You thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense but he simply looked away and started up the van. Soon you were behind the safe, high fences of the prison, climbing out and truly feeling the pain in your head now that the adrenaline had worn off.

Carol and Carl ran to greet you all when you came in. Her eyes clouded with concern as she saw your bloodstained face. “Are you alright?” she asked you urgently, taking your chin gently and turning your head to the side so she could inspect the gash.

“Fine,” you said. “I think. Hurts a bit…”

“I’ll get Hershel so he can take a look at you. I think he’s planting in the garden plot with Rick. I’ll send him up,” Carol said. She paused to give Daryl, who was hanging back, a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and a once over.

You glanced back and he had the same moody expression on his face. It had been a close call for all of you but you couldn’t help but feel like his irritation was directed specifically at you. You tried to shrug it off, but couldn’t suppress the twisting knot in your chest.

Maggie and Glenn broke off to grab some fresh water and Carol went over to talk to Hershel, Carl trailing behind her. That left just you and Daryl heading up to the cell block. The air was tense between you as you crossed the yard but as you stepped into the small common area just outside the cells, it was like it suddenly ignited white-hot.

Daryl threw his bag down angrily on one of the tables and your eyes snapped over to him.

You were a little worried your voice would shake when you spoke. “What’s the matter?” you asked him.

“Are ya shittin’ me?” he challenged you, his chest thrust forward, his eyes now locked on your face.

Your heart started to race and you gulped at the constriction that had suddenly appeared in your throat.

“That was real dumb what ya did back there today!” Daryl roared, pointing an accusatory finger directly at you. His eyes kept flickering up to the gash in your head and his stomach twisted every time. “You’re lucky all you got was that thing on your forehead!”

“What—I—” you stared at him, in shock from his rage. “I got us out of there… I had to.” “Nah. It wasn’t your call to make,” he spat back venomously.

You scoffed. “It was nobody’s call to make, Daryl! We were trapped and we had to get out. We were sitting ducks. Sooner or later they were going to come through the glass up front by Glenn or through that door right behind you and Maggie. I made a choice. And what I did, it didn’t thrust anybody but me right into danger. I can choose to gamble my own life if I want to! Hell, you do it all the time!”

This only seemed to infuriate him more. “Ya ain’t goin’ on runs anymore,” he roared, turning and stalking toward the door that led to the cells. His broad shoulders were squared and rigid.

You let out a noise of disbelief. “That isn’t your decision! And don’t walk away from me! I’ve had enough of this bullshit!”

“Yeah, well that makes two of us,” Daryl spat back over his shoulder.

You let out a frustrated groan. “Ugh! You are so infuriating! What is your problem with me? I haven’t done a damn thing to you and you treat me like I’m a complete waste of space! It’s like I can never do anything right for you, even when I save your ass!”

He spun around and took a few powerful steps back toward you, a scowl on his face, his blue eyes darker than usual. You refused to wilt under it. “This ain’t a shrink’s office, okay? And I sure as shit didn’t sign up for a little feel-good chat. So, why don’t ya leave me alone and go get your damn head stitched up.” He thrust a hand against the back of a nearby chair and it toppled over, echoing harshly in the high ceiling. You watched his broad shoulders shrinking away from you.

“No,” you said loudly, forcefully.

He froze mid-stride and you watched his fist clench and unclench at his side. He slowly turned to face you. “The hell did ya just say?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, resisting the urge to back down beneath his intense stair. “I said no. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck your problem is with me.”

His jaw clenched hard and he started back toward you, that familiar stalk and swagger in his gait. “You are my problem. You’re always getting in my damn way!”

You were trying to stay cool, but your confusion and his unwillingness to explain his anger was infuriating. “In your way? What the hell do you mean?”

“I mean what I said.” He pointed a finger in your face, standing hardly a foot from you now. “On runs. On hunts. Scavenging. Hell, even around here!” Daryl wasn’t prepared for the flash of hurt that crossed your face. You were always so tough, admittedly one of the things he loved about you. He hadn’t considered that his words might actually impact you so heavily, but he saw it flash in your eyes as plain as day and it snapped him out of his rage and filled him suddenly with regret.

Your brow furrowed and you just stared back at him, unwavering, puzzled, like you were trying your hardest to understand just what he was talking about, scrutinizing every past interaction you’d ever had with the archer, running over the events of the day, trying to decode his harsh words. Daryl would have preferred it if you had yelled back again, even if you had stormed out. But this? This was tying him up in knots inside in a worse way. You just went on looking at him… with that blood all down the side of your face.

And when you did finally speak your tone was so soft, so controlled in contrast to his that it only made him feel worse. Your words were measured. “Well, uhh… Sorry. I guess I’ll just—try harder to stay out of your way.”

And that was it. You just breezed past him and headed toward your cell, the sun coming through the high windows glinting off the shine in your hair before you disappeared. Daryl rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. You worthless piece of shit. Why the hell did ya do that? He cursed himself internally. You’re such an asshole.

_ _ _ _ _ _

That night the air was unseasonably cold but despite the chill you were spending the night on the outside balcony of the guard tower during your shift to keep watch. Every so often you shivered in the cold, but something about the bite of the air matched your mood after Daryl had exploded at you the way he had earlier. It was sharp, unexpected.

You still didn’t really understand what he had meant and you couldn’t stop puzzling over it. In his way? What the hell did he mean? Literally? Or did he mean something more… figurative?

The clank of the door behind you snapped you out of your swirling thoughts and you looked over your shoulder to see Rick emerging.

“Hey,” you greeted him, shrugging a little more deeply into your flannel.

“Hey,” he drawled back, coming to lean his forearms on the railing beside you and stare out across the yard. It was quiet tonight. He was grateful for that. “Cold tonight isn’t it?” he mused aloud, glancing over at you. When you didn’t respond and just continued staring into the night his brow contracted. “Are you alright?”

“Hmm?” your eyes finally snapped to his. “Oh. Yeah. I’m fine. I thought you were supposed to be resting tonight,” you said pointedly. “I can handle the next shift. I’m not tired anyway.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, turning back to let his eyes wander across the perimeter. “Not tired? Even after that run today? Maggie said you all had a close call.”

You nodded. “We did. But we all came back so… about as good a day as any. Can’t ask for more than that.”

“Mmm,” Rick hummed again in agreement. There was a long silence and you could feel some growing tension in it, sensed that Rick was searching for how to say just what he was mulling over. He did finally manage it. “This whole ‘not tired’ thing have anything to do with that fight you and Daryl had this afternoon?”

You gulped and looked down at your hands. “You heard that? I really thought everyone was outside…”

“They were. I just happened to be coming in to clean up a bit.”

You sighed heavily and felt your cheeks redden a little. You put one hand up to your face. “That’s… great…” you muttered.

Rick turned so he was facing you, just leaning on the railing with one elbow now. “I wouldn’t worry about what Daryl said or how he said it…” he drawled. You looked at him like he was insane.

“…you did say you heard him, right?”

Rick nodded. “Oh, yeah. I heard ‘im. But there’s a saying and it truly does apply to Daryl Dixon.”

“And what’s that?” you asked, cocking a skeptical eyebrow.

“The dog that barks the loudest? That’s the one that’s the most afraid.” Rick watched you puzzling over his words for a moment before you turned back to the night.

“Afraid?” you repeated. “Daryl? He’s like—the most fearless of all of us.”

Rick sighed and followed your lead, again looking out into the darkness. “He is. Until he isn’t. Listen, I’m not making excuses for how he yelled at you. All I’m saying is not to think on it too hard.” He straightened up and pulled off his jacket, holding it out for you. “Take this. It’s cold. I’m gonna take this opportunity while Judith is asleep to also sleep. Let’s hope I didn’t just jinx it. Ya sure you’re alright up here?”

You nodded and slipped Rick’s jacket on. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Alright.” He patted your shoulder kindly before again leaving you alone with your thoughts, possibly even more confused than you had been before.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You were exhausted by the time you climbed down from the guard tower the next morning as the sun was cresting over the trees. All you could think about was collapsing into your bed. The prison was still fairly silent as you came in, most people still sleeping. You yawned as you turned the corner into the room just outside the row of cells. When you looked up you saw Daryl sitting on one of the tables sharpening some bolts for his bow. You actually froze, before forcing yourself to move out of your falter.

You could feel his eyes on you as you crossed the room, purposefully giving him a wide berth, your head tilted down. When you turned into the cell block you let out an exhale you hadn’t meant to hold. You breezed into your cell and collapsed down onto your bed, hugging the pillow as you sank into it, too tired even to pull the sheet across the doorway. You were asleep the next minute.

Carol was up and found Daryl still in the same place you had seen him, but although he had a bolt in one hand and his knife in the other his hands were still. He seemed frozen there, just glaring into space across the room, obviously in some deep thought.

“Mornin’, Pookie,” she said, ruffling his hair just to annoy him.

He let out a growl and leaned away from her hand before glancing over at her, his lips pressed together in a thin line. She knew the look in his eyes. Something was eating him. “What’s wrong?” He let out a non-committal hum and shrugged his shoulders vaguely, his hands suddenly fidgeting endlessly with the bolt between his fingers. “Obviously something,” she prompted him again. Daryl glanced back over his shoulder toward the cell block. “What?” Carol pressed.

He only hummed again and shrugged. “What’re ya doin’?” he asked quietly.

“Just gonna go out and haul some water. Wanna come?” she asked.

He nodded and hopped to his feet, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and sheathing his knife. He followed Carol out into the morning light and trailed behind her as she went to the waterline. As she waited for the bucket to fill she straightened up and wiped the dirt from her hands. “Are you going to talk to me or not? I can tell something is bothering you.”

Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and thought hard for a moment. He’d hardly slept. He’d laid awake on his bed roll all night, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling and tracing them with his eyes over and over in a futile attempt to distract his mind. It didn’t work.

“I just—I screwed up yesterday. Big time. And I—” he shrugged. “I dunno how to fix it. Or if I even can,” he drawled.

Carol watched the turmoil in his eyes. She crossed her arms and studied him. “Is this about the run yesterday? Did something happen out there?”

“Kinda. Not exactly.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to have to give me a little more than that to go on.”

“I just—I said some things yesterday and… they ain’t even really true.” He was staring down at his boots, and in that moment, it struck Carol how boyish he looked.

“We all say things we don’t mean from time to time. You just have to apologize,” she said thoughtfully. “We’re a family here. Family forgives.”

Daryl’s eyes shot up to hers again and he shrugged, chewing on the side of his thumbnail. “Just like that? I dunno. Don’t seem that simple.”

“Daryl, it happens to all of us. We say things out of anger, exhaustion… hunger. Fear.” She stooped to turn off the flow of the water.

“But—when ya’ve said somethin’ and—and, I mean, ya can’t unsay it. Even if ya apologize, whatever ya said is still out there,” he mused. There was a gruff rasp in his throat, the gravel in his deep voice heavier than usual.

Carol sighed and picked up the bucket. “Well, the first question you have to answer for yourself is why you said whatever it was you said in the first place. And just apologize and try to explain.” She watched his expression. He didn’t look any less uneasy. “Just try. See what happens. If it blows up in your face you can come back and let me have it,” she joked.

Daryl rolled his eyes and watched Carol head back up to the prison. He remained standing down by the fence, leaning against it, and wondering how he was going to explain away his outburst at you… wondering if you would, if you could, forgive him.

The truth was that he was terrified of something happening to you, and being helpless as he held the door while you so willingly threw yourself into danger was agonizing. And that fear had come out in a blast directed right at you, with all sorts of unsaid things behind it.

There was a shuffle near the entrance of your cell and you shot awake, sitting partially up on one elbow and barely catching a glimpse of the back of Daryl’s vest as he moved out of view. Had he been standing there looking in at you? Did he need something? You puzzled over it and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You were probably just imagining that shuffle. He was most likely just walking by. Just then you saw Rick going past your cell in the opposite direction with Judith in his arms and you jumped up, realizing you were still wearing his jacket. You hastily pulled it off and jogged to catch up with him. “Rick!” He turned. “Hey. Thanks for this,” you said, holding it out to him.

He accepted it with a nod. “You can borrow it anytime you want to take over my shift,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.

You laughed lightly. “I guess the little one let you get some sleep then, huh?” you asked, fondly stroking Judith’s soft hair.

“She did. I think she’s getting better at this whole sleep thing. Soon she’ll go straight through the night,” Rick said.

“That’s great,” you said.

“Hey, I know you were up all night but… I think there’s a bit of a pile up on the fence. If you’re rested up enough would you mind—”

“No problem,” you said urgently, grateful for a task to distract you. “I’ll get out there right away.” In a few minutes you were down at the fence, a sharp metal rod in your hand. You plunged it into a walker’s skull through the fence and immediately moved to the next one… and the next… Despite the cooler temperatures in anticipation of autumn, you were drenched in sweat. You were grateful for the ability to focus on the heaviness of the metal rod in your hands and the snarls of the walkers separated from you by nothing more than a thin barrier of chain link. It was hard work and you’d been at it a long time.

Maggie was just thinking the same thing and she came to stand beside Daryl, who was also looking out across the yard and seemed to be watching you. “She’s been out there for hours. We should tell her to come in and take a rest. Get somethin’ to eat,” she thought aloud.

“Mhm,” Daryl agreed, not looking away from you.

Maggie glanced over at him. “Well, do you wanna go and try to convince her or should I?”

The archer chewed his bottom lip for a moment before straightening up. “I’ll do it.” He headed for the far end of the yard. As he approached, he could see your skin was glistening with sweat in the sun, the hair on the nape of your neck sticking in the heat. He tried to ignore the jump his heart gave and the warmth blooming in his chest as he approached. “Ya keep at it like this you’re gonna drop out here,” he said loudly, trying to make sure you would hear him over the snarls of the walkers.

You spun in surprise, the metal rod hanging along your side, a bit of walker blood and gore dripping off the end. Daryl’s voice was just about the last one you expected to hear. You turned back to the fence and stabbed another walker. “I’m fine,” you said over your shoulder.

“Nah. Ya been out here long enough. C’mon.” You only continued at your grim work, your shoulders tensing as you raised the rod. “Ya deaf or somethin’?” Daryl yelled.

You turned and looked at him again, your expression mostly blank, except for your furrowed brow. “I’m not deaf. I’m—” you sighed and crossed your hands over your chest. “What are you even doing down here?” you asked, genuinely confused.

Daryl’s blue eyes looked away for a moment. “What d’ya mean?” He was gripping the chain link in front of him, his fingers poking through.

“I mean, yesterday. Me down here working on the fence is about as out of your way as I could get, Daryl. And now you’re here.”

You watched as he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and bit it anxiously. “That why you’ve been out here so long?” he asked.

“No, I—Rick asked me to come down and—”

“Mmm. Mhm,” Daryl hummed, his nose inclining a little. “Ya, that makes sense. You’d do anything Rick asked of ya, right?”

You gave him a confused look. His tone was so… odd, almost hostile. “What are you—”

“Yeah, I saw ya earlier. Wearin’ his jacket. Givin’ it back to him…” He felt a swell of jealousy in his chest as he thought of you laughing, your eyes fixed on Rick’s face, light in your eyes.

Your jaw dropped open. “I was—it was cold last night. I was on watch. I was taking over Rick’s shift too and he came up to check on things and left me his jacket… What are—are you—?” You were bewildered. It sounded like Daryl was jealous. What the hell was happening? One day he’s screaming at you to stay out of his way and the next he’s acting like he’s under the spell of a particular green-eyed monster. Daryl scoffed and straightened up off the fence. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it. Just you and Rick up in the guard tower. Alone,” he growled, flicking his hand in your direction.

“Are you kidding me? What the hell is going on with you?!” you asked, flabbergasted. “Not that this is even relevant or any of your damn business... and Rick’s a good man but I’m not interested in him like that. I don’t know what—”

Daryl interrupted you again. “Uh huh, ya. He is a good man. Only one here now, right?” Daryl spat back.

You were stunned. “Daryl! Daryl!” He had turned away again and started stalking back up toward the prison, but you were now infuriated and let out a frustrated growl before booking it for the gates that would let you get back into the yard.

By the time you made it, he was a good distance ahead of you, out in the middle of the grassy area and you had to run to catch up to him. “Hey!” you yelled, grabbing onto his shoulder lightly. He threw your hand off and spun around, but you were surprised to see that he didn’t look mad anymore. He looked… defeated. But now you were mad. “Are you gonna fucking explain to me what the hell is going on with you?!? I don’t know what to think! One minute you’re screaming at me to stay out of your goddamn way and the next you’re acting jealous because—what, you think I’m fucking Rick? Which, I’m not, by the way, not that it is any of your damn business.” You scoffed. “And just FYI, I don’t appreciate you trying to tell me what I can and can’t do! Now, what the hell is going on?” you demanded.

He stood there in front of you, his fists clenched at his sides, just looking back at you for a long moment, blue eyes narrowed in either a glare or a squint against the Georgia sun. He couldn’t stop looking at the neat row of stitches on your forehead and the dark bruising around them that had developed over night. His stomach twisted every time. He tore his eyes away and stared down at his boots, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I—you’re right.”

“…what?”

He sighed heavily and looked back up, meeting your eyes again. “M’sorry. Ya just—I thought I was gonna lose ya out there yesterday.”

You just continued to stare at him, confusion muddying your expression.

He chewed his bottom lip for a moment trying to come up with the right words to explain, to apologize. “Ya scared the shit outta me, pullin’ what ya did. And every time ya go out there, I can’t stop thinkin’ about what if somethin’ happens to ya. And it almost—it’s like I can’t breathe.”

You just stared at the archer, your heart continuing to race in your chest, but not from anger anymore.

“And I know it isn’t fair that I yelled at ya like I did. I was bein’ a jackass. I guess it was just how all that fear… came out. And I didn’t mean how it sounded.” Now that he had started talking it was almost like he couldn’t stop.

“Then what did you mean?” You felt like you were imagining this.

“I meant that…” he licked his bottom lip nervously and his blue eyes met yours. “I couldn’t bear it if somethin’ happened to ya.” He studied your expression for a moment, his eyes landing on the soft pout of your lips. “And I was jealous of you and Rick.”

“Daryl, there’s nothing—”

“I know. I know…” he trailed off. “But I was an asshole and then ya were wearing his jacket and smilin’ at him, laughin’, and I just—” He gulped at the restriction in his throat. “I—I wanna be that for ya.”

Your brain still wasn’t entirely registering what he was saying, but the way he was looking down at you was certainly sending jolts of electricity through you. “Be what?”

His eyes flickered between your lips and eyes repeatedly and you felt like you were waiting in anticipation on the edge of something. He shrugged vaguely. “Everythin’. Anythin’ ya need,” he said simply.

“…so, when you said that I’m in your way—?”

“I meant I can’t hardly think of anythin’ but you all the time.” Daryl was quickly losing his courage, nerves starting to take over and he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously. You were looking up at him but he couldn’t read your expression. It was seemingly blank, and finally he was so anxious he started to turn away, but your hand landed on his arm gently and he looked back at the contact of your skin on his before his eyes rose and met your gaze.

There was a small smile on your face and Daryl’s heart leapt even as he tried to prepare himself for disappointment. “Where do you think you’re going?” you asked quietly. He again squared his feet to yours, shifting his weight from one foot to the other nervously. Your hand was still on his forearm and it felt like it was sending out radiating waves of heat.

Your smile faded and your expression became more serious. “Everything you just said—is how I feel about you.”

Daryl gulped, feeling suddenly breathless in disbelief. Your hand dropped from his arm, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

“Listen, I’m on watch duty again tonight. First shift. I’ll probably be cold. Why don’t you come keep me company and maybe bring me a jacket,” you said, with a small smile.

Daryl’s heart leapt at the thought of spending so much time with you alone. He nudged his nose up in a nod and was about to leave when he felt your hand on his arm again. You arched up onto your toes and placed a kiss on his cheek, giving him a warm smile, he felt he didn’t deserve. He stood rooted in place in the middle of the grassy field, a hesitant excitement blooming in his chest, as he watched you disappear into the safety of the prison.

[stuckybarton]

Unintentional Father II

SUMMARY: Steve Rogers had always liked you, from the first time you had stepped foot in the Avengers Compound, to your no-nonsense perspective in the world. Never taking shit from anyone, especially Tony; everyone liked you, liked your son who you bring along from time to time upon the request of Pepper Stark and many of the women in the compound. So how was it possible that he was here talking to Director Fury with you, and the small little fact that he was the father of your adorable blue eyed baby. How was that even possible when he couldn’t even ask you out on a date properly? CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers x Reader; son!OMC (Grant); Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes WARNINGS: Profanities. Suggestive Themes. Possible Smut(?) Grammar Mistakes. English not being my first language. [Not Beta’d tho] WORDS: 4,118 A/N; Yep. This is gonna be 5-parts, not 3. Lol. Mini Series it is then!

MASTERLIST || TAG YOURSELF HERE

Part 2: Father Figure

To say the past few weeks was terrible was an understatement. You had to deal with a handful of things in a short amount of time all at the same time. Your baby sitter had been cancelling on you three times in the last week alone and Pepper had simply suggested that you hire Morgan's Nanny to help you out with your son. You had no other choice but to accept it, knowing there was an even bigger mess you had to deal with at the moment.

Another attack on New York had led to your apartment being destroyed. A good thing that you had Grant join you in a meeting with investors in the compound during that time, a small silver lining that the babysitter was not available at the time. It now forced you stay in the compound, upon Tony and Pepper's insistence, it also eliminated the travel time you almost always dreaded whenever you drive with your son to the Compound. Grant gets stuffy in the car and will make it known to you and to anyone else that might also be in the car with you. Silver lining, Y/N, that's what's important.

Then there was the fact that the Government was trying and somewhat failing to seize a few of Tony's project, something they were not allowed to do while Tony was alive and everyone, including you, knew that he will never hand willingly. Not able to get what they want, Stark Industries as well as the dozens of Foundations were now being investigated for reasons you were still really unsure about.

Being the Head of Finance, you were always the one being questions about the funding of the company as well that of the Avengers, even their everyday spending both on mission and post-missions were added. It also meant you were threatened day in and day out that you will be thrown in jail if things don't match up the way they should have or in the way you say they were.

You were far from scared, Tony has the best lawyers and you had known well enough in the years of working with the Stark's that you know what to say and what to omit. It was the investigation and the added work pile that had gotten to you the most.

Then the added awkwardness between you and Steve was also getting to you.  No longer was there this air of silence between the two of you, the small talks, or even the subtle back and forth flirting between the two of you. It was just a gentle smile before the other would walk the other direction. It had been going on for weeks, and as much as you would have wanted to talk to someone about it, preferably Nat or Wanda that you had gotten more close to since staying in the compound, your priority was dealing with the investigating committee and hoping to at least tear them to shreds if you had the chance.

"The audacity of those pigs." You muttered under your breath seeing the committee had now taken a more personal route to attack you.

After just finishing up the conference call with Tony and a handful of his lawyers, all you wanted to do was stab each and every single one of the committee in the eye for their questions now directed on your personal life. Grant was being placed into a situation he doesn't even know of. A situation that shouldn't even involve him to begin with.

Only a limited number of people knew about was the fact that Grant was in fact from a sperm bank. It was the Stark's, the clinic, and the Sperm Bank you had went to. How the committee had known about such a fact was still beyond you. You knew someone had let it slip and hell was sure to pay. During your pregnancy and in the following months after, everyone was led to believe that you got pregnant the traditional way before breaking up with the said father. Being private with your personal life as you were, no one had asked questions you didn't have any answers to. it brought peace to you and for your son that's a godsend to you.

"Just say the word and we can sue all of them." One of the lawyers of Tony suggested.

You nodded. This was a breach of contract and now your son was to be placed in a situation you didn't have any control over. So much for the white lie you were prepared to tell your son when he gets older. Someone needed to pay. In whatever shape or form you were allowed to dish out.

With a plan already in motion with the lawyers, they had made their excuse, leaving you in the presence of Tony in the empty meeting room.

"You know who the father is?" Tony inquired, popping a blueberry into his mouth, eyes looking at the monitors instead of you.

"No." You muttered.

You had been fixated with the idea of a child, in whatever shape or form, that the idea of seeing who the donor was would only dampen the experience. Just the idea of knowing the man would hinder in the independence you would have want to make for yourself and the family you were to decide for. A face or a name would bring more question, questions you knew should not be answered.

"I never really got around to ask, but why go through such extent?" Tony asked, attention now turned to you.

As much as they did know how, no one really knew why. You did make a name for yourself as someone that had establish the company further than it already was. The independence and tactless persona everyone believes of you to have, the judgment that was sure to come towards your son wasn't something you wanted to deal with.

"A good man is rare to come by in this day and age." You respond, seeing the disaster that had been your father, one of the reasons why having a man be a part of your family was debatable. What if they turn out to be just like him? Neglectful to a fault, and it would only leave you to pick up the broken pieces and the mental scarring that was sure to form in your son's mind, just like what had happened to you.

"In this time and age, men continue to disappoint me, No offense to Pep." You jabbed avoiding the blueberry being thrown at you by Tony. The conversation turned less serious now.

"What about Rogers, a little bit of a prude, but he is much of the goody two shoes you seem to like in your men, no offense." He jabbed right back, avoiding the paperweight being thrown at him by you.

"Why do I even try to have a decent conversation with you." You muttered under your breath before excusing yourself from the meeting room. Any longer you might just practice on Tony what you were sure to do to the people responsible for breaking the NDA.

For the first time in a while, you were free from meetings for the rest of the day. Mind already thinking of ways to spend the rest of the day with your son, who either was in the care of his new Nanny or being spoiled by his Aunt Nattie and Aunt Wanda.

The last thing you would have ever thought to see was Steve, alone with you son, back resting against his chest as he continued on with sketching. With innocent awe, this was the rare instance that you saw your son still, not wanting to interrupt Steve.

For a while you didn't want to interrupt this moment between the two. Entertaining the idea that Tony had thrown at you at the meeting room as well as the countless of opportunities he seizes when the two of you were in the same room.

When your son caught sight of you, the familiar blue hues you would never get used to seeing widen, the familiar grin on his lips only brought a smile on your own--ignoring the fact that he caught you being a creep in the corner watching the two of them.

"Mama!" Grant squealed making you widen your smile and immerge from the shadows.

After the awkwardness that had been Steve being called Dada, Grant had eventually called your name and the first word fiasco was long forgotten. It also didn't hurt to know that Grant called Tony as Pony and more disastrously Bucky was Fucky that had everyone laughing, Sam enjoying it the most, not surprisingly.

When Steve's eyes turned up towards you, it didn't escape your eyes how he had switched the page. A picture of your son and of yourself was seen. You decided to ignore that little fact for now, you were more curious with why was Steve the one watching Grant.

"Nat and Wanda were brought in for an emergency mission." Steve explained as if he had read your mind, hands resting on your son's torso as he moved as gently as possible, placing his sketchbook and pencil on the coffee table.

You could only nod, accepting the explanation. No hard feelings to either Nat or Wanda, missions were a priority, you were more annoyed with the Nanny.

"The Nanny had called in sick the last minute, Pep said." Steve had added with a smile.

"Are you a mind-reader now, Rogers?" You inquired, head leaning forward slightly, the smile on your face remained. The gentle hues of pink on his cheeks was adorable.

"Uhm, just know you well enough to know you'd put the nanny on witch trial."

"Not much of a Witch trial." You muttered embarrassed with being easily read this past few days. The investigation was really getting to you it seems. "I just don't want to have anyone else depending on to take care of my son while I'm gone." Your answer was the truth, something you were still trying to come to terms with.

It was getting harder to juggle everything all at once.

"It's fine. I was just wasting the day away myself." Steve assured eyes falling towards Grant that had his focus solely on Steve's arms. Nibble hands fisting the arm hair--Steve unfazed by the action amazing you more. "And I like spending time with Grant, it's good to have him spending time with some male-figures too."

"Still." You said finally coming to take Grant from Steve immediately. His words were unwarranted. You can take care of your own son all on your own. With or without a male-figure. Grant fussy to now leave Steve's hold. "I don't want to take more of your precious break away from you with my son. That's not your job, Steve. It's mine."

It had to be said. There was a boundary that you wanted to make. For yourself and for your son. It was not about Steve, but it was the fact that your plan was falling apart before your very eyes and you were still thinking of a way to stand back up from it. The Government knew about your son, knew how he was conceived, to be used against you if you were not careful.

"I'm sorry." Steve was quick to apologize. "I think I've said that the wrong way." He muttered with a quick sigh. "I know you're more than capable of taking care of Grant. Everyone can see it, I can see it. You're juggling between Stark Industries, the Avengers, and even your own son. I can never see anyone do the things you do--not even Pepper for that matter."

You bit your lips, hiding the smile from fighting to come out at his words. There was this flutter in your stomach all over again. Whatever it was, you did want to acknowledge it at the moment. Not when you had more important matters to deal with.

"Can I say something else instead?" He asked and you finally let out a smile, nodding at him to retract his statement.

"Can I take Grant and you out? To the park? A quick walk around Coney Islands or something?"

Was he asking you out? More importantly, why does it seem like you were the afterthought in this situation. You had been used to getting asked out, but your son was always an afterthought, never was he the one to be included willingly unless there was an ulterior motive--Steve was different. Continuously proving you wrong about men, it may seem.

Your lack of a response from you was almost an answer enough as Steve finally stood from his place on the sofa.

You blinked realizing he was about to leave before you could give him a proper answer. Calling out for his name, he refused to turned as he slowly made his way out of the room. God knows where things would be between the two of you after seeing the defeated look on his face and the words you know you can't take back.

"Dada!" Grant squeal had finally made the man stop in his tracks. Turning, a soft stern look was on his face, but his attention had been on your son.

Soft blue hues meeting stormy ocean blues.

"We talked about this, Buddy. It's Steve or Stevie." He pointed out.

"Dada!" Grant responded right back, a cheeky grin on his plump face. "Dada Tib!" he squealed finally breaking you into a fit of giggle.

Maybe it was alright to try things with Steve. It wasn't hard to like him and the constant deal breaker you had had with the other men was what they would do to your son; Steve would be more than likely to accept Grant as much as a son if you'd allow it.

"I think Coney Islands sounds like a good way to spend the rest of the day." You finally added to the conversation, Steve's head jerked towards you. "I think Grant would also like some cotton candy from the fair." You added turning your gaze towards your son again.

"Are 10-month olds allowed Cotton Candy?" Worry laced his tone further proving your point about him.

"Maybe just a little." You assured. "I'm not letting him eat the entire thing, I'm the one doing that for him." You winked.

He chuckled and nodded, accepting your response.

"I'll fetch you in an hour, is that enough time for you two?" He asked.

"More than enough, Steve." You assured. "Let's just meet back here?" You offered instead. The blush had now returned, warming your cheeks. Why does it feel like you were going on your first date all over again.

"Sure. Definitely." He nodded, the smile grew bigger on his lips before turning right back and out of the common room leaving you alone with your son.

"You're conspiring against me, Sweetie?" You teased your son peppering his chubby cheeks kisses as you two made your way back to your own room to get ready for this--date. The sound of his giggle was music to your ears and to anyone lucky enough to catch wind of.

~

Steve should not have taken Sam and Bucky's advice to heart. This date was actually going great. Far from the disaster his friends had deemed it to be. Coney Islands was, in their words, the worst place to take a mother and son. He wasn't much for rides, just like you. Grant was far too young to be in anything aside from the Ferris Wheel you two would be riding in a few moment in.

The rest of the day had been great between the two of you. Your lives outside of the compound, the lives you once had before everything changed had been the topic of discussion all throughout. Steve had learned so much about you, aside from the constant gossip that he would hear from the agents or office workers.

Some had been true, but most of the rumours about you were false. Just a couple of hours with you proves it. Seeing you far from the cold hearted, no-shit-sherlock attitude that keeps everyone on their toes, was just a breath of fresh air for him. A different side of you that makes his feelings grow more dangerously deeper than it should have been.

"What a way to face my fear of heights." You say offhandedly, eyes wandering around in line and Grant doing practically the same thing.

"It's fine if we don't go." He assured. It had been his idea to go on one, but now, seeing the way your whole body tensed as the line approached closer to the actual ride.

"Yes, Please." You muttered and the two of you were off, out of the line much to the relief of the people behind you on line. Two less people to wait on.

That's how you two now ended in a bench, overlooking the waters. Just like Steve had made perfect timing, the sun just about ready to set. The perfect way to end the day it seems.

Steve didn't think it was much of a bother as much as you did to have Grant now resting on his chest, falling asleep soundly. The 10-month old had been nothing but good companion throughout their time here.

Never once did he cry, nor did he get cranky as he had come to see a few babies in his lifetime and in the next. Every single time he was in the room, if Sam or Clint weren't laughing too loudly, Grant was never one to cry at all.

The smell of talc and a sweet candy wafted his senses, now he sort of understood Nat's constant teasing of the baby being good enough to eat. With as much gentleness as his larger hands could muster, he slowly rubbed the baby's back, soothing him even in his sleep.

"You're right, about you've said." Your words broke him from his thought. Finally turning to you, he was uncertain with what he has said. Talking all day,  what part had he been right? "Grant needs more male-figures in his life. A father-figure, even." You added finally turning to look at him.

"It wasn't my place to say that."

"Doesn't mean it wasn't wrong either." You retort right back. "Sometimes I liked to believe that my stubbornness and independence is good for my son, but it isn't."

What do he say to that. It wasn't his place to say it was true. He was just Steve, Captain America that can barely get normalcy in his own life. It was always a constant war for him, no place for his own peace and his own life after the war was over.

"I never really had a father-figure in my life. My Dad was a drunk or high, only seen him beating my mom up before leaving for the bar all over again, I had to be the father to my siblings growing up. It never really occurred to me how harming it could be if place my own son in the same fate as I did."

"You know families can be in different shapes or form, Y/N." He pointed out, being also cared for by a single mother back in the day. When his father had died in the war, it had always been him, his mother, and Bucky.

Your silence made him wonder if he said something offending yet again. Bucky had always said he'd placed himself in a situation that had him slapped more often than not.

"I know," you smiled eyes falling towards your son. "But it doesn't hurt to give Grant a complete family too."

He nodded, accepting your choice. He was too late. It would be better for Grant to spend time with his real father. You would make it work for Grant's father, and he needed to accept it.

"So where will you be taking us next time, Rogers?" you inquired finally turning  your gaze back towards the waters, the sun has now fully set.

"I'm sorry what?"

"When will the next date be?" You asked turning to look at him. A playful smile falling on your lips, making Steve's heart flutter even more. "It's always going to be a package deal when it comes to me, Steve, are you ready for that?"

Looking down at Grant, it barely scared him. What scared him was this situation.  To know that he was more than willing to care for Grant first and foremost instead of you. Maybe that's what being a parent like, to put the child's needs first before anyone's own.

"How about the dog park next week?" He suggested finally. "I think Grant would enjoy seeing a few dogs too."

You nodded, the smile on your face growing bigger, your hands now holding on to the hand rubbing on Grant's back. The familiar sparks lingered and the fact that neither of you let's go meant things would be different between them from now on.

"I'd love that." You whispered.

True to his words, for the past few weeks, if missions didn't take consume him, it was you and it was Grant. Parks, malls, and the Compound rooftop for picnics. Steve had practically done everything in the sun with you and your son. He genuinely enjoyed it.

Thing between Steve and you had also changed. You two weren't really much of an "official" couple as everyone in the Compound seem to paint you two as. But then again, Steve didn't have much experience with relationship to say otherwise. You were fine with whatever this was, as long as you could see the happiness in your son's eyes.

"Can't believe Grant's turning one tomorrow." Steve points out seeing Grant now enjoying the Captain America-themed Buggy that Sam and Bucky had given as a gift a few days ago before they were sent off to a mission.

"I still can't believe it either." You smiled resting your head on Steve's shoulders. "I don't even know if I'm allowed to celebrate with everything going on with the investigation."

Steve understood, knew a hint of what was going on. The senators breathing down you neck, now targeting your past, your son. If it hadn't been for the gag other Tony had placed, the world would have known about Grant's father when you didn't want to acknowledge his presence.

"Grant's only one once." He points out, more so knowing that the surprise party Pepper had prepared would be for nothing if you weren't in the mood for it. "Come on, it's not like you're going to throw him a big party." He tease. Pepper is the one throwing it for you

"You're right." You sighed turning to face the man. "It's not like we're going to be doing anything big, might bake him a cake or two that he can't even have."

Huh, another thing he doesn't know about you.

"You know how to bake a cake?"

"I have many talents, Rogers." You winked before your eyes fell towards his lips. "Wouldn't you like to know about them?"

Liking his lips, he knew he did. Everyone knows he did. Eyes momentarily turning to Grant, he was safe, enjoying his ride on the buggy. Kissing his mother wouldn't hurt anyone.

Cupping your face, the delicate skin against his finger tips, his mind brought him into a much darker place. A place no almost-one year old should bare witness to. Something that neither of them should do in public in the park of all places.

"Are you gonna kiss me or are you just teasing me now, Rogers?"

Leaning in, the smell of vanilla and hint of peppermint consumed him as he took a deep breath, lips gently caressing your own before it was interrupted by the shrill of his work phone.

Pulling away from you, he couldn't help but curse out, earning a quick slap on the chest from you. Wincing as he finally answered the call. Fury, of all people just had the way of ruining things for him.

"You, Y/L/N, and that child need to head back to the compound. I'm gonna expect the three of you in the meeting room in 10."

The instruction had been simple, but the momentary that came along genuinely worried Steve. What danger now lurks, was pursuing you a mistake and now a target rests on both of your back because of it?

"Who was that?" You asked finally urging Grant towards the two of you. "Another mission?"

"It's Fury." He answered, the moment was long gone now at this point. "He wants us back in the compound."

"Why?"

"I genuinely don't know."

========================

tagging:  @jessyballet

[hunterxschafersxbitch]

chasin ch. 2

small update for y’all whilst i try to get my ao3 up and running xoxo 

thank you for showing your support! i really appreciate the likes and reblogs and comments!

fez sits in the passenger seat, brow slightly furrowed, wind blowing across his face. he holds a joint between two fingers, small embers trailing past as they head home to the tune of silence. 

ashtray is stoic tonight, not unusual for him. a regular occurrence to fez (sometimes he’d swear the kid could drive better than him), the sight of a stony-faced twelve year old driving a car with facial tattoos would seem almost comical to anyone else who happened to be on the road tonight. 

fez was so preoccupied that he wouldn’t have noticed if ash had started doing the polka in a wedding dress.  

he could only think of lexi, rolling the taste of her name around in his mouth like it was candy. the individual syllables - le-xi. 

the way she’d looked tonight was positively regal. she was gorgeous, and he couldn’t get his mind off of her. 

her hair, her brown doe eyes, her lips, her smile, her laugh - they all danced around the forefront of his brain, intertwining with her scent, the weight of her hands cradling his, the slight curls of her flyaway hairs. 

honestly, he still couldn’t believe that she had followed him out after he’d just beat the everloving shit out of that jacobs kid. 

right before he had left, he had locked eyes with her, pleading, almost asking her to understand. he knew she wouldn’t be able to, that she’d gotten a glimpse into the messiness of his life. he had known that she would run. 

he just hadn’t known that it would be after him. 

she’d run towards him - a mirage of water to a dying man in a desert. and he’d drunk the sight of her in, on the cusp of succumbing to resignation that he had received yet more confirmation that his grandmother had always been right about love. 

as to what would come now, he didn’t know. fez was always able to read people. it was those instincts, the ability to predict how someone was gonna react or do next, which kept him alive in the world he lived in. 

but with her, he had no idea. 

he knew he had to see her again. 

-

lexi sat on the couch massaging her temples. the truth was, she would rather have been anywhere but here. she wasn’t able to do this - be here, all sympathy and helpfulness. a paragon saint of servitude. 

cassie had insisted on going with maddy. ‘girls time’, she’d slurred, not listening to anything else that lexi could possibly have said. not that lexi was protesting. she’d had enough babysitting for one night. maddy, also drunk, had joined in on cassie’s pleas, seeming for all the world like proverbial twins. 

so, sighing, she’d piled them both into the back of an uber and shut the door. 

lexi often wondered if cassie would prefer a sister like maddy instead - someone who was also fun, who also seemed to be truly alive and in the moment, not someone who had to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to any and every social function that cassie wanted to attend. lexi knew that she took care of cassie in a way that no one else ever would - not their friends, not their parents, not her boyfriends. she hoped cassie would appreciate it one day. 

and thus, she had ended up on the couch alone, a world removed from the scene that had played out just a couple of hours earlier. the meet cute. but then everything with nate had happened and fez- well, fez was long gone. she supposed he couldn’t have stayed, considering the police and all.

the couch was cold to the touch, a reminder that all the life inside the room had filtered out, by means of ambulance or uber or drunken stumbling. the very air inside the living room was stuffy, suffocating. lexi felt like she was stuck in her own boring life, in her own boring choices. her mind wandered back to the night’s events, and she knew in her bones that she had made the wrong decision. the safe one. the lexi choice. 

just once, she longed to make the cassie choice, to hell with the consequences. 

she’d had that chance tonight. and she’d blown it.

now she was here. ready to clean puke out of the carpet. 

she pulled out her phone, biting her lip. 

fez could be asleep. fez could be uninterested. fez could be pissed off. 

she replayed his slight confession in her head, the way he looked when he told her he thought she was pretty. no, she decided. she was gonna make the cassie choice. plus, there was no guarantee that anything could come of it. she could have the wrong number. the cell towers could be down.

hey its lexi - still want me to come over? x 

lexi’d almost had a stroke when she saw she had sent that. hell, she briefly contemplated blowing up the cell towers herself. 

but three grey dots -  those fucking dots - popped up on the screen. he’d seen it. he was replying.  lexi stared intently at the screen, not even blinking.

yeah pull up here’s the addy :)

lexi let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding.

picking the cassie choice had meant that she was halfway out the door, checking the mirror to briefly to examine her makeup. 

lexi looked herself in the eyes. this was a woman who knew what she wanted. lexi knew how he made her feel - knew that something like this was nothing she’d ever felt before. and she craved more. 

because if there was any chance that he wanted her too, she owed it to herself to find out. 

hand on the door handle, she glanced and smiled back inside at the empty living room. in an alternative world, she would have been on her hands and knees, intently scrubbing the carpet and desperately attempting to not think about the night's events. 

too late to back out now, she thought. she closed the door behind her and broke into a run for her car. anticipation had lent itself into a sudden burst of adrenaline, and made her legs feel as though they had fireworks contained within. 

___

she had arrived at fez’s so fast it was almost embarrassing. lexi had always been a cautious driver, but a few stop signs may have turned into brief pauses as she turned down deserted streets, unaware that she was following the exact ember trail that fez had made earlier. 

she sat parked outside, hands firmly on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. 

what was she doing?

she debated going home, and opened up her phone again. 

the small smiley face he had sent stared back up at her. and that sealed it. 

if it turned out he wasn’t interested in her like that, they could always be friends. at least she would know. it would hurt, sure, but the ‘what ifs’ would linger, kill her for certain. and she wasn’t going to make the wrong choice again tonight. 

she slammed the car door, straightened the kinks out of her tangled nerves, and took the steps up to his place two at a time, hand poised and ready to knock.

[unbridgeabledistances]

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

--

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.  

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing—  it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.  

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity  zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

**

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Storm's Strengthening

Characters: Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, Kaia "Bonesaw" Simpson (OC) Word Count: 1,808 Rating: M Author's Notes: I wrote this as a solo event for a roleplay. And then it just spiraled into a 36 page fic. It was originally supposed to be something smaller- drabble length pieces because I wouldn't be active for two weeks while my partner was visiting for the first time. And then... The plot took over. I'm posting it all at once so y'all can enjoy it in it's chaotic glory. Is it accurate? Not at all. Writer's liberty was used here.

Okay bye now, enjoy reading, give me feedback or let me know your thoughts because I absolutely love that. You can do that in the comments, or if you wanna send me an ask

Series: Missing In Action

Part I, Part III, Part IV, Part V

September 8th, 2022 0900 hours Location Unknown

They’d managed to find shelter the day they arrived in the abandoned buildings along the airstrip. The jet was still smoking, black smoke beginning to slow it’s ascent into the grey sky. The snow, however, had not stopped; how far north had they gone? Pete isn’t sure, not really. This wasn’t terrain he’d been familiar with. Hell, they weren’t even supposed to BE on the terrain.

A part of him wonders if Simpson will send aid, or if he’ll write them off as deserters and slap an AWOL tag on their files. Wouldn’t be the first time that mistake had been made; happened a lot back in the nineties. But there were a lot of deserters, too; men and women who were shell shocked by the violence.

His gaze shifts, settling on Jake. Jackson, he’d told him- that’s his birth name, but he likes Jake more. Sounds less stuffy, apparently. He’s from Texas, grew up in Houston; dad was an MP. Explains a hell of a lot about him, if he’s being honest.

Military brats.

He’s still asleep, curled up beneath one of the blankets they’d managed to find. His face… God, he wonders if those will scar. His nose was certainly broken, but the gash above his left eye was deep. The one across his right cheek had happened on the way down through the trees. Mav could see white in it. Deep tissue. Jake had cried when he’d cleaned it up, but he didn’t mention it. It hurts, he knows it does, but somehow, Seresin sleeps through the pain. He slept, too; listened to the wind howl outside. They’d made a little fire in the building, created a fire pit with broken cement blocks. It was good, but they’d need food.

How the hell are they going to find food here?

“You frown any harder an’ you’ll look like Admiral Cain, Mav.” Jake spoke, breaking him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t moved, but his eyes were open as he peered over at him. “We need t’move.”

“I know.”

“Snow’s stopped comin’ down as hard. We can grab some papers- like, newspapers or whatever the hell they have here. Stuff ‘em in our suits.”

“What’ll that do?” It sounds uncomfortable to him.

“Keep us warm. Paper retains heat, oddly enough. Didn’t they teach y’all this?”

“In California, where we had wildfire season?”

“... Touche. But I learned it from a man in Canada when I got stationed there.” Sitting up with a grimace, Jake looks down at himself. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Bruises?”

“From the straps, yeah.”

“They’ll fade.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Groaning, he rose to his feet. God, he was hungry. “We also need t’find food.”

“I’m aware of that, Seresin.” Pete sighed, dragging his hands over his face. Without a map-... Map. “We need to find a map.”

“Congratulations on realizing the basic needs of surviving in a hostile environment.” The blonde snarked, rolling his eyes as he left the room they’d taken residence in. “Find a map, I’m gonna grab some paper.”

The whole concept of paper retaining heat still didn’t quite make sense in Maverick’s mind as he set out to find some sort of map. Even a book of maps could help. Anything that could lead them to civilization. He rifled through a pile of books whose titles had been worn off from years of fingers drifting, dragging, clinging. Flipping open the covers, he skimmed the contents- only to find that yeah, no, this wasn’t English.

He could hear Jake tearing papers while muttering under his breath. What he was saying? He had not a singular clue. Another ten minutes of finding old books- but never a map. Mainly old flight logs, from what he could discern, and a singular cook book of what he’s almost certain was different forms of pot roasts.

Jake paused in the doorway, his head tilting as he watched Maverick. He’d managed to create a rather large pile of papers, his own jacket and pants now stuffed with them. “Any luck?” He asked, causing Maverick to startle.

“JESUS, Seresin!” He hissed before shaking his head, lips curving into a frown. “Nothing.”

“Someone cleaned this place out long before we got here.”

“No radios?”

“Nothin’.” A sigh spilled free as Maverick walked past him, going into the room he’d just left to find the pile of papers. “Old newspapers from the early thousands, but otherwise? Nothin’.”

“Recognize the language?”

“Ain’t one I studied. It ain’t Cyrillic.”

Maverick unzipped his flight jacket, brows furrowing as he stared at the papers. With a roll of his eyes, he stepped closer and grabbed some of the paper, reaching over to stuff the paper into the internal pockets of the jacket, into the open space of the flight suit, and in any pockets he could reach on Maverick.

“We learned how t’do this when I was in Canada in the middle of winter- jus’ in case we lost power at base or we got stuck out in the middle o’ nowhere.” His lips quirked into a small smile at the memories; his and Javy’s first deployment. Lucky they ended up getting sent out together.

“How long were you stationed there?” Canada’s one place Maverick hadn’t been stationed. Surprisingly.

“A year and two months.”

“That’s a decent deploy-”

Jake silenced Pete by slapping a hand over his mouth, his gaze trained over Pete’s shoulder. Slowly, he released him, pulling his hand back to press a finger to his own lips, before gesturing above.

They were no longer alone.

Hunching down, the pair creeped along the walls slowly, listening to the sound of the chopper as it approached, before…

Oh, god, they landed on the roof.

“We need to move, now.” Peter hissed as Jake nodded. Duck walking to where their fire had been, they quickly scattered the now-cold coals, gathered their few belongings, and crept towards the window to peek out. No one was on the ground, not from their vantage point, but voices were certainly above. Muffled, unable to pinpoint the language. Three men, from the sound of it.

Jake lead the way down, his steps slow, measured, cautious; they were on the third floor, with four floors above them. Seven story building, with a helicopter on top, and three men- and a pilot. If they could just get to the chopper…

“No.” Pete shook his head, as if having heard Jake’s thoughts. “We don’t have guns, they most likely do. We don’t have anything.”

“Then we need to run to the woods.”

“We’ll stick out like sore thumbs!”

“No we won’t. You got a brown jacket on, brown pants, and brown hair. You could look like a fallen log from the air.”

“... You’re good at this, Seresin.”

“I grew up in Texas.”

“As you keep reminding me.”

“My grandparents had a ranch. Cattle ranch in Northern Texas. We’d go up on the weekends; papaw taught me how t’hunt and how to survive out in the wilderness ‘cause apparently, the Military don’t teach you those things.” A glance over his shoulder at Pete, and a snort. “Guess he was right.”

“Did he serve?”

“Korea and ‘Nam.”

“Shit.”

"Military family.”

Silence settled across them as they reached the ground floor, ears straining to listen. Jake snuck forward, peeking around the corner of the broken down door. No footsteps in the snow. No one was on the ground- aside from what looked like deer tracks. Deer. He has a knife; if he could find a branch, he could whittle it down into a spear. He had good aim, always had. He reached out, grasping Pete’s arm to gain his attention. Nodding his head towards the woods, he held up three fingers.

On the count of three, they run.

Pete nodded, and shifted his stance.

One.

A deep breath in.

Two.

Breathe out.

Three.

RUN.

Snow made for shit traction, but they ran, scurrying into the underbrush without gaining the attention of the men up top. All but slamming Jake into the ground, Pete turned quickly and raised his periscope to his eye, watching the men as they stood with their backs to the woods, looking out- down at the wreckage.

He hopes the jet’s been completely destroyed.

He prays that it was.

“Mav, we gotta go.” Jake whispered, tugging his sleeve. Slowly, they managed to scoot backwards, down the little hill before they felt comfortable enough to rise up, walking. Turning, Jake squinted up at the sky. “It’s about eleven in th’ mornin’.��

“Can you tell which direction we’re going?”

“Maverick?”

“Yeah?”

“YOU HAVE A COMPASS.”

“... Shut the fuck up.” Pete tugged the compass out, staring at the arrows with a furrowed brow. “... Northeast.”

They walked in silence for the next twenty minutes, trekking through the underbrush. There has to be a town near here, certainly? And if there is, would it be safe? Would they be safe? Would it be better to head back towards the beach? And then, if they do- there could already be people there looking. Not their people, either.

No, that wasn’t smart.

Jake sighed as they stopped, settling down on a stump. He was pale, Pete noticed; the shadows under his eyes were like smears of black paint. He was in pain, without food. “The hell are we gonna do, Mav?” His was soft in the silence of the wood. “We’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no way of getting a hold of anyone.”

Pete shook his head. He didn’t have an answer.

No one was answering him.

────────────────────────

2200 Hours September 8th, 2022 Miramar, San Diego, California

“We need to figure out a search party.” Kaia spoke softly, her gaze hard as Beau nodded. “First thing’s first: figure out where the plane wrecked, and go from there. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.” Her fingers combed through his hair as he sighed. “Send someone in, someone low-flying.”

“Like who?”

“Lieutenant Albescu? He’s a good pilot.”

“We need a WSO or a RIO for him.”

“... Pull someone from reserves?”

“Like who?”

“You know who I’m thinking of.”

“I can’t pull him.”

“Slider’s damn good, and even Tom suggested it, baby.” Kaia shifted, sitting up as Beau followed suit. “And I think, if you don’t do something, Tom’s gonna come here personally and take over. He’s giving you a chance to prove yourself. Take it.”

Beau dragged his hands over his face; this wasn't supposed to happen, yet, here they were. "I will," he murmured, turning his head to study his wife. She was still just as beautiful as the day he first met her… "What would I do without you?"

"Be very, very lost. And possibly dead." Despite her soft laughter, the fear had settled within them both.

Were Maverick and Hangman even alive?

[rk-xin]

I would tell u but I have zero clue, they slept on the same bed, I think? Idk maybe they fucked or maybe they just talked about boys (eachother) or maybe its maybelline

i hear you, i see you, i respect you. heres a drabble based on your dream bc why not! (for continuity purposes, this would probably take place somewhere in-between the events of chapters 8 and 9..... so not yet where we are in canon.) enjoy <3

「 prompt(?): astutia and carys room together on a school trip. and, as always, things get... interesting. 」

cw: they make out. uh. yeah. 👍

“And much to my own dismay,” the teacher sighs, “you will get to choose your roommates for the trip.” He completely ignores the burst of cheering that comes from the students piled into the lecture room before him. “You’ll be in pairs. Choose wisely, then come to me with your assignments.”

As he prattles on about the rules and regulations regarding the field trip, Dream feels a shiver run up his spine, almost like a sixth sense, before a voice whispers by his ear, “How ‘bout it, prez? You gonna share a room with me?”

He whips around, hand reaching up to cover the heat on his ears, to meet George’s smirk head-on. Tilting his head to the side and gazing into Dream’s eyes with feigned innocence, George laughs under his breath.

“What’re you blushin’ about?” he muses, raising a brow. “I do hope the school president’s not thinking about doing inappropriate things on a school trip.”

Dream narrows his eyes at him. “I wouldn’t dare.”

George hums. “Oh, but I would. You know that.”

For his own sanity, Dream ignores the comment. “Who says we have to room together?” he queries, clutching desperately at any opportunities to escape. He doesn’t think he can survive a night with George Carys.

“Well,” George drags out, glancing around at the students who fail to hide their staring at the hit-couple of the school, “I’d say this is as good an opportunity as ever to really solidify our relationship.” When he grins, his fangs gleam. “Don’t you?”

Dream curses himself in his head. If he argues, it’ll be for naught. It’ll be suspicious. So he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and gets up. “Fine. I’ll go put our names down.”

Entirely happy with winning, George grins, leaning back into his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Attaboy.”

-----

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Carrying both his and George’s luggage, because of a bet gone wrong, Dream stands at the entrance of their room, completely flabbergasted at the sight. Meanwhile, George loses his shit right beside him, cackling laugh echoing throughout the probably-very-thin walls.

They’ve arrived in the hotel room they’re supposed to stay in for the night, assigned by the school, and Dream is staring at one bed. A singular bed. If you do the math - two people, one bed, George Carys - it doesn’t add up all that well.

The president (delicately) drops the bags on the floor, before pivoting on his heel. “I’m going to talk to Mr-”

“Oho, no, you don’t,” George cuts in, wrapping an arm around Dream’s waist and shoving him away from the door.

He stumbles on his feet, taking a few steps backwards to regain his balance. “Carys, what- are you supposing we share a bed?”

George scoffs, rolling his eyes and striding over. “I’ve had your tongue in my throat before, prez. Sharing a bed won’t be the worst thing you’ve done with me.”

The comment shocks Dream enough to have him avert his gaze and clear his throat. Sure, he and George have engaged in... activities before, but- Well. It might be because of those activities that he’s not too keen on sharing a bed with the man who might as well have spawned by the Devil’s side.

He’s keenly aware of the fact that George has closed the door, and per the itinerary, they’re stuck in their rooms until seven tomorrow morning. Which, unfortunately, leaves Dream to spend the next excruciatingly stuffy nine hours alone with George Carys.

God help him.

-----

At an hour too dark to know the difference between night and dawn, Dream lays awake in the sheets. He can’t tell if the heat he’s feeling is coming from the slow ceiling fan, the heavy blanket, or the warmth of George’s body radiating from him in waves.

He tries to focus on anything other than the body behind him - switching from listening to the ticking of the clock, listening to the small indicators of nightlife outside the window, and counting his breaths.

Too many minutes have passed, of him simply trying to fall asleep. Maybe even hours.

And when he hears George stir, he knows there’s no denying it.

George isn’t going to let him sleep at all tonight.

There’s a hum, contemplative and low, and way too close to Dream’s neck for his own good. “How many people do you think are fucking right now, trying to keep quiet?”

“That’s none of our business,” Dream answers, wishing he was already asleep. “And stop being so crude.”

Really, he needs George to stop. Because any more snide remarks about fooling around might lead to Dream thinking about fooling around, and Dream thinking about fooling around might lead to him wanting to fool around.

And he can’t have that.

“Oh, come off it, sweetheart,” George laughs, low and gravelly in the otherwise silent hours of the night. Dream tries so, so hard not to let the petname register in his head. “You love my foul mouth.”

“I really don’t.” (He really does.)

Instead of words, Dream gets a response with a familiar hand winding its way across his waist; before he can react, his back is against the sheets, and there’s a shadow hovering above him.

The only light in the room comes from a streetlamp outside, behind their closed sheer curtains, basking Dream’s view in rays of dull gold. It catches on the studs and rings of George’s piercings; on the fang-toothed grin.

And Dream can’t decide whether to focus on how pretty George is in the moment, or to focus on the fact that he’s probably really truly undeniably fucked.

George cocks his head to the side, curls following the movement. “You do know that everyone expects this from us, right?”

“They do not-”

He’s interrupted by George’s snickering. “C’mon, sweetheart, you can’t be that oblivious.” Dream can't find it in himself to answer - not when he can feel the weight of George's legs on his own, pinning him down; not when he can feel those callused fingers trail a path up along his arm. “Everyone’s well aware that we’re together tonight - and they’re more than aware that we’re together. Successful plan and all that, right?”

Dream risks a glance away. “Even if we were actually together, we wouldn’t- I wouldn’t-” Having George above him, hearing his breath in his ear, feeling their chest press up against each other - it’s all way too distracting for his brain to work. “Most people have self-control, Carys.”

“I’m not most people, prez,” he answers, and Dream can just hear the grin in his voice. And once he lets his eyes focus in the dark, he can see it too. Just as devilish as ever; just as promising.

This was a really... really bad idea.

And Dream knows it - he's very aware of it.

But with Carys, anything bad ultimately turns... well, worth it. In some way or another. (And who is Dream to fight that?)

Focused eyes mean he can see every painfully beautiful detail of George's face as he leans in; leans closer; as his dark eyes flicker down to what Dream can't mistake as anything other than his lips.

"Carys," he breathes out when he feels chapped lips against his own, voice barely audible, "the walls, they-"

George smiles against Dream's lips, the warmth of his chuckle flooding the inside of Dream's mouth. "What about them? 'fraid people will hear?"

"Of course I am, you-"

"Guess you're gonna have to stay quiet then," George taunts.

"That's-" An all-too-familiar force pushed against him completely shuts the president up, setting off all his instincts. And, after that, he's nothing but a man with his hands cupped around a soft waist, and his gut twisting into knots.

He doesn't know how long he's stuck there, dancing around to George's whim, keeping all his heavy breaths and groans repressed in the back of his throat.

The students may already know what happens behind the closed door of the president and the delinquent, but Dream sure as hell isn't going to give them audible proof of it.

He has some respect.

But, apparently, zero shame - because when he feels a slender hand snake its way under his shirt, pressing the palm against his stomach, he does absolutely nothing to suppress the choked gasp that escapes his lips.

With the infinitesimal amount of mercy in his blood that he has, George pulls back for a brief moment, if only to laugh. "What ever happened to 'quiet', sweetheart?"

Dream squeezes his eyes closed, embarrassed to no end. Oh, he really hopes whoever is in the next room is dead asleep. "Shut up," he grumbles out.

Not even the shadow of an unlit room can hide the pure red blush forming across the president's cheeks and ears. George revels in the new information.

Dream covering half his face with his hand doesn't help to hide his flush, either, but George doesn't love a barrier. So he holds Dream's wrist in his grasp, pulling his arm down to rest that broad hand on his chest.

It would be romantic, Dream thinks, to be able to feel George's heartbeat.

In any other situation.

But the one that he's currently in leaves him with nothing but hazy thoughts and a steady beat against his palm, the pounding reverberating in his ears. He can't tell where his heartbeat ends, and where George's starts.

"Foul mouth," George hums, voice husky in an effort to remain in whispers. "Let's train that out of you, hm?"

God.

Dream really should've roomed with someone else.

-----

At breakfast, Dream raises a brow when Quackity - of all people - pulls a chair up at the table and sits down next to him.

"Hey, Dream." Well, Dream's not one to complain about making friends with peers.

"Good morning, Quackity," he replies. "Did you sleep well?"

Quackity's shoulders jump with his little 'hm' noise, something in-between a shrug and a hum. "Could've been better."

Before Dream can reply with some casual response of 'that's how it always is on school trips, isn't it?', Quackity is leaning into his space, like he has a secret to tell.

"Listen," he starts nonchalantly, voice quiet and meant for purely the two of them, "next time you and ol' Georgie over there wanna be hormonal teenagers, could you, like, keep the noise down?"

Dream chokes on his apple juice.

From beside him, George snorts.

[the end. lol.]

now, as much as i'd love to tell you they did the deed, it simply does not line up with the timeline of the fic. so, sorry to disappoint, but canonically they probably just made out here. but like. feel free to imagine smth else if you really want to lmao I'm not in charge here.

hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! (yes, I did use this as an excuse to procrastinate on chapter 7. sorry not sorry.)

thanks for sharing the brainrot, lime. hope this was as good as your dream lmao <3

[its-kall-the-clown]

14 Fluff for Red Son realizing he's nursing a crush on MK

As some context this is post redemption for the demon bull family. So Mei, MK, and Red hang out a lot together now. Red Son is also an idiot. XD

Also this isn’t my most polished work so sorry if it feels rushed.

prompt list

Stop that!! (Don't stop)

Rating: PG-13 for implied sexual interactions

"I think I'm sick"

Red Son admits to the ceiling of Mei's room. They were hanging out like they normally did on days MK was training with monkey king. She was playing some sort of retro video game and he was watching till he got bored and lay on her bed thinking.

"You got a tummy ache?" Mei teased, pausing her game and he huffs rolling his eyes, and sits up.

"Don't be ridiculous" he huffs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okayyyy so what're the symptoms." Mei crawls from her spot on the floor and joins him in bed, sitting crisscrossed with her hand in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's hard to explain… sometimes when MK is gone my chest hurts " he places a hand over his heart that was beating normally at the moment.

"And sometimes, when he's around, my hands get sweaty and it feels like I'm gonna throw up and…." He watches a wide unlearning Cheshire grin grow across his friend's face. He continues on, albeit, a bit more hesitantly.

"And….sometimes I can't talk right, and sometimes when he IS around my chest hurts also?" Mei was grinning so wide she was more teeth than she was girl.

"Why are you smiling…."

"OMFG!!?? You have a crush on Mk?!!!" She squeaks excitedly and rolls around in her back as she descends into what Red can only describe as absolute madness.

"What are you talking about??!" He sputters, Mei giggles a bit longer before finally pulling together and greeting him with a wide grin.

"Dude. Your like SO gay for him. 'My HeARt hUrTs WhEn hE’s not arOuNdddd~ " she mocks him in a fake tone and he growls hitting her with a pillow..

"Stop that!" He growls.

"SToP ThAt~" she mocks back and they devolve into a pillow fight on her bed. He girns when he hits her smug face squarely with a dragon stuffie.

Soon they lay panting on her bed and the dragon girl rolls onto her stomach poking him in the face.

"So. Crushing in MK huh?"

He grows beat red again and pulls a pillow into his face and groans.

"You should tell him."

Red son sits up with a smile.

"I should!"

"Yes!!"

"So I can tell him to stop making me sick!"

"Say what now?"

He turns to Mei with a feral smile. This 'crush' or whatever she called it could be fixed. If MK was the one giving it to him. He just needed MK to stop doing...whatever he was doing to make him feel like this.

"Hold on I think you are conf-"

"Thanks Mei!" He gets up and is off to confront the noodle boy as he hears Mei shout at him from her room.

"You're a fucking idiot!!!"

-----------

He storms forward like a typhoon. Red son is a force of nature that can not be stopped, nothing could yield him in his goal or hinder him in his path. Wild horses pulling chariots could not stop him, celestials in heaven would not dare stand in his way, and even his parents (by far the scariest force of all) could not persuade him to rethink what he was doing.

He pushes past the doors to Pigsy's noodles, shoves past patrons and ignores the warning shouts from the pigman.

he had one goal on mind

"Nyyyooodle boy!!!!!!" He bellows grabbing the attention to his problem. Those perfect expression color eyes meet him and the disease in his chest grows. He's in his training clothes, clearly on his way up to his apartment over the shop so he can shower.

Why did the idea of MK showering make his heartbeat erratically? Soft shoulders and cascading water off them…

She shakes his head back and forth now back on track.

"Stop. That." He growls out grinding his teeth together as steam leaves his ears. MK tilts his head slightly. The disease grows more in his chest and he hates it.

"Stop that!!!!" He points directly at MK feeling his hair sputter and spark as his temperature rises. He thinks his face is growing red.

"I'm….not doing anything?" MK gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that quirks up on one side and absolutely obliterates Red Son on the spot.

Like a crunchy fall leaf under the heel of a boot he's crushed.

Whatever motivation he had before it evaporates quicker than a drop of water in the Sahara desert.

"Y-your haven't heard the last of me!!" He makes a quick retreat, stumbling over his own feet and taking out one of Pigsy's tables in the process.

He exits the shop faster than he entered. He needed to regroup and strategize.

-----------

"SoooOOOOOo How'd it go?" Mei asked her eyes not leaving the screen, she's playing a different video game now, and she didn't even spare him a glance when he came back as if she predicted he would fail.

"Horrible!!! All it did was make this sickness worse." He throws his arms up and paces back and forth biting his lip. Mei doesn't pause her game this time, only continuing to mash buttons as he grumbles under his breath.

She lets out A long-suffering sigh and finally pauses her game.

"Dude. I know you're behind on the lingo and stuff but a 'crush' isn't a sickness. It means you like MK. As in you want to kiss him and stuff." she explains with a shrug unpausing her game and the sound of power-ups and pixelated men punching each other continues.

Red Son halts in his tracks

He pictures kissing MK. pressing his lips to the boy's soft adorable lips. He can practically feel the warmth it would produce. He pictures MK smiling into the kiss as they awkwardly bump noses. He pictures holding MK’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walk hand and hand. He imagines the feeling of MK’s hair between his fingers as he runs his hands through it.

He sucks in a gasp, his heart beating out of time.

Of fuck.

“I’m so screwed…..”

He feels Mei patting his shoulder, she paused her game again when he was fantasizing

“Yeah, you are. But at least now you can DO something about it.” she nudges his side and he blushes a bright red and he can hear her chuckling at him

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

“Can we talk?”

MK blinks back at him looking back and forth for a moment as if he was confused by his precence. Which to be fair he DID just enter through MK’s window while he was showering and was now waiting for him on his bed.

“Uhhhhh sure?” they rub the last remaining moisture from his hair with a towel before tossing it to the floor to be added to piles of laundry they had yet to do. Red Son didn't even curl his lip up at the slob-like behavior because HOLY SHIT MK IS SHIRTLESS!!!

Of course, MK didn't even seem to care that he was only wearing grey sweatpants in his presence. Red Son guilty looked MK’s chest up and down while they searched for a sleep shirt. Working out with Monkey King has been paying off because MK was sporting some muscle. He also had a few scars from battles that only added to how attractive he was, and of course, there were the two faint top surgery scars under his pecks.

“Is this about your weird episode in the shop today?” they asked pulling him from his guilt ogling and MK pulled a shirt over his body. Damn what a shame.

“Mei says I have something called a ‘crush’ and I should ‘tell them how I feel’ in order to make the pain in my chest go away,” he explained using quotation marks with his fingers to punctuate himself. MK’s eyes widen slightly and then it's schooled quickly. They join Red Son on the bed.

“O-oh? Have you told them?” MK squirms in place and keeps his gaze cast down. He looks uncomfortable, no. he looks upset? Why would MK be upset? Was it because he broke into his room again without permission?

No not that. Although he will have to apologize later

“I’m working on that part,” he explains scooting closer to MK and he grabs one of their hands gently. This felt stupid, and he thinks his sickness will kill him with how quickly his heart is beating. He was terrified and all his symptoms were amplified by ten.

He looks into MK’s espresso-colored eyes looking for something. He loved those eyes. They showed so much in them and he SWORE they could change the whole lighting of a room.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water with his false starts. Eventually, he clears his throat and releases his confession.

“Umm well...MK. I h-have a crush on you.”

he shuts his eyes and waits for the rejection, waits to hear MK laugh with their head back and shove him away.

None of that comes.

He peaks an eye open to find MK’s face a bright scarlet red. Was that a good sign? Or was MK so angry at him that he was just building up anger inside of him like a volcano ready to blow.

“ I w-will leave now.” he pulls away ready to retreat with at least his dignity still in tack. He's pulled back violently and soft lips are smashed to his. He lets out a surprised whimper and absolutely melts into the feeling. His brain is electrified and static all at once.

He kisses back hungrily grabbing MK by the waist and pulls him closer. When they are running out of air only does MK pull away with a little breathless gasp.

“Stay the night?” They requested, placing a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and he can’t find a single cell in his body that would possibly say no. He nods numbly and MK kisses him again a smile on his lips that he could taste.

----------

“MK GET UP! YOU ARE LATE AGAIN!!”

Pigsy burst down the door jolting the demon awake from his peaceful slumber, his arms that were previously wrapped around MK pull away quickly in the process. He thinks he could stick to the ceiling with his claws like a cat in a cartoon if he jolted just a little higher.

The covers are yanked off them both before Red Son even has time to protest. Thank gods they both put underwear back on when they finished satisfying each other. Red Son is completely and thoroughly exposed to MK’s boss, bitemarks, and hickes across his chest snitching on him.

Red Son and Pigsy meet eyes and he feels a sweat break out across his neck. Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I don't know what happened here... And I don't WANT to know. Tell MK he’s got ten minutes to get downstairs.” Pigsy turns on his heel and leaves slamming the door behind him. Red Son looks over to his now-boyfriend who’s mouth hangs open with drool dripping down his face.

MK slept through all of it.

He can’t help but chuckle and kiss their forehead gently.