#guard dog box boy

[maracujatangerine]

93. Firelight

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe

The snow glittered in the moonlight. It lay undisturbed and soft like a feather down duvet all over the lawn, the trees, and the roofs of the other houses. Brutus looked despondently out the window, then paced across the room and looked out at the same view from a slightly different angle.

Master and Mistress had just left the house in a haze of sparkly red dress, fine, dark grey suit, fragrant perfume and red-bottomed heels clattering against the wooden floors.

”Down, boy! I won’t need you tonight.” Master had told him. ”This is the sort of party that will have their own security.” He’d added, with a smiling glance at Mistress Cecilia, who was adjusting an errant strand of her up-do in the floor-length hall mirror.

And then they were gone…

And Brutus worried. As usual.

The guard dog tried to convince himself that his Master knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop himself from restlessly wandering from room to room in the huge apartment.

As he was staring out yet another window, multicoloured lights from the Christmas tree falling over his face, Absalom silent-footedly appeared next to his elbow.

Today, the romantic wore a white shirt, marine trousers and a bow-tie in midnight-blue silk. A sapphire mounted in silver spilled down from his collar, catching the light in undersea reflections.

“Make a fire.” He said.

Brutus started at the unexpected request.

”But… But Master and Mistress just left. Did they really ask for a fire?”

Absalom stared out the window, then slowly turned his head to look at Brutus. Blue eyes meeting dark brown. Smooth, glossy brown hair like a waterfall framing his pale face.

”Make a fire for me.” Absalom clarified. His facial expression neutral, his voice toneless, but there was something in his eyes that hinted of this being a very heartfelt desire indeed.

Brutus was going to refuse. To tell the pet that he could do it himself, if he wanted to risk their owners’ anger. True, they had not forbidden the pets from making a fire, but they had never told them to do so either. It was hardly worth the risk, the room was warm enough already. But that hint of something stopped him.

Instead, Brutus gave a curt nod and turned to kneel in front of the fireplace. It was the guard dog’s task to make sure the firewood rack was filled, and he did it diligently.

The wood was dry, Brutus had already prepared smaller pieces of wood and strips of bitch bark in a basket next to the rack. It was quick work to build a neat staple of pieces of wood, with the kindling and bark in the centre. He could not deny a small sense of satisfaction as he lit the match and watched the yellow and orange flames eagerly catch in the firewood. Brutus carefully fed some smaller pieces of wood to the fire, guarding its progress. When he was satisfied the fire was well established, he tidied up the leftover kindling and put the matches back on their designated place.

Just as the guard dog got to his feet, Absalom came in through the door. He carried a silver tray, his back as straight and his movements as elegant as if he was serving their owners. On the tray was two thick glass cups filled with steaming wine that gleamed a deep ruby red in the firelight. There was also a plate with gingerbread cookies decorated with white icing in shapes of hearts and snowflakes.

With a flourish, Absalom held out the tray to Brutus. The large man just stared at him quizzically.

”Don’t worry, darling.” Absalom said. ”There are lots of leftovers from their get-together on Wednesday. They will never know.”

Brutus still hesitated. Their eyes met. Absalom smiled, just a little. Brutus nervously pulled a hand through his black hair, but finally took the proffered cup.

The romantic gracefully sank down in front of the fireplace, placing the silver tray with the cookies on the floor. He took a drink and cradled the warm glass cup in both hands. Brutus sat down next to him and sipped his drink cautiously.

The mulled wine was warm, and sweet, and strong. The taste and scent of it filling his senses. It was rare that Brutus tasted anything like it, and for a moment, he was completely absorbed.

When he glanced over at Absalom, the other pet was looking into the flames. The orange firelight reflecting in his eyes. His face was impassive, his breathing calm, but silent tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Brutus watched him with astonishment. He’d never seen Absalom show emotion in any way like this before. The guard dog wanted to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. Absalom’s quick wit could scratch like cat’s claws, if he was displeased.

He couldn’t just ignore it, either.

Slowly, Brutus reached out and laid his muscular hand on the pet’s thin shoulder. Absalom stiffened. For a second, Brutus thought the romantic might whip around to hit him.

Then, Absalom raised his own hand, thin and pale in comparison, and put it on top of Brutus’ hand on his shoulder. For a moment, they sat together and just watched the fire.

*

Fun Facts:

To drink warm, spiced wine has a long history, even the ancient Romans and Greeks did it. There are different versions of mulled wine across the world. In the Nordic countries, we drink glögg. It is a quite sweet version of mulled wine that most often is served with almonds and raisins.

Tag List Part 1:

@cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[cepheusgalaxy]

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[mostly-imagines]

Guard Dog vol.I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s girlfriend

4 in 1 blurbs

vol. II

warnings: mildly creepy guys, standard protective bf methods

Jason’s good at shutting people up very quickly. You’d almost call it a talent.

He shuts you up with a kiss when you get stuck in a rant, or with a hug to calm your worried rambles.

And when you’re in an incorrigibly teasing mood, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and carry you back to your bedroom to really shut you up.

With other people though, he has…different methods.

You sit atop your kitchen counter, trading lazy kisses in between giggles with your boyfriend. He stands in front of you, hands massaging your thighs as he leans in for another. You happily oblige.

You break off the exchange to lay a series of sweet kisses on that spot under his jaw.

His head tilts back, letting out a groan so low you nearly miss it. “Sweetheart…” he warns.

“Sorry…” you resign with a sheepish smile.

A knock at the door bursts you out of your shared reverie. You press a kiss to his knuckles and hop down to start setting the table.

Jason gets the door, greeting the pizza guy with a nod as you shuffle around the kitchen. The delivery guy hands him a receipt, asking for a signature.

Jason uses the door as a surface to sign, giving the delivery guy an apt view into your apartment, where he sees you getting out plates in the kitchen. More noticeably, he sees you in your boyfriend's shirt, which rides up just a little bit when you stand up on your toes to reach the top cabinet. The lift of the shirt exposes the bottom of your underwear, though it falls back into place again just as quickly.

Now, lucky for this guy, Jason’s facing the door and does not see him checking you out in your own home. Unlucky for this guy, he has wildly misread the vibe of your relationship. Or at least your boyfriend.

“Man, how do you get anything done around here?” He jests.

Jason looks up at him, and the pizza man’s eyes tear away from your legs to meet his hard gaze. It does not take him long to realize his mistake.

“Try again.” Jason behests, arms crossed in front of him.

The pizza boy’s eyes go wide and he shakes his head, stuttering. “I—uh, I said have a good night.”

“Mhm.” He grumbles.

The pizza guy hands Jason the box with shaky hands and scuttles back down the hallway.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem to notice the exchange, but even so, your boyfriend still glowers down the hallway after him.

“Jay?”

His attention snaps back to you, demeanor changing instantly. “Yeah, baby?”

You’re sitting in your usual spot at the table, his chair empty and waiting just around the corner from you.

“Come sit.” You say, with eyes that might as well be hearts.

He gives a reassuring nod and kicks the door shut behind him.

You and Jason are sitting on the floor in his old room at the manor, your legs thrown over his. You lean up against his bed, asking him about posters on the walls and trinkets on the shelves.

His knee is propped up and your arm dangles across it, his hand in yours. He plays with your fingers and periodically leans forward to leave a kiss on them.

You’d just woken up less than an hour ago after spending the night post-gala, and it’s a peaceful, if not unusually quiet morning.

Dick shouts your name from another room, audibly booking it towards you. Yeah. That’s more like what Jason remembers.

He grumbles some annoyances, dropping his head against your intertwined hands.

Dick bursts into the room, clearly incredibly excited.

“What’s up, Dick?” You ask, calm as ever. Jason lets an unseen smile creep up, head still down.

Dick’s practically jumping up and down, “You gotta see the shit that Tim just found in the cave!” His face drops as he directs his gaze to Jason, “You’re not invited.”

“Thank God.”

Dick ignores him and grabs your wrist, yanking you up from the floor. This is one place where he differs from Jason—he’s not always quite so aware of his own strength.

His grip doesn’t hurt really, but it’s firm enough that you imagine there’ll be bruise marks there later.

“Hey.” Jason calls out, nodding his head to where Dick is holding your arm. “Ease up.”

Dick follows his gaze and immediately loosens his hold, apologizing to you before pulling you along once again (this time much more gentle).

You grin at Jason as he tugs you out the door, him returning it with an endeared smile as he watches you go.

Fuck he loves you.

Jason had a decent break from his night job for once, and was happy to let you drag him out to a bar for a little date. You’d been linked at the hip for most of the night, his hands maintaining their ever present home on your waist with yours rested on his thighs as you told him about your hectic day.

He’d usually prefer to stay in bed with you for as long as possible when he gets time off, but you’d looked so excited asking him to go out with you—he never stood a chance.

You look up into the mirror as you wash your hands, a strand of hair falling into your face as you do. You push it back behind your ear and smile to yourself, recalling the several times Jason had wordlessly done the same throughout the night as you rambled.

You make your way back to the bar, smile immediate on your face when you see your boyfriend. It gets replaced rather quickly though, when a man slides in front of you, cutting off your view of him.

“Hey there.”

You have to take a step back because of how close he decided to stand to you. He looks sober (enough) but wildly overconfident in whatevers about to happen.

"Let me buy you a drink, pretty thing."

Jason calls you pretty thing sometimes. It makes the blood rush to your cheeks and an inescapable smile creep up on your lips. When this guy says it, it makes you literally frown.

"Oh no, I'm okay, my—"

"You seem like a dirty martini kinda girl." He expertly ignores you, clearly trying and failing to make some kind of innuendo there.

Jason's sitting back against the bar, watching the interaction carefully. You still can’t see him, but he’s close and you can rest comfortable knowing he’s looking out for you.

With that reassurance, you don’t play this out quite as carefully as you would if you were alone.

"Look, I don't want a drink from you, thanks."

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to him because his face contorts quickly to mock-disgust that you figure is really just embarrassment.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch just ‘cause—”

You try to sidestep around him, thoroughly done with this interaction, but he grabs your upper arm harshly, pulling you to an abrupt stop.

Jason stands up real quick, yanking the guy backwards by his collar before you can even process what's happening.

Now, you know that Jason is an objectively intimidating guy. There's not many people that will come face to face with that absolute unit of a man and still decide to keep on trying him. However, you tend to forget that when you're so used to your gentle giant that only ever speaks to you kindly and touches you softly.

But his intimidating status becomes very apparent when the guy spins around, looks up at Jason, and immediately takes four steps back. He actually almost bumps into you in the process, not doing anything to tame Jason’s acute distaste for this man.

"Listen to me—back the fuck off before you get hurt."

“She—”

“I don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

The guy hesitates.

“Now.” Jason adjusts his posture to stand at his staggering full height, clearly with no qualms about putting him back in his place.

That does it for him, the man stumbllng away with half-committed mumbles of “whatever” or “something something lame anyway.”

Jason watches him until he walks out the door, before turning back to you.

He delicately takes your upper arm in his hand, pulling your sleeve up to search for bruising. But as harshly as he had grabbed you, it didn’t have the time to cause a bruise before Jason intervened.

“What’d he say to you?” Jason asks, brow furrowed as he inspects your arm.

“Nothing very interesting.” He looks at you mildly.

You smile and comb his hair back from his forehead, “Don’t worry about him. I’m good.”

He lets your arm go, and exchanges it for holding the back of your head, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You take his other hand and guide him back to your seats.

“Besides,” You look over his shoulder and let out a little shocked gasp. “Guess who just walked in.”

He gives you a questioning look before his face slacks, eyes widening in realization.

“No…” And you smile so brightly it almost makes up for what's coming his way.

You redirect your smile over his shoulder and give a wave to the door. Jason swigs down the rest of his drink, hand finding your waist once again.

“Jaybird!”

Jason’s still exhausted from patrol last night but he’d insisted on going with you to the bar to meet your friends. You’d tried to convince him that it was okay to stay in and rest tonight, you’d be fine. But it was a losing battle.

You suspect it has something to do with him not liking when you go out in Gotham at night, especially when you’re drinking.

So he hangs out in the background of the buzz, with you sat in front of him, in between his legs.

You’re talking it up with Roy, who’s been making jokes about how Jason’s “moody ass” tricked you, “the ray of sunshine” into this relationship somehow.

You laugh, taking a sip of your drink. “Right, ‘cause you and Kori were in love at first sight.”

"Oh, fuck off." Roy jeers.

He doesn't say it with the cadence of a joke, but it is.

You know he's joking, he knows he's joking.

Jason, who very well may have been tuned out of the conversation up to that point, does not seem to know he's joking—or he doesn't care.

You don't need to look behind you to know that your boyfriend is in defensive mode, though the look of regret mixed with amusement on Roy's face gives a solid hint.

You hold your hand out to block Jason his path as he moves forward. He lets you stop him, though you're certain he could get past you without so much as blinking, no problem.

"Right. My bad, forgot your guard dog was here. Don't fuck off." Roy backtracks, hands up in front of him.

Jason just rolls his eyes, slouching back down. You reach behind you for his hand, giving it two squeezes. You know he’s tired, so much so that he almost punched his best friend for making a typical joke.

“Five more minutes, okay?” You say softly over your shoulder.

He nods at you blearily, and ducks his head down to rest on your back. You adjust your posture a little bit to make it more comfortable for him and continue on talking, his hand still in yours.

If he hadn’t fallen asleep so quickly, five minutes would’ve been five minutes, but instead it became something more like fifty.

He goes through patches where sleep isn’t always so welcoming, a phase he’s been in for the past couple of weeks. You’d been waking up to find the bed half empty, your boyfriend resigned to doing research on cases in an attempt to at least be productive while he’s awake.

You can’t protect him in the same ways that he protects you—you’re not a fighter or necessarily “intimidating.” But you can protect him like this, in these little ways. Letting him nap on you, making him close the case files and rest with you, holding his hand throughout the night so that when he inevitably has nightmares, he knows immediately that you’re still with him. That he’s safe.

So if he can get some much needed sleep while only costing you a stiff back tomorrow, you’ll happily take that deal as many times as he needs.

vol. II

[captain-huggy-bear]

Guard Dog

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for the Washington Capitals game (Jan 2025), anger/conflict, derogatory commentary towards Reader

Summary: You are feeling particularly protective of Quinn after the game against the Washington Capitals and run into Dubois.

Notes: I was ready to throw hands at Dubois for purposefully seeking out and trying to hurt Quinn so...

Apologies to Dubois but he's now my arch nemesis and if I was actually dating Quinn I know I'd hold a grudge, sorry, I'm sure you're a great guy but...not today. Reminder that I am writing a fictional version of these people and what I do write is not representative of them in real life. Don't sue me, Dubois, this is fictional you, not real you. 👀

Also I don't think Quinn is generally violent or aggressive but I do think that if he felt someone he loved was being treated in a way that was disrespectful/aggressive, that he wouldn't avoid conflict. Protective boy in my eyes.

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

You wanted to say that you were used to watching how violent hockey could get, especially when that violence was directed at Quinn, but that would be a lie.

Watching as Quinn was practically attacked by Dubois, watching him be targeted had you gasping and jumping to your feet in an instant. The way he knocked Quinn to the ground had your heart thudding in your chest and you'd gotten to your feet instinctively like you could physically go out and defend him, like you had any ability to do something when in reality you were completely helpless, stuck behind glass.

That intense feeling of protectiveness had only increased as Quinn was pulled from the scrum by Dubois again like he was being hunted down, targeted. It grew almost unbearable, a protectiveness mixed with anger, as you watched Quinn try to keep his distance, shoving away from Dubois even as he tried to hold him close, as Quinn tried to protect himself while avoiding roughing himself, only to receive a penalty anyway. That anger grew watching the way Quinn was stuck in the penalty box, the way he was desperate, standing, wanting to get out after his 2 minutes, only to be stuck because play was ongoing for another 3 minutes.

You had never hated a player before. Players had upset you in the past, annoyance at the way they'd dealt with something or how they'd behaved towards Quinn, but you'd never seen someone so determined to hurt your boyfriend. It was that sheer targeting, the way Dubois followed Quinn, gunned for him for no reason, especially given he was still sporting a hand injury, that had you hating him immediately. It had you itching to say something, do something for the entirety of the game. You could barely concentrate on the actual game, too amped.

You couldn't help the way your leg bounced angrily the entire game, the way you bit your lip, the way your mind ran through all the things you'd like to say to Dubois about his behaviour. That feeling didn't disappear as the game ended and you waited outside the locker room for Quinn, if anything it grew from how hard you tried to suppress it. You felt a little like a ticking time bomb.

That anger boiled over the moment you saw Dubois coming down the corridor towards you after the game. Dubois was freshly washed and changed, laughing with his teammate, Roy, like he hadn't been trying to hurt your boyfriend for half the game. You tried to keep your comments to yourself, but couldn't keep the angry glare, the deep scowl, from your features as you leant against the wall, arms crossed. You knew you were giving him the evils, that if looks could kill he'd have died five times over, but you couldn't force your face into neutrality, not when you felt that buzz of anger in your chest. It was dangerous for him to target Quinn like that, it was unfair, it made you wish you were 6ft 8 and built like a brick shit house so at least you could throw a punch in Quinn's honour. Instead you had been absolutely helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

You heard it muttered, whispered, an exchange of 'what's her problem?' and 'that's Hughes' girl...', that had you almost vibrating with anger. Dubois should have left you well enough alone, should have read the room and let you cool down. He shouldn't have assumed he could mess with you in that moment. But, since when have hockey players ever missed a chance to chirp?

You watch him stride up to you, a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble and only served to push more adrenaline through your body.

"You got a problem with me?"

"Walk away." Your voice is clipped, short, an attempt to maintain a sense of decorum, to control your anger because the last thing you want is to embarrass Quinn by getting into a fight with a rival hockey player on the same night his team lost a game. The last thing you want to do is make matters worse and in the words of Marie from Aristocats 'ladies don't start fights'.

"Or what? You going to cry cause I grabbed your little boyfriend?" His sneer reminds you of every bully you've ever known your entire life. Brutish, stupid, and with a deep desire for power and control, the sort of desire that causes them to be nasty, be mean, to try to hurt people because it shows that they can. It only makes it harder for you to control your feelings, nails digging into the palms of your hands as you clench your fists tight, like that will help keep you back.

"I'm telling you to walk away because I will not be responsible for what I say or do if you don't. Walk away." It was probably comical to him, the way you stepped forward and squared off with him, a man well over 6ft tall. You were relatively small in comparison. It didn't matter to you though, all that mattered was the fact he'd gunned for Quinn, for your lovely, kind boyfriend who avoided fights at all costs and tried to always be a reasonable, decent player. Your boyfriend who tried to play clean. Your boyfriend who was still injured. Your boyfriend who was under an insane amount of pressure right now. Your boyfriend who had only just come back off of rest for his injury.

"You've got some balls on you, lady, more than Hughes does at any rate."

You're certain your eye twitches, certain you're one bite away from causes your bottom lip to bleed. Certain that you've dug half moon circles into your palms. Certain that murder doesn't seem quite that bad of a crime right now and that you could survive prison.

"Walk. Away. Now."

"So you're the man in your relationship, huh? Is Hughes your pretty princess?" It's the hateful, misogynistic attempt to demean Quinn that causes you to snap. It's his refusal to just walk away, the goading, the pushing, the way he steps closer into your personal space, leers over you in an attempt to intimidate you with his size that finally does it. But, he doesn't seem to realise that you're too angry to be intimidated, you're not really thinking about yourself, about the situation, about the fact he's twice your size. So it doesn't matter that he could break you if he wanted to. It doesn't matter that he should be scary. He's not in that moment, because you're simply too angry, vibrating with rage.

"You're a vile, disgusting human being,y'know that? He's still injured, you fucking knew that and fucking went for him? What the fuck did he do to you? You trip him, you gun for him, you then try to pull him from the scrum?! What the fuck is wrong with you?" You could each infraction off on your fingers as you move into his space and push the two of you further into the centre of the corridor.

Maybe it's how loud you are or maybe it was just good timing, but Quinn and Boeser step out of the locker room just in time to see you yelling in Dubois' face, to see the grin on his lips like he's enjoying it. It's honest to god fear, mixed with a protectiveness that he always feels for you, that has Quinn practically sprinting the short distance to you.

He's pretty sure you don't realise you're shaking with anger or how close you've gotten to Dubois, practically nose to nose, leaning up while he leans down, until his arms are wrapping around you and pulling you back against his chest. Even in his arms you're shaking with adrenaline, eyes fixated on Dubois like a look is enough to put him in the ground.

Dubois' eyes shift to him, and Quinn can't help the set of his own features, the stern glare that he directs to the other man even as he's smirking back at him. If anything the way he seems to be enjoying this makes Quinn's expression sterner.

"Keep your little plaything on a fucking leash, Hughes." The grin Dubois sends his way is toothy, predatory, the sort of grin that tells Quinn he knows what he's saying and he knows what reaction it'll get. It doesn't stop Quinn's shoulders from tensing, it doesn't stop the tightness in his chest and it certainly doesn't make it easier for him to keep his usually cool head.

"What did you just say?" It's almost whispered, low, quiet, and it makes you stop shaking in Quinn's arms because there's something deadly about it, something that tells you not to push him right now even when you're not the one it's directed at. Something that makes you still in surprise.

"I said keep your little plaything on a fucking leash."

There's a prolonged pause, one in which Quinn looks back behind him, eyes finding Boeser, a silent sort of conversation happening between them, an agreement reached.

"Brock?"

"I got her." The blonde man steps forward as Quinn turns you in his arms and pushes you gently to Brock, Boeser pulling you into his own arms and away from the other two men.

"Quinn?" You're not sure what's happening other than the fact that the fear is starting to set in. All that anger, the adrenaline that had kept you so focused on Dubois, had started to fade. It left behind a shaky sort of anxiety, as reality hit you, that this was not just a simple argument anymore.

You gasp and move back into Boeser as you watch Quinn turn back to Dubois and just as suddenly grab him by the collar of his suit jacket, slamming him back against the wall. While Quinn is shorter, he's certainly not small or weak by any stretch of the imagination and Dubois doesn't expect it as he's shoved full body into the wall behind him, his feet struggling to keep up with the harsh movement backwards.

Quinn is nose to nose with him, glaring up at him with a look you can only describe as murderous, "You ever talk about her like that again and I will break your fucking nose. You don't ever talk to her or about her like that. Do you hear me?" The interesting thing about it, is how Quinn doesn't have to yell. In fact, his voice low, but it's the edge to it, the way it feels sharp enough to cut that makes his feelings clear.

"Oh? Now you think you're a big man, what you gonna do with that hand of yours?" Dubois' eyes shift to the brace on Quinn's left hand, the one that you can see trembling under it's own grip. It upsets you, that he's hurting himself for you, that you started this, as much as part of you preens under his protection.

"My right hand is just fine, Dubois. Yours won't be if you don't back the fuck down." Maybe it's the way Quinn's eyes narrow. Maybe it's the way his teeth grind together. Maybe it's the way he shoves Dubois even harder into the wall or maybe it's something else entirely, but something seems to make Dubois realise that Quinn is serious. That Quinn has every intention of fighting for you if he has to, if the disrespect is not corrected, if Dubois doesn't back down.

Maybe Dubois simply doesn't care enough or maybe he's intimidated by Quinn because he mutters, "Whatever...", hands shoving Quinn's away from his collar, one last glare exchanged before he and Roy walk away, whispering the entire time.

You're practically shaking in Brock's arms, Brock who releases you gently once Dubois and Roy walk away, Brock who backs away to the locker room with one last look to Quinn, leaving the two of you by yourselves.

Quinn's shoulders drop, relax as he watches the two men turn the corner and disappear out of sight, before green eyes shift to you, features softening into something affectionate and gentle. A stark contrast with his expression mere moments before.

He's the one who reaches for you, stepping until he's in your personal space, hands resting on the sides of your face like he thinks you might physically be hurt.

"You okay?" His voice is soft, sweet, as his thumbs brush your cheeks, green eyes darting over your features, trying to assess how you are and if he needs to chase after Dubois and teach him a lesson or two.

Quinn will openly admit he's not a fighter nor does he want to be, but the strong surge of protectiveness in him overrides his usual aversion to violence. He'd fight anyone for you, if it meant you were respected, protected, safe. He doesn't care that Dubois gunned for him out on the ice, all he cares about is the way he got into your face out in the corridor.

"Am I okay? Are you okay? He almost took you out on the ice!" Even as you say it your voice is shaky. Quinn knows you better than he knows most people, he can hear that shake a mile off, knows that that shake is a sign you're not okay, that that shake usually comes before a break.

It's why he doesn't answer you, it's why he pulls you fully into his arms, wrapping them around you until you're chest to chest.

So he asks again, "Baby, are you okay?" Only to feel the way your body starts to shake aggressively in his arms, like your body has just caught up to the situation, like the adrenaline has fully left your system, leaving only the after effects.

His voice is soft as he mutters to you, "Oh, you really worked off instinct, huh? Just now realising you nearly fought a 6ft 2 hockey player for me?" Quinn's quick to pull you tighter against him, a full body crush, rocking you side to side as his cheek presses into your hair. His hands rub up and down your back, attempting to sooth you as the reality of it all fully kicks. As you realise how stupid it was of you to do that, how scary the situation actually was, how you should have just walked away.

"Fuck...did I just really do that?" Your voice is shaky, almost wet, like you might start crying.

"Uh huh...yeah, you did, baby." His voice is almost amused, sympathetic, now the worst of it is over Quinn can't help but find your actions endearing. The way that you, of all people, decided you'd go toe to toe with a massive hockey player on his behalf.

"Fuck." You press your forehead against his chest, letting out a shaky breath as he rocks you from side to side. You don't regret it, not really. You'd defend Quinn to the death, you love him and that meant protecting him, just like he'd protect you. But, you have to admit, it wasn't perhaps your smartest idea or your finest moment.

"It was kind of hot, baby, but please don't do that again. I nearly had a heart attack seeing you nose to nose with him." Quinn's actually certain his heart stopped when he walked out of the locker room. You'd seemed so...fragile in comparison to Dubois and while he knew you, knew you weren't weak, it had scared him. The idea of you getting hurt was one of his nightmares, even more so you getting hurt because of him.

You pull back as far as he'll let you which really isn't very far, tilting your head back to look at him, "You nearly fought him for me..." your voice is almost disbelieving like you can't understand why he'd step in like that for you, his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I did.." Quinn's smile is soft, loving, eyes crinkling at the corners as you practically gape at him.

"But you don't fight." You look so confused that it almost breaks his heart because who taught you that you were unworthy of protection, who taught you that the people who love you wouldn't step in when needed?

"I'd fight for you. Any day. Any week. Any time. I'll always fight for you, baby. You're my girl." He says it like it's just a fact of life. Like 2 +2 = 4 or that water is wet. He says it like it is the most natural thing to exist.

"But...you don't like to fight." He hates fighting, you know because whenever he gets in one on the ice or has to break one up, he complains when he gets home. You know because everything about Quinn is gentle and soft, always slow to anger and quick to find a diplomatic solution.

"Yeah, I know." Quinn smiles at you amused, "But I love you and if the choice is between protecting you or not fighting, I'm always going to pick you. That's what you do when you love someone. You'd protect me, right?"

"Of course." You don't even hesitate because it's like breathing, that instinct to look after him because you love him because he's your person.

"Then there's your answer, sweet girl" He watches the way you nod like it is starting click, like it makes sense. His hands brush cross your shoulders, tugging you into his side, twisting so his arm is slung over your shoulders. Your shaking has long since stopped and whatever anger both of you felt has since faded under the sweetness of realising you're both loved, both protected.

"You wanna go back to the hotel? Enough excitement for one night, huh?"

"Mmm, yeah...You're okay though, right? Your hand?" You shift under his arm, eyes looking to his left hand and the brace there, watch the way he flexes his fingers as if to remind himself he can.

"I'm okay, baby, especially knowing I have you to fight my battles for me." Quinn kisses the crown of your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose as he pulls you tighter to his side.

In that moment the hotel room sounds great, home would sound even better, but you think home might actually just be Quinn and wherever he is.

[softaestluv]

Guard Dogs

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 of 5, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

Tags: Angst, Fluff, & Eventual smut

Summary: You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

The weekends, for Simon, tended to go the same: mundane and boring.

In other words, alone.

Simon didn’t cross your path on the weekends. He still walked Riley in the early mornings, but the weekend seemed to be your rest days. Slept in a little longer than usual, didn’t go on your runs. Opted for slow mornings in bed with a cup of tea before getting up for the day. Something Simon wished he had: lazy Sundays. He couldn’t sleep in even if he tried. Riley woke him up at the same time every day, demanded his morning walk.

The weekends, for both of you, were reserved for chores. Simon did his yard work in the beating sun and worked on his bike. You cleaned your house and baked an abundance of goods. Baked goods he could always smell when he was in his garage working. Wafted through your opened windows, let the breeze blow through your curtains. Always smelt so fucking good, had his mouth watering, even more so because he knew it was from you.

He always wondered who you baked for; why you were always cooking, but didn’t ever have any guests over to share with. Maybe you ate all your sweet treats yourself. Indulged in sugary items too often on the weekends and that’s why you ran during the week. Would explain the reason your thighs were still so thick.

Though if Simon had it his way, you wouldn’t feel the need to run, he’d cherish every plump curve, dig his teeth into your fat. Feed you the pies himself, lick the cream from your mouth, kiss the taste away. Knew it would taste better from your lips anyways.

Your opened windows were a luxury of their own. Not only did Simon get to smell your cooking, but he also got to see you clearly. The glare of glass a nonexistent barrier, cream curtains served to accentuate your beauty as they billowed in the wind instead of hiding you behind a thin layer of fabric. Loved the pretty view you gave him. But did you have to keep them open so late, love? It’s dangerous, you knew better than that.

It’s okay, you didn’t have to worry. Him and Riley would look out for you. Keep you safe, always would.

Though this weekend you seemed to have other plans. Showed up on his doorstep, a pleasant surprise for him and Riley. Had Riley barking excitedly at the sight of you.

“Hi, Simon. Hi, Riley!”

“Oh, hi lass.”

“Um, I was just wondering if you were busy?” Bashfully tangled your fingers together behind your back.

“No, why?” — Never for you.

“Could I borrow your strength for a minute, then?” You asked, turning to gesture to your driveway, “Got a new dresser in the mail, but I’m not exactly strong enough to lift it into my house.”

“Of course.”

You ha ve him a pretty smile when he stepped out to follow you, “Don’t know why they left it on my driveway, but that’s okay. I’m lucky to have you as a neighbor.”

“Happy to help with anythin’ you need.” Simon hummed, hoisting the box over his shoulder, “Just say the word.”

“Be careful, Simon!” You yelped, “It’s heavy!”

“Ts no problem,” He said, shrugging the box into a tighter grip.

And truthfully, it wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to impress you. Wasn’t trying to prove his worth to you. He’s just lifted heavier things before is all.

He followed you into your home as you guided him to your bedroom and instructed him where to place it. Asked him to excuse the mess, but there wasn’t one; he had seen you cleaning it this morning. Though if there was a mess it’s not like he would actually care, not when you were the center of his attention. Everything else faded away behind your plump cheeks and doe eyes.

“You gonna put it together on your own?” He asked when you began to thank him.

You pinched your lip between your teeth, pushing on to your tippy toes, “Maybe?”

“I’ll go get my toolbox.”

So, he spent the day building the dresser for you. Had assumed you would leave him be, but you sat on your bed while he worked on the floor. Asked if he wanted some help? Course not, told you to sit and relax.

Help? From you? No, don’t worry; he’d do everything for you, pretty bird.

So you did, made him tea and watched him work. Left the room every once in a while to attend to the food you were cooking in the kitchen. Filled the space with questions about his work, but he kept the answers short and sweet. He talked about his team rather than the work they were doing. Couldn’t exactly tell you everything about his occupation, what kind of man would you think he was? Would you even let him inside your home to help?

He chose to ask about your work instead, it was much easier to talk about teaching primary school students than his field of work. Though, this didn’t seem to be a problem for you, willingly told him about your classroom. Chuckled along as you told him stories about your young students, wasn’t surprised by the antics they were up to.

It made sense that a sweet girl like you worked with children, couldn’t be more different than himself. Had his own stories to share about Soap and Gaz. Made you giggle along, said you wanted to meet them, they seemed fun!

Maybe one day, he told you— but for now he’d keep his bird to himself.

Simon might’ve took longer than needed to finish the dresser, but he wanted to spend as much time with you as he could. Didn’t know the next time he’d find himself inside your home. Why would he rush it? So, he helped you move items onto the dresser, books and vases handed to him, any reason to stay longer, to help.

Though, you surprised him just as you did earlier that day. Asked him if he would stay for dinner as a thank you. And who was he to say no?

Could’ve cried when you placed a warm piece of chicken pot pie on the table. Perfect golden baked crust, made it from scratch— you had told him, but you didn’t need to, he knew.

He had a deep love for food, craved sustenance after grueling work on base. Kicked his ass every single second, tired body cherished the delicacy. He wasn’t even being dramatic when he groaned in appreciation at the first bite. Cleared the plate in seconds, didn’t even feel ashamed when he looked at your still full plate.

Not when you exhaled a quiet laugh, soft blush decorating your cheeks, “Was it good?”

“Bloody delicious,” He rasped, licking his lips clean, clinging on to any remnants of the taste.

You don’t give him much time to dwell on it, to crave more. Scooped a new piece into his plate for him without a second thought.

“Yeah?” You huff shyly, “Eat as much as you want.”

He eats more than his share, doesn’t even really register that he’s in your home having dinner with you. That his balaclava was pushed up to his nose, ugly scars on display. God, where were his manners?

But when he looks at you across the table your eyes just glimmer, smiling sweetly at him as you encourage him to get more before continuing your story.

You send him away with a container of leftovers and a baggie of pastries. He tried to protest because he already overstayed his welcome and ate half your pie. But you insisted, shushed him as you promised it was no big deal, what would you have done without him there to help? Tomorrow’s Monday anyways, eat it for lunch while at work!

When he crosses the street and returns to his home, it feels awfully quiet. Once again behind the glass barrier.

Lonely. Cold.

Even Riley at his feet, tucked into his side when he crawls into bed doesn’t quite warm him the way you had.

Tag list: @crypticenbug @c1garette-nightmares

[loafysainz]

the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

Part 10 The Bombshell News

Breakfast was a feast on its own. Chessy placed each dish in front of Mattia with a wide smile.

"Alright, little chillie boy, breakfast today is tostada con tomate y aceite de oliva, perfectly toasted bread rubbed with ripe tomatoes and drizzled with the finest Spanish olive oil. Oh, I also made jamón ibérico, thin slices of the best cured ham straight from Salamanca. I added a plate of tortilla española, soft and golden, with a hint of caramelized onions. Oh, and if you're in the mood for something sweet, I made churros served with thick, velvety hot chocolate. Lastly, just to top it all off, a small plate of queso manchego paired with fig jam," Chessy said, her voice a mix of pride and anticipation as she placed all the dishes in front of the boy.

Mattia stared at the food, wide-eyed. Did his twin brother eat like this every day? Did he have a black hole for a stomach? He felt full just looking at the table. Slowly, he picked up a piece of toast but didn’t take a bite.

Chessy immediately noticed and frowned. “What’s wrong baby? Not hungry again? You barely touched your dinner last night. Are you sick?” she reached out, pressing his palm against Mattia’s forehead.

“It’s not that, Chessy. Everything looks delicious. Seriously,” Mattia reassured, offering a sheepish smile.

Chessy seeing him for a moment before shrugging. “Okay then.”

Mattia take the toast that Chessy made, it was delicious—something he’d never tasted back in London. He washed it down with a sip of fresh orange juice.

“Chessy… where’s my Dad?” Mattia asked, his voice hesitant.

Chessy, who had been cleaning up a few crumbs, paused. “Ah, your dad and… the young woman,” he said, mimicking an exaggerated voice, “‘Chess, I just want an apple for breakfast, thanks,’ left early to handle some wine cellar business. You were on the phone, and they didn’t want to interrupt.”

Mattia’s cheeks flushed. He hadn’t realized anyone noticed. “Oh… it’s just that I…”

“Were you talking to someone important? Like you called before breakfast?” Chessy teased, raising an eyebrow.

Mattia nearly choked on his toast. “I… uh, I was talking to a friend.”

Chessy leaned on the counter, giving him an incredulous look. “At 5 in the morning? Are you planning something chillie?” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Panicking, Mattia stumbled over his words. “Oh! No, no. My friend on vacation in Hawaii, and he told me that he is having fun there.”

Chessy smirked but didn’t press further. “Alright, little liar. Anyway, your Dad said to head to the cellars after breakfast. He wants to talk to you.”

Mattia nodded, grateful for the change in topic. “Thanks, Chessy.” He grabbed a churos on his way out, muttering, “Everything was delicious.”

As he reached the door, their dog, Sammy, barked loudly, almost as if trying to warn him of something. Mattia frowned, trying to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

“You have to push it, Matheo,” Chessy called out, clearly amused.

Mattia pushed, the door finally giving way. “I’m losing my mind,” he muttered, hurrying out before Chessy could say anything else.

****

The wine cellars were massive, filled with the rich aroma of aged bottles. Mattia wandered through, marveling at the sheer size, until he found his father inspecting a bottle of Heredad Sainz de Castro 1789 wine. A pang of emotion hit him as he realized it was his mother’s favorite.

Carlos looked up, startled but quickly smiled. “Oh, Theo, didn’t hear you come in. Just a second,” he said, setting the bottle back in its place and moving aside some boxes. “Alright, let’s talk outside.”

Once outside, Carlos glanced at him seriously. “I wanted to ask you about something. Actually… it’s about Meredith.”

Mattia’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s funny. I also have something to ask you… about Mom.”

Carlos froze, clearly caught off guard. “What?”

“What do you want to tell me about Meredith?” Mattia pressed, ignoring the shock on his father’s face.

Carlos bit his lip. “Matheo, wait… your mom?”

Matheo nodded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes, old man. Remember, you never told me about my mom?”

Carlos winced. “We’ve talked about this before, Matheo.”

“Not really! And don’t blame me for being curious. It’s normal to want to know about your mom. Or do you think I’ll keep believing a dove delivered me to your doorstep?” Mattia crossed his arms, glaring up at him.

Carlos looked increasingly uncomfortable. “Wait, that’s not…”

“Come on Dad, I know you’re always here for me, but I still need a mom. It’s a big deal, and you know it.”

Carlos sighed heavily, nodding. “You’re right. You need that figure in your life, which is why I wanted to tell you about…”

He was interrupted by the honk of a golf cart. Meredith arrived, beaming, with a decent-dressed man by his side. “Hello, my love! Just in time to introduce you to our shareholder, James Charles,” Meredith announced cheerfully.

Carlos composed himself, greeting Sergio with a firm handshake. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Meredith’s eyes sparkled as she turned to the man. “And this is Matheo, the kid I always tell you about.”

Sergio smiled warmly. “It’s a pleasure. Meredith speaks highly of you.”

Meredith smirked and patted Carlos’s arm. “Honey, I was planning to have lunch on the terrace with Mr. Charles to discuss the new wine collection.”

“Great idea,” Carlos replied smoothly. “But I promised Matheo we’d go riding today.” He winked at his son.

Meredith waved it off. “Of course, Carlitos. Don’t let me keep you. I’ll handle the business side of things.” As she climbed back into the cart, she leaned toward James. “When I marry Carlos Sainz, that kid’s going to boarding school. Mark my words.”

James chuckled. “Ouw…soo nasty and cute of you, Meredith.”

“I know,” Meredith replied smugly. “Don’t remind me.”

****

Mattia’s laughter echoed through the vineyard, his face lit with exhilaration. It was his first time riding a horse, and he couldn’t believe how free it made him feel. Perched atop the stallion, he gave a small pat to his stallion, feeling every trot as if it were his own heartbeat.

“Matheo, let the stallion rest!” Carlos called out from behind, his voice tinged with parental authority but softened by affection.

Matheo slowed the horse to a stop, guiding him to a hill that overlooked endless rows of vineyards. The golden sunlight poured over the valley, casting a warm glow over the scene. He turned to Carlos, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Hey, Matheo,” Carlos began as he caught up. “Ready for the next camp?”

Mattia tilted his head in confusion, his expression a mix of genuine curiosity and a dash of theatrical cluelessness. “Which camp?”

Carlos squinted at him, a little annoyed but mostly amused. “The one we always do every summer. What do you mean, ‘which camp’?”

“Oh, ‘that’ camp!” Mattia’s response was quick, his voice dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Can’t wait, Dad. Literally counting the seconds.” His tone was just convincing enough to pass.

Carlos smiled, giving him a knowing look. “Matheo, I wanted to ask you something.”

Mattia stiffened slightly, the shift in tone making his stomach flip. “What is it?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“What do you think about Meredith?”

Mattia blinked, caught off guard. “As a person?” he asked, trying to waste time. Carlos nodded, his gaze steady. Mattia scratched the back of his neck, his thoughts racing as fast as the stallion had been moments ago.

“Well, I mean…” he started, his voice faltering. “She seems awesome. Attractive, I guess? And she can say your name without butchering it, so there’s that. But… she’s kind of a mystery to me. Why?” His words tumbled out like a half-built defense, unsure where this was headed.

Carlos hesitated before speaking. “Because I wanted to tell you that she and I…”

Mattia’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what Carlos was about to say, but something about the tone made him want to avoid hearing it at all costs.

“I bet you can’t catch me!” he shouted abruptly, yanking the reins and urging the horse forward.

“Matheo! Wait!” Carlos’s voice rang out in alarm. “I’m trying to tell you something!

But Mattia didn’t look back. The wind whipped past his face as the horse galloped through the vineyard, Carlos chasing after him in a panicked blur. By the time Mattia reached the house, he was out of breath and brimming with a mix of guilt and panic.

****

Mattia burst into the living room in panic his thoughts swirled in chaos. “God, I can't handle this, it's too much, I'm just a kid. I can’t.” he said while trying not to cry.

"Do you want to share something with me Matheo?" Chessy said appearing from behind the couch, scaring Mattia to death.

"Oh my God Chessy, you gave me a fright" he said, earning a strange look from his babysitter.

" I gave you a fright??" she asked incredulously, making a line with her mouth.

"Alright, enough. I just want to ask you. Are you sure there’s nothing you wanna talk about? Like, why Sammy’s been avoiding you? Or why your appetite’s gone all weird? Or, I don’t know, why you’re suddenly using phrases like ‘you gave me a fright’?”

Mattia tried to laugh it off, but it sounded weak even to him. “I’ve just… changed over the summer, that’s all.”

Chessy raised an eyebrow, leaning in like she was piecing together a puzzle. “Gosh, if I didn't know you well enough, I’d say it’s almost like you were—”

“Like I was who, Chessy?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s impossible. Forget I said anything.”

But Mattia wasn’t letting it go. “Almost like I was Mattia?” his voice was quiet, daring her to confirm what he knew.

Chessy was speechless hearing that name, “Wait—you know about Mattia?”

Mattia took a deep breath and said, "It's just that...I am Mattia.” Chessy was completely shocked as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

Before Chessy could respond, Carlos stormed through the door, out of breath and clearly still rattled. “Theo—Matheo why’d you run away like that? I told you, I needed to talk to you!”

Mattia didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to read the expression on Chessy face, who stood frozen, staring at him with her wide smile and tearful eyes.

Carlos frowned at the odd tension in the room. "Chessy, why are you looking at Theo like you've never seen him before?"

Chessy’s voice broke as she answered, shaking her head as if to clear a fog. "No... I see him just like always. 7 pounds, 38 centimeters at birth... He’s still so beautiful." Her voice cracked as tears slipped down her cheeks. "Can I hug him?"

Before Carlos could respond, Chessy had already closed the distance and reach Mattia in a tight hug. Mattia, tried not to cry himself, because of his babysitter feelings.

When Chessy finally pulled back, her face was still wet with tears. She sniffled, attempting a shaky smile. "Do you want something special to eat? Or, I don’t know... Actually, never mind. I’ll just make everything we have in the kitchen!" Without waiting for an answer, Chessy disappeared, muttering to herself while wiping at her face.

Carlos watched the whole ordeal unfold, utterly baffled. With a shake of his head, he turned back to his son, now perched on the couch. "Theo, I need to talk to you about something important," he said, trying to shake off the oddness of Chessy’s behavior.

Mattia perked up. "Fine, what is it, Dad?"

Carlos hesitated, his nerves bubbling to the surface, but he pressed on. "What do you think about... Meredith being part of the family?"

Mattia tilted his head, considering the question. "Part of our family? Like, this family?

Carlos nodded a bit too forcefully, attempting to mask his apprehension. "Yes."

A wide smile broke across Mattia’s face. "I think that’s a wonderful idea, Dad! I’ve always wanted a big sister! You’re the best!"

Carlos blinked, momentarily stunned. "Really? I thought you might—"

Mattia cut him off with a cheerful laugh. "Are you kidding? This is amazing news I am going to have big sister! You’re such a good dad—"

But Carlos quickly interjected, shaking his head. "No, no. It’s not that. I... I’m not adopting her, Theo. I’m going to marry her."

Mattia shot to his feet so fast Carlos flinched. Mattia face was a mix of shock and something verging on betrayal. "Qu'allez-vous l'épouser?! Dad tu ne peux pas l'épouser! Comment pouvez-vous épouser une personne qui peut être mon frère?!" The words spilled from Mattia’s mouth like a torrent, his voice rising as he spoke. (translate: Are you going to marry her?! Dad, you can't marry her! How can you marry someone who might be my big sister?!)

Carlos froze, his jaw practically unhinged. "Theo! Were you just... speaking French?!"

Mattia eyes widened, and he quickly fumbled for an excuse. "Oh... uh, yeah. They taught us French at camp. No big deal." His father looked dubious but didn’t press the issue.

"Okay, okay, calm down baby" Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I'm sorry. Let's discuss this calmly, calmly and rationally.” Mattia replied his father

"Yeah we need to talk about this calmly, and in Spanish or English this time. Please."

Mattia shook his head, visibly upset. His voice wavered as he pointed an accusatory finger at his father. "You can’t marry her, Dad! It would ruining completely everything!"

And before Carlos could utter a single word of reassurance, Mattia run away from the room, tears streaming down his face. His father’s shouts followed him down the hall, but he didn’t stop. All Mattia could think about was finding a way to stop the wedding and figure out what to do next.

prev chap

[maracujatangerine]

77. Safety

CW: institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

White planes sped up on the tarmac outside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, faster and faster until they rose up into the cerulean sky.

Brutus ignored them. If one of the pilots would lose control his Master might die, but that was a threat that was beyond his control. Focus on the threat that you can affect.

Instead, he let his dark eyes sweep over the crowd inside the airport. Walking half a step behind his Master’s left shoulder, Brutus saw passers-by swerve to avoid crossing their path, idle glances snagging on his collar in curiosity or apprehension.

This was normal, the way that young, bespectacled father pulled his small daughter aside, the way the two elderly ladies in hijabs took a few steps back, the wave of attention rippling through the crowd as they passed. This was, in a way, what his Master had paid the WRU for.

What Brutus was looking for was something out of the ordinary, someone moving with unexpected purpose, someone running or throwing or standing still in just the wrong way. The state of hypervigilance felt almost like meditation, a singular focus that absorbed all thought.

This time, it was not needed. No threat appeared. After an uneventful taxi ride through bustling streets they arrived at a double suite on the fifteenth floor. After taking a quick shower, the pet’s Master told the guard dog to stay.

“I won’t be needing you tonight.” Wayland Jones said, as he walked out the door.

Brutus did his exercise routine, sit-ups and push-ups and stretches. He also had a shower, in the second, smaller bathroom.

With his still damp hair curling around his face, Brutus sat down at the ebony desk and disassembled and cleaned his handgun with smooth, well-practiced precision.

A guard dog should be like a gun, his handler’s voice echoed in his mind, collected, calm, unmoving as long as the safety is on, but capable of tremendous violence if your owner releases the catch.

Reassembling the weapon, Brutus laid it to the side. He did feel twinges of concern at his Master being out and about alone, but Wayland Jones had ordered him to stay. Master knows best. Brutus tried to reassure himself.

The guard dog straightened out the room and drank some water in the bathroom to make his rumbling stomach quiet down. Then, finally, he turned off the lights and sat down in front of the large windows.

The night in the foreign city was filled with neon coloured signs for shops, restaurants and nightclubs. Dark shapes of trees swayed in the breeze. Windows in the buildings around left binary messages of alternating warm yellow or deep dark rectangles. Cars, motorbikes and buses crawled back and forth with their red and white lamps painting streaks of light.

Work was over. There was nothing more to be done. Brutus sat in the quiet, cool and dark hotel room and enjoyed the view.

*

This post is a part of the 2023 BBU Community Days organised by @bbu-on-the-side. This is my entry for day 13: Safety.

*

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

[lay-z]

💍 Day 12 – Family heirloom

A continuation to ✨️ Day 4 ‒ Mama's boy, which means it’s set in the same universe!

Synopsis: Instead of celebrating Christmas with his family this year, John Price wants to spend it with you – alone.

Pairing: John Price x fem!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | military!Reader; established relationship; domestic bliss; fluff/aftercare

Word count: 1.7k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Again, this is for the lovely @staytrueblue 💙 I hope you'll enjoy this one as much as the last heh xoxo

You feel content and relaxed in a way that almost feels surreal, too peaceful. And your overworked brain makes you wonder if you should be more vigilant, perhaps, to keep your guard up. But that’s just your undiagnosed PTSD talking, so you take another sip of your tea and turn your back towards the window as you walk back over to the couch. 

You’re at the home you share with your partner. It’s warm and cosy; the spacious living room adorned with a decorated Christmas tree, fairy lights and two matching stockings hanging from the chimney piece, one having your name and the other John stitched on it in ornate writing. There are still some small shreds of colourful wrapping paper scattered on the floor, something you tell yourself that you’ll pick up later. 

John went full on sugar daddy for your first Christmas as a couple, despite showering you with random gifts and bouquets of your favourite flowers every other day, anyway. You scolded him as soon as you unwrapped the sleek box of the expensive designer bag you’d briefly admired one time you were shopping in London with him. However, John simply huffed out a husky chuckle when you swatted at his biceps and simply pushed the next present into your lap. 

Now you’re curled up on the vintage armchair next to the couch, legs tucked under you as you wait for John, taking small sips of the hot cuppa clutched between your palms. 

John had asked you to stay at home this year, just the two of you instead of visiting either of your families for Christmas, telling you that there will be time to see them in between the festive season. During those empty, strange days where no one really knows what to do with themselves; twiddling their thumbs until New Year’s, although those days don’t quite count for people like you and John.  

You two could be called in any moment and shipped out on a particularly risky mission within hours, after all. 

The thought makes your heart jump, and your stomach drops a little, twisting and churning as you grip your mug tighter. Taking a deep breath, you inhale the sweet herbal scented steam from your tea, hold it for ten seconds and exhale slowly, and repeating the technique a few times as you focus on the soft, soothing crackle of birch wood burning in the fireplace. 

“There you are.” John’s deep, rumbling voice pulls you out of your spiral and you blink a few times as you lift your gaze to focus on him, nearly breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Here I am.” You reply, flashing a closed-lipped smile and hoping he won’t notice your trepidation. Judging by the way he slowly saunters into the living room, meaty hands shoved deep into his pants pockets, he’s already picked up on it like a hound dog catching a prey’s scent. 

Your head tilts further back to look at him, tall as he is, the closer he approaches until he stands right in front of you, head tilting as he regards you, rocking on his sock-clad feet before doing that adorable little hip thrust he always does. One more thing adding to the list about John Price that gives you cuteness aggression. 

“Captain.” You nod, speaking his rank dryly, though the infatuated sparkle in your eyes gives way of your feelings; your heart beating steadily with it. 

Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.

John rumbles deep in his broad chest, like the bear he truly is, steel blue eyes narrowing playfully, “My darling.” He kneels down in front of the armchair, bad knee cracking as he grunts on the way down until you’re on eye level. 

“What are you doing?” You laugh softly as you drink in his handsome face and you could swear you can practically watch the apples of his cheeks begin to blush, “We can just move over to the couch to cuddle, babe.” 

“Yes– uh, actually,” he clears his throat audibly as he takes the mug of tea from your hands to put it on the side table next to the armchair, “There… There is one more... thing.” Then he looks down as he fumbles with his pants pocket, and you can swear you’ve never seen him act so clumsy in all the years you know him. 

“W–What is–“ But John suddenly conjures a velvety black ring box, interrupting you at once while your jaw snaps shut so fast, your teeth clash. His hands are trembling lightly as he struggles to pry the delicate lid open, and it snaps shut again two more times before he growls under his breath and nearly breaks it open while a deep flush continues to creep up his neck before disappearing under his beard. 

There, on a tiny satin pillow, rests a gorgeous sapphire ring. The soft glow of the Christmas tree’s fairy lights reflect in the oval stone, set in a delicate gold band. It looks polished and vintage, and quite expensive, too. 

“A family heirloom,” he explains, his voice incredibly rough and low, and his throat bobs when he swallows hard, as if he’s slowly getting overwhelmed, “Belonged to my mother’s grandmother. Almost got lost during World War II.” 

“No... John... That's too much–”  

His thick brows furrow as your expression changes into something he can’t quite interpret, “What? What do you mean?” 

“I can't just–” You make a vague gesture at the ring box, eyes going wide as you try to think of the right words to say, “I can't just wear that. That's like... a part of your family history and I'm–” 

“And I want you to become part of that family, love.” John interrupts you once more; his voice firm, authoritative yet incredibly gentle as his eyes soften along with the deep crease between his eyebrows. “I want us to make our own history.” 

You perk up in the armchair, shifting until you're sitting on your knees, more alert as you’re peering down at him, fingers digging into the plush armrests to ground yourself as your heart starts pumping rapidly, “What are you saying, John?” Your voice is breathless, wavering in a way it hasn’t since your teenage years. 

There is a heavy pause as John simply looks at you, then; his steel blue eyes shining with pure devotion and love for you, the corners of his lips lifting into that knowing smile of his, whenever he gets the upper hand, though the way his hands keep trembling betrays his rare nervousness.

“I’m asking you to marry me.” 

And then it’s out in the open. So simple, you almost laugh. Not a question per se, but a well thought out plan that John is letting you in on. It’s a briefing for the most important mission of your lives. There is no need to give you a speech about how you’re the love of his life or some cheesy shite like that. He’d catch a bullet for you. You’ve already risked your life for him. There is a mutual understanding and love that no one else could ever understand. You’re meant to be together. No one can compare. He’s asking you to marry him, and the look in his eyes holds the real question, ‘Will you do me the honour and say yes?’. 

But your words are stuck in your throat, your heart beating so harshly in your chest that you feel it in your throat. It’s not even been a year since he made you his girlfriend, though you knew long before that that you’d follow John Price to the end of the bloody world if it meant you can be together. 

Your eyes flicker between his and the ring box before you manage to relax your fingers and lift your left hand, holding it out to him as you try to keep it somewhat steady before you croak out, 

“Yes.” 

You keep tilting and turning your left hand outstretched above your face, and you watch in awe as the sapphire sparkles whenever it catches the warm glimmer of the ambers burning in the fireplace. 

There is an unfamiliar feeling of giddiness that has taken root in your chest the moment John slipped the engagement ring onto your left ring finger, and now it only adds to the simmering desire that has increased by a tenfold. 

“Fiancée,” you mumble to yourself, and John stirs next to you on the living room floor as if summoned.  

He snakes a heavy arm around your torso, right below your naked breasts, and he pulls you impossibly close against his powerful body, his hairy chest still flushed and damp with sweat after making love to you on the fuzzy carpet. 

“Fiancée.” John repeats as softly as his gruff voice allows it, “My future Mrs. Price.” He lets out an uncharacheristically boyish laugh and rolls over onto his side, draping his massive body over yours and nearly smothering you as he buries his face into your neck, coarse beard scratching your sensitive skin as he nuzzles your neck playfully, kissing and nibbling while his calloused hand tickles along your ribs until you giggle and squirm beneath him. 

“John! Stop!” You squeal, pushing against his chest half-heartedly, but John snatches your left wrist with ease and kisses the ring on your finger repeatedly before he swiftly wrestles you onto your back again, crawling on top of you once more while you part your legs all too eagerly for your future husband. 

“Keep making sounds like that, wife, and I won’t be able to keep my hands off ya all night long.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he gazes down at you and he somehow looks ten years younger in this cosy, dim lighting. He pins both of your wrists above your head, braces himself on the other hand and chuckles when you squeeze his hips with your thighs in return. 

“Call me that again,” you say, grinning up at him with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes, “Call me your wife again.” 

John matches your grin with equal mischief, chest rumbling with a playful growl as he leans in to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss; stealing each other’s breath away as the carnal desire reignites between you two all over again. 

And he never once stops calling you his wife from this night onward. 

[babymetaldoll]

BFF (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer meets his best friend from school after 12 years apart.  Requested: Yes, a million years ago... sorry for the delay!   Warnings: None. I don't even think I cursed.  Category: Hardcore fluff  A/N: Hey!! I'm still alive!  Masterlist

Spencer Reid knew he had fallen in love. It happened when he was just eight years old and his heart had never beat for another girl again, not the same way after he met her. (Y/N), his neighbor, three doors down the block.  

Never, and he was 24 years old already.

It all started on a random afternoon after school. 

- “You are such a nerd, Reid!”- Spencer heard a boy yelling as he shoved him down to the ground. Reid grabbed his glasses and made sure to keep them safe and in place, even when he was on the ground. The other kid, Lucas, was two years older, and for some other reason, that was nothing but kids being cruel, he had always treated Spencer like scum. And that day wasn’t the exception. 

- “Why are you so mean?”- Spencer whispered as he tried to stand up, but Lucas shoved him back to the ground, mocking him. 

- “Why are you so mean”- and the kid chuckled- “I don’t know, why are you such a baby?”

- “Didn’t your mom tell you you should never hit a kid wearing glasses?”- (Y/N) shouted as she stared at the scene from a safe distance, holding her bike. Spencer turned to look at her and for a moment, he thought what he was feeling was a panic attack. His heart kept beating faster and faster as he stared at the girl in awe.

- “Stay out of this, girl”- Lucas yelled and clenched his fist looking at little (Y/N). But she didn’t seem to be afraid. In fact, she left the bike on the ground and walked a few steps closer. 

- “Why are you calling me “girl” like it’s a bad thing?” 

Spencer looked at her with wide-open eyes. Sixteen years had passed since that day, but he could never forget the way she stood completely fearless in front of a bigger boy, and crossed her arms on her chest, almost daring him to reply. 

- “Why are you defending the nerd? Are you in love with him?”- Lucas teased and shoved the girl. But instead of tumbling or even falling, the girl moved faster and kicked him right in the balls. Lucas yelled and fell on the grass, crying in pain. (Y/N) quickly grabbed her bike and turned to Spencer. 

- “This is when you run!” 

He had never felt his heart skip a beat the way it did that day. He was only eight years old, and it never happened again. 

- “What’s your name?”- the girl asked when they reached her front porch, running away from danger. 

- “Spencer”- he whispered as he tried to catch his breath.

- “I’m (Y/N), do you want some juice?”

And just like that, Spencer Reid had a friend. He followed her into her house and froze when he saw two older kids, around Luca’s age, in the living room watching tv. 

- “Those are my brothers, you can ignore them. I do.”- she explained as she kept walking. 

- “So you finally made a friend or are you forcing the kid to hang out with you?”- one of them asked and the other chuckled. But (Y/N) didn’t reply. She walked straight to the fridge, grabbed two juice boxes and some cookies, and continued her way to the backyard. Spencer followed her closely, climbed to her treehouse with her, and shared a snack. 

That was the first of many afternoons they spent together. In the years to follow, (Y/N) and Spencer became best friends. It didn’t matter that he was already in high school by the time she was in middle school. He always took the time to help her with her homework and tutored her in math and chemistry. And she always got his back. Whenever there was a bully around, an asshole making him miserable, or anyone trying to make fun of Spencer, she was there. Kicking ass. 

Kids in school would make fun of them, telling them she was his bodyguard, his guard dog. Someone even drew them in the gym locker room. Spencer was a bunny and (Y/N) was a wolf. It was supposed to make them mad, but they didn’t care. They had their own bubble, their world. And they loved it there. 

Until Spencer had to go. They were twelve, and Spencer had already graduated from high school. Caltech was waiting for him. 

(Y/N) stood by the car as Diana loaded a few boxes. They had to move to Pasadena, and even though neither of them said a thing about their feelings, it was clearly heartbreaking for the two of them.   

- “You are not gonna cry, are you?”- she joked as Spencer tightened his jaw and cleaned his glasses with his shirt. He didn’t reply, he was in fact, fighting the tears back. 

- “Who is gonna save your ass whenever you are in trouble now?”- (Y/N) asked and punched Spencer’s arm softly- “I should have taught you how to fight. You could have a black belt by now.” 

- “Did you know the best age to start martial arts class with a good balance of discipline and commitment is from eight to twelve-year-old?”- Spencer blurted facts because that was the only thing that made him feel safe. 

- “Well, make sure you take a self-defense course in Caltech or whatever. Don’t let anyone kick your ass”- she added and he friend just nodded. They stared in silence for a moment, until Diana called her son, ready to go. 

- “So… see you around?”- (Y/N) simply said and Spencer nodded. 

- “Can I write to you?”

- “Sure! can I send you my homework, so you can do it for me?”- both of them chuckled. Spencer wanted to hug her, but even after all those years, he still didn’t feel comfortable enough to do it. So he just waved, and she waved back, and before he could comprehend what was happening, he was in a car with his mom, driving from his home to a new destination.     

- “I’m gonna miss you.”- (Y/N) whipped off the tears from her eyes as she stood in the middle of the sidewalk staring at the car. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just tell her best friend those words instead of making fun of him, but she figured she didn’t want him to think she was weak. He made her feel that way. Weak. Soft. Giddy. Nervous. 

She had a crush on him, obviously. No wonder why she had spent over four years defending him from every bully in school. She never told him, though. She felt so stupid, so silly, and so freaking girly, she couldn’t stand it. So she locked her feelings, hid them underneath thousand sarcastic, witty comments    

- “Bye, (Y/N)”- Spencer whispered, staring at her through the rearview mirror, as tears kept falling from his eyes. He knew his heart was breaking, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Skip twelve years, and Spencer still cherished every letter he had shared with (Y/N). They had long stopped writing to each other, but he always wanted to find her again. He missed her, like a part of his life that had been ripped from his chest, from his fingers. From his heart. But life was now filled with chaos. He worked at the BAU, he chased serial killers for a living. He didn’t have time for his personal life. He only had time for work. 

- “Local police department asked us to assist on a case”- Hotch announced early that morning at the briefing meeting of the team. Spencer looked at the Unit Chief and nodded, taking notes on the case they had to help with. They had worked with the local police a bunch of times, and so far it had been a good experience. 

- “I heard there is a new Sergeant in that department.”- Morgan comments as he drove with Spencer to the city police office - “As far as I know, she is very young but severe. Some of the officials said they were scared of her.” 

- “Most men are threatened by female bosses.”- Spencer replied, reading the case file for the fifth time during the trip. He didn’t take his eyes off the paper as he added - “A study indicates that women in positions of authority meet with more resistance in their interactions with male employees because those men perceive female bosses as a threat to their masculinity.”

- “And how would you deal with a female boss? Can you picture a woman as Unit Chief?”- Derek was just teasing his friend, mostly ‘cos he was bored.  

- “I don’t feel threatened by women.”- Spencer nearly stuttered as he replied, which made his words considerably unbelievable. 

- “Yeah, that’s not what I remember from the last time you talked with a woman.”- Morgan just chuckled and shook his head. 

- “Shut up.” 

Hotch, Gideon, Elle, Morgan, and Spencer walked into the police station. The Unit Chief and Gideon headed straight to the chief’s office, and the rest of the team waited in the bullpen. Most of the officers were there, doing paperwork, nothing out of the ordinary. Until one voice captured Spencer’s attention. 

- “How many times do I have to tell you, Smith? You can’t make that kind of desitions on your own? What if someone got hurt again?”- (Y/N) was scolding a young official, who glued his eyes to the floor, embarrassed. - “Now go before you get another suspension.” 

- “(Y/N)?”- Spencer whispered and turned to her. He was beyond shocked, not even in his wildest dreams he thought he would see her again. 

- “It’s Sergeant (Y/L/N).”- (Y/N) corrected and looked at the young agent. And for a moment, she forgot where she was. She opened her mouth, but not even one word came from her lips. There he was, her first love, looking cuter than ever. 

- “Hi.”- Reid mumbled and waved. She stood in the middle of the police office and simply stared at him in silence. 

No one understood what was going on. Morgan looked at Elle, who just shrugged. Everybody at that office was confused. The officials had never seen their Sergeant being emotional, and it was clear she was having a moment, right there in front of everybody.  

Suddenly, (Y/N) took a step closer to Reid, and then another, until she stood right in front of him and wrapped his arms around his neck. He moved immediately and hugged her tight. That was the very first time they hugged. 

- “Are you really here?”- she whispered and giggled, moving from him and staring t him with a big smile - “Is it really you, Spencer Walter Reid?”

- “Walter?”- Elle tried not to laugh and looked at Morgan, who seemed to be trying not to laugh as well. 

- “When did you move to DC?”- Spencer asked, staring at his best friend, neither of them moving from each other’s embrace. 

- “Last month! How long have you been here?”

- “Two years. I lost track of you after Caltech. I missed you.”- Spencer confessed right away, and (Y/N) nodded. 

- “Me too… and what are you doing here?” 

- “The team was called to collaborate on a case.” 

- “You are with the FBI?”- (Y/N) wide opened her eyes, surprised- “Look at you, Smarty.” 

- “Reid.”- Hotch interrupted their reunion and took them back to reality in a second. (Y/N) let Spencer go immediately and stood straight. 

- “Nice to meet you. Seargent (Y/L/N).”- (Y/N) extended her hand to Hotch, who shook it right away.- “The Chief told us you were coming to help with the case. Thank you for your time.”

- “(Y/N) is my best friend from school.”- Spencer explained to Hotch, and the team because they were all carefully listening. 

- “Nice to meet you. I was just talking with the Chief, we are meeting at the briefing room now.” 

Both (Y/N) and Spencer nodded and started walking, following the team. They had to make a major effort to focus on work. Neither of them could take their eyes off each other. Spencer kept smiling the whole time and looking at his best friend in adoration. Meanwhile, (Y/N) tried her best to remain calm. She felt exactly as she did when she was twelve. Her defense was down, Spencer made her feel weak and in love. Who knew first crushes could last that long? 

By the end of the day, a team of police officials plus Morgan, Elle, and Hotch had gone after the unsub. Spencer, and (Y/N) remained at the station, along with the Chief and Gideon. 

- “I still can’t believe you are here.”- Spencer whispered and looked at (Y/N), as the two of them stood in the middle of the kitchenette, getting another cup of coffee. 

- “Me neither.” 

- “I have so much to tell you. How are your brothers?” 

- “Married and with kids. I still can’t believe they are responsible grown-ups.” 

- “I might need proof to believe that as well.”- Reid smiled and (Y/N) chuckled at his words- “My mom still remembers you.” 

- “How is she? I miss her classes and her reading sessions.”- Spencer opened his mouth to reply, but Gideon interrupted him. 

- “They got him, we are ready to go.”- Reid nodded and turned to (Y/N), who sighed and cut him a short smile. 

- “At what time does your shift end?”- the young agent asked her.

- “Two and a half hours ago, yours?”- she replied with a soft chuckle. 

- “I think I am free now… do you want a better quality coffee?”- both of them smiled and looked at the mugs. 

- “And maybe something to eat. I’m starving.” 

- “Are you still a fan of Mexican food?”- Spencer asked and (Y/N) could barely hide the blush on her cheeks.

- “You still remember that?”

- “I remember everything.”

Reid and (Y/N) walked around after dinner. They had spent their time catching up with everything they had done since the last letter they had shared. He told her about college, his master's degrees, and PhDs. She told him about how she became a sergeant at such young age, and how she ended up in Washington DC. 

They walked arm in arm under the starry sky, like time hadn’t passed by. They talked about everything they might think of. But there was one question Spencer needed to ask her before the night was finished.  

- “I sent you so many letters after Caltech, but they all came back. They said “Not at this address”. Why didn’t you tell me you were moving?” 

And that was the one question (Y/N) wasn’t longing to reply. 

- “You were my best friend. My only friend and you disappeared. Why?”- Spencer stopped walking and looked at (Y/N). She sighed and bit her lips, trying to find the right words to explain her truth. It was hard, and she had tried her best to avoid it for too long. But if life had put Spencer back in her path, she couldn’t escape anymore. 

- “I’m sorry I hurt you, Spencer.”- she whispered and took a few seconds before she added - “That wasn’t my intention.” 

- “Then why did you disappear?” 

- “I needed some distance”- she tried to explain, but Spencer frowned. 

- “You and your family had moved to New York, I was in Los Angeles. We hadn’t seen each other in years. That wasn’t enough distance to you?”- (Y/N) had never heard Spencer raise his voice, but to be fair, they hadn’t talked about their feelings ever before. 

- “I needed to get over you!”- she murmured and bit her lips one more time, obviously nervous about his reaction. She was trying to be honest. - “I couldn’t continue in love with my best friend forever. I had to move on! I was already eighteen and I never even had a date, ‘cos I was waiting for you.” 

Spencer stared at her in shock. Of all the answers he thought he might get, that was not the one he imagined. He thought she was bored of him and grew tired of his letters. That she had more interesting things to do with her life than talking with a pen pal. 

(Y/N) sighed, relieved to take that from her chest, but scared of Spencer’s answer. She stared at him for a few seconds, but he didn’t react. So, she continued walking and slowly left him behind. 

Spencer tried to connect all that info, but he couldn’t believe it. He stared at her back as she walked and called out her name, jogging. 

- “(Y/N), wait.” 

- “No Spencer, it’s ok. You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry I was so immature and hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t… I am so sorry.”- she blurted out and kept looking at her feet as she spoke. 

- “Don’t be.”- the young SSA whispered and held her hands. She raised his eyes and stared into his. She could still see the same sweet kid she had met at eight years old. - “I am sorry I never told you how I felt either. I was just so scared to lose you, and I lost you anyway.”

The two of them stayed in silence, processing what had just happened. Neither of them moved. Neither of them knew what to say next. So they just stood in silence for a few minutes, Spencer kept holding her hands the entire time, slowly and carefully caressing her fingers. 

- “So… what now?”- she finally whispered and Spencer sighed. 

- “Would… you… like… going out on a date with me?”- he asked and (Y/N) was unable to control the smile on her face. 

- “Are you serious? What did we just have? Dinner and ice cream count as a date.”- she teased him and Spencer blushed immediately.  

- “Ok, would you like to go on another date with me?” 

- “I would love to.”- she replied and started walking again, this time hand in hand with Spencer. He chuckled and stared at her from time to time. 

- “What is it?”- (Y/N) asked, knowing he was looking at her. Spencer chucked again and stopped walking. 

- “If this was a date…”- but he couldn’t finish his question, ‘cos (Y/N) held his face with both hands and kissed him. It was short and childish, and both of them seemed shocked after they parted. 

- “... I was wondering if I could walk you home?”- Spencer finished asking, and (Y/N) closed her eyes embarrassed, and even held her breath. 

- “Sorry… I thought you were….”- but this time, she couldn’t finish talking ‘cos Spencer held her face and kissed her. But that kiss was neither short nor childish. It was sweet and slow. Spencer kept rubbing his lips against hers, making her feel the entire world had stopped spinning. 

- “Sorry… I couldn’t help myself.”- he whispered as he moved his lips from hers, still cupping her cheeks with both hands. 

- “It’s ok.”- she managed to murmur as she giggled. - “I wanted to kiss you since we were twelve years old.” 

- “Me too.”- he confessed and looked at her blushy cheeks, knowing he looked the same.

- “So, are you gonna walk me home?”- (Y/N) asked and felt Spencer hold her hand as they started walking again. He intertwined his fingers with her and turned to her for a second as they started talking again. He knew this time he wasn’t going to let her go.  

Taglist General @spenxerslut @ash19871962 @muffin-cup @cynbx @meowiemari

Taglist Spencer @calm-and-doctor @malboroniights @lovejules888

[taterswhump]

He'd gone to the livestock auction for chickens. His great uncle had died and left his smallholding to him. Overgrown land full of weeds and a small house in desperate need of updating. He'd cleared out a section of the yard and had planned on getting half a dozen Bantums to get him started. Eventually he thought maybe a couple of old donkeys when he got the field cleared.

The boxie looked old for a pet, maybe 30 or so. Covered in scars and looked like he'd been hastily hosed down after a long period of being covered in his own filth. Long streaks of muck still clinging to him in places.

The men by the cage were jeering at the boxie.

"Nah look at the state of it, it's barely fit as dog bait"

"I thought Owens was meant to be coming today he usually has something decent"

Turning the tag on the cage to show the guide price

"£500 they're having a laugh, most expensive dog meat on the market at that price"

"Might be worth a punt if it goes cheap enough though. Give the guard dogs something to keep em busy this weekend"

The auction thankfully didn't drag the animals up one by one, the bids going too fast for that to be practical. The Bantums came up and he got them for less than he'd thought. He should go, something made him stay. The boxie came up. Opening bid a measly £50 it climbed slowly to £200 peering around he spotted the man he'd seen at the cage. Taking a deep breath he raised his number. The other man bid another couple of times but soon gave up, the worn out boxie not worth much.

Well this was a stupid idea. What the hell was he gonna do with a box boy at the end of its use? Maybe he could at least make him comfortable in his last days, like he'd planned to do with his donkeys.

The dog cage was hefted up onto the bed of his defender and strapped down. The cage of hens beside it then he was off home

[janitorhutcherson]

finnick odair who was never in the games but instead is your average man who lives in a coastal city in california. he’s rough around the edges still, gruff, sarcastic, and cocky, but he is happy and free. he’s more soft spoken and his guard is let down more, but only around specific people. mostly only around you.

finnick odair who owns a fishing company called ‘odair fisheries.’ he spends most of his time out on a little sailboat he’s made up. he’ll spend hours out in the ocean, just him, a cooler, and his fishing rod. his golden tan skin is sunburnt in some areas from long exposure and lack of sunscreen, something you’d gotten onto him about ten times too many. his body is covered in little tattoos of seashells, sea turtles, boat anchors, small outlines of fish. a seashell necklace sits around his neck, homemade from your delicate and loving hands.

finnick odair who’d practically BEG for you to come fishing with him. you weren’t the biggest fan. something about sitting out in the searing heat all day on a rocking surface didn’t seem all that appealing to you, but when finnick would look at you with his big blue puppy dog eyes, his bottom lip sticking out, you couldn’t resist. if you were determined to deny his suggestions, he’d go even further, throwing in a desperate, “please, sweetheart, you know i hate being without you as is.” as always, you’d give in, not particularly loving the sweat dripping off of your forehead but loving admiring your partner in front of you. you loved the way his face scrunched up in focus as he cast the line, his eyes perched on a particular spot. you loved the way his muscles tensed as he reeled the line in, or the way he huddled over you when attempting to teach you how to fish for the hundredth time (once again unsuccessful, though you know he’d try again tomorrow).

finnick odair who also taught children to fish as a part of his company. on weekend mornings, he’d have different classes that would last about 30 minutes. at the beginning, he’d take a group of kids out to a dock near his boat and he would teach the basics. by the end of the block of classes, he’d have even kids as little as 5 out fishing on his boat with him. he loved the kids like his own, growing attached to each and every one of them. you loved watching him teach, seeing how he’d sweetly hug the little boy gripping onto his leg back or how he’d soothe the crying little girl who fell and scraped your knee. he’d get you involved in helping to wrangle the kids, too, watching you intently as you’d braid a little girl’s hair for her or cradle one of the youngest ones on your hip. finnick wanted kids more than anything and he wanted them with you, his mind going crazy, desperate for a little family with you every time he saw you with children. it’s safe to say finnick’s baby fever is crazy.

finnick odair who spends rainy sunday mornings with nothing else to do playing guitar hero and other various video games. as rain would pelt down heavily on the roof of the house, the waves rocking the boat a little too much for him to even dare to attempt the seas (although he had in unsafe weather one too many times for your liking), you’d be awoken far too early in the morning to the smell of freshly baked muffins (from a box) and the sound of some rock song on the tv mixed with plastic clanking. you’d trudge into the living room, fuzzy blanket wrapped around your cold shoulders, and plop down onto the couch where a muffin already awaited you with some warm coffee on the side table. you couldn’t help but laugh as you nestled into your corner on the couch, turning yourself into a nest of blanket. finnick would be going crazy with the guitar strapped around his neck, resting at his somewhat bare torso. he’d be jamming out in his underwear, hair tussled, eyes still puffy with sleep. his nimble fingers would click through the red, blue, green, yellow pieces as his piercing blue eyes focused on the screen. you couldn’t help but fall more in love with him as you begin to doze back off in your corner.

finnick odair who loves intimacy. it was something that didn’t come easy to him. although things were much simpler for finnick odair in this life than in the hunger games, he still had his guard up. you’d taught him how to be intimate, how to love and to feel love, how to share his feelings with more than just ‘i love you.’ at night, he would spoon you to sleep, hand always resting on your stomach from behind, nuzzled up as close as he could get. if he was holding you the other direction, he’d hold you close into his chest, resting his nose in your hair, taking in your scent. “you are my entire ocean, the sea breeze that makes the waves move, the crystal blue water, all the way up to the glisten in the sea, sweet girl,” he’d mutter into your ear. even when you were fast asleep, he’d still whisper sweet nothings into your ear. when you’d take showers, he’d carefully sneak in and slip in behind you, almost always causing you to fall, but he’d be prepared and catch you. he’d then tenderly wash through your hair for you, pressing little kisses to your shoulders. finnick loved and adored you and he’d do anything possible to show that.

[itsa-me-lily]

Would Simon ever get a pet of his own? I imagine it being unintentional if he does, first because he never wanted pets and then because he already has the pigs

Honestly I don't know about other species. I think, especially while he's going on so many missions, he leaves that to Reader, since she'll be the one handling any extra animals. And I don't know if she would go out of her way to get another type of pet like cats or dogs just because they can pose a risk to the pigs. Plus I picture their military issued home as this rather tiny place. All one floor where the front half of the house is the kitchen and living room and the back half the home office, the bedroom, and then the only bathroom. The military wanted these built fast and cheap.

If they didn't have the piggies? I could see Simon having a stray follow him home and then both Reader and whatever creature giving him the big pleading eyes, or Reader just flat out saying "Fuck you I'm a mother now".

So I know you were rooting for Simon having an emotional support turtle buuuuuuuuuuuuuut I can offer you this instead?

Note; this is part of the Simon & Thimble playlist

Here is the MPS AU masterlist

Simon Riley would not call himself an animal person by any means. Sure he liked them well enough, but he didn't find himself going out of his way for them, and before you and the pigs moved in, he didn't see himself living with any. But did now and well, it was pretty alright.

It was nice that when he came home at least two creatures there were excited to see him. Even if that probably had more to do with them hoping Simon would give them extra food than joy that he had come back in one piece, scrapes and bruises aside. And it was clear they made you so happy.

Simon had spent afternoons on the couch watching as you played with them, running through your trick routines, or just cuddling with them. And he may or may not have been debating on if he could teach them to come to a spot if he shined a laser pointer there. Just to see if it was possible.

You always spoke to them so gently, telling them how much you loved them, how important they were to you. He'd never say it to another person, but Simon was now glad that you weren't alone when he went on missions.

So no, Simon Riley wasn't an animal person, but he could appreciate the fuck out of those guinea pigs. Still didn't mean he knew what to do with the box that was sitting at his desk on base.

When you got home that evening, you were not expecting the scene you walked into, and honestly you didn't know how worried you needed to be. Sure you knew that Simon would probably be home. You knew that Jiji and Tombo would be home. You knew that all three knew co exists. You knew all this, and yet you weren't expecting the chaos that you saw.

Somehow both boys were out of their cage and running around, and Simon was doing...something in the kitchen? He was down in a squat cornering god knows what. You knew it wasn't the boys because you watched as Tombo shot under the couch, and Jiji was very rudely trying to eat a leg off the coffee table shoved under the TV.

Thankfully no one made an attempt at a jail break as you shut the door, though it did distract Simon as he raised his head to look at you, before realizing his took his eyes off his prey and cursing as it darted off to the space between the counter and the fridge.

"Uh...do I want to know-"

Before Simon could answer you he was trying to move the fridge, only for a terrified shrieking to come from the abyss of the crack beside it. It completely caught you off guard, and even made Jiji dive for under the coffee table. Sympathetic squeaks came from under the couch.

"Oh my god Simon, stop!"

You don't know if it was the volume of which you shouted at him, or the urgency in your tone, but thankfully he did, turning to stare at you like he had any right to look as confused as he did.

"Simon what the fuck is going on?"

"I was trying to introduce them all."

As much as you wanted to understand what was going through that man's brain, you had two furry potatoes to rescue first. Making your way over to the coffee table slowly, you tried to keep your eyes on both Jiji, who thankfully hadn't moved, and the couch, where unfortunately Tombo hadn't moved from.

"You are going to explain better once we have the boys back in their cage. Slowly walk towards the couch."

It seemed like Simon wanted to argue about whatever he had trapped by the fridge, but the look on your face must have convinced him otherwise because he did do as you told him to, putting his stealth skills to good use for once instead of scaring the shit out of you. Before he could do anything with the couch though you motioned for him to stop. You were too scared about scaring Tombo into a new hiding spot, or him accidentally getting hurt.

"Don't touch the couch. Just sit down and see if Tombo will come out to you."

Thankfully Simon continued to listen to you because he sat down quietly, though he kept his sights on the kitchen like a fucking pointer dog. But with that out of the way at least, you could swoop in and grab Jiji, who made his displeasure at being abducted from his delicious new snack. Even if he couldn't see, Tombo voiced his support of his brother. You ignored both protests.

Now safe in his cage, you could focus on your other wayward child, who did come out to Simon like you had hoped. It looked like you had to bring out the big guns then. Grabbing the container of pea flakes you gave it a single shake, both guinea pigs starting to loose their minds. If you didn't go partially deaf at the volume of their wheeking you'd be amazed.

Crouching down you have the container another shake, and thankfully Tombo came shooting out from under the couch, hurrying over to you as fast as his little legs could carry him. Totally acting like he was a good boy deserving treats, and totally not part of the chaos that had been happening. Of course you still gave them each a single flake once they were both in the cage. The shaker was only an effective call if you rewarded afterwards.

Alright, you had two of your boys handled, that only left the one now.

Simon hadn't moved from where you had told him to sit, his focus still on the kitchen. You tried to see what he was looking at as you took the few steps needed to reach him, but before you could demand answers as to what the hell was going on, you finally saw what it was that had been practically screaming in your kitchen.

"Is that a baby guinea pig?"

"Little bastard finally came out-"

"Wait-"

You grabbed Simon's shoulder just as he was starting to get up, causing you, him, and the guest in the kitchen to freeze. It wasn't that you two never touched. You lived together, it had to happen now and again. But they were always more along the lines of handshakes, where both parties could decide to participate or not. Deliberate. Not random unthinking actions. Simon didn't seem like he enjoyed random unthinking touches. You pulled your hand away, hoping you somehow didn't do something completely unforgiveable.

"You're gonna scare him off again if you move too quickly."

Simon didn't storm off as soon as you had let go of him, in fact he hadn't moved at all since you had grabbed at him like that. Hopefully it meant that he was listening to what you were saying. With a nervous swallow you tried shaking the pea flake container again, ignoring the demanding calls behind you.

With baited breath you both watched as the guinea pig came out a little further. It was such a tiny thing, probably half the size of Jiji and Tombo, practically made your heart melt. Swallowing you decided to test your luck.

"Give me your hand, lets see if we can bribe him over here."

Luck was apparently on your side because Simon gave you his hand like an obedient dog, and you were able to put a few flakes in the center of his palm. Simon's ability to be silent came in use yet again as he set his hand against the ground. Now all you could do was wait.

You had no idea how long the two of you were by your couch, just watching to see what this little creature would do. But thankfully the chaotic part of the evening was coming to a close as you watched the grey and white pig bravely made its way across the kitchen to the living room, too enticed by what you assumed was the smell of the teat.

As soon as it was within reach, Simon was grabbing the pig by its middle and hoisting it up into the air, much to its loud chagrin. Again you moved without thinking, your hands move to cup around Simon's and the pig, supporting both it's little feet and trying to get Simon to release his grip.

"Gentle, gentle. You can let go. I got him."

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding when you felt the guinea pig's weight settle in your hand. You didn't realize that you still had Simon's hand within your grip until he was clearing his throat because you were cradling both the pig and his hand to his chest.

"Fuck, shit sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine."

It didn't sound totally fine, and you wanted to keep babbling apologies until it was clear that you hadn't pushed some unspoken boundary beyond repair. But then you felt tiny nails scratching against the collar of your shirt and it had to take back seat. Settling down onto the floor you tried to calm down the little creature, speaking softly and just trying to shield it in your hands, while ignoring the prickling sensation of Simon watching you.

It didn't normally feel like this did it?

Once the new pig stopped struggling against your chest, you felt like you could finally circle back to all the questions you had tried to ask before.

Apparently another lieutenant had just dropped off the guinea pig on Simon's desk. His kid hadn't wanted it after a few weeks and he had heard the Simon's wife, you, liked them, so he had figured that you'd take care of it. And then Simon had thought that he could just place the new pig in the cage, but it had jumped out of his hands before he could set it in. When chasing it didn't seem to work he thought if he brought Jiji and Tombo out then they'd help draw the little one out. Only they hadn't, so you came home to Simon trying to wrangle all the guinea pigs backs before you noticed.

It was all so...harebrained, plus the deadpan way that Simon explained it all, mixed in with your new found anxiety, you couldn't help but laugh. At first it was just you, but after a few seconds you could hear a low raspy chuckle join in as you both finally relaxed after the insanity that had consumed your household. And once you started it took a while to stop. As soon as you both seemed to get a handle of yourselves someone would squeak and it'd just send you both into another fit. Your ribs were practically burning by the time you finally could stop for good. You were pretty sure you were also crying.

Looking down at your chest you were glad to see that apparently your new pig seemed to have calmed down at least a little, no longer quite trembling in your hold.

"What should we name you hmm?"

"I was thinking Baker. So he matches the other two."

Simon's suggestion confused you, head tilted as you looked back up at him.

"Huh?"

"The other two got named after that movie you like. And the only other guy is the baker."

You didn't expect the funny feeling in your chest at his explanation. You had forced Simon to watch Kiki's Delivery Service with you once when he had asked why you had named the boys as you had. You didn't expect him to have actually paid attention, or even remember any of the characters.

You weren't looking back down at the guinea pig to avoid meeting Simon's gaze. He was just a really cute guinea pig.

"Yeah...yeah if he's a boy sure."

"If?"

You didn't expect to explain how sexing a guinea pig worked to your husband, but he listened. He also listened when you explained that introducing the new pig would be a long process. Thankfully you still had a small starter cage from years ago when you first got Jiji and Tombo and didn't know how much space they'd really need. With the power of teamwork, which was really Simon setting up the cage while you sweet talked your newest baby, you had Possibly Baker all set up for the night.

Once you were sure that every pig was safe and sound, and not likely to make any escape attempts, you looked at Simon with a grim face.

"Alright, we gotta go scrub everything and our selves down now."

"Why?"

"Cause he for sure has ring worm."

Edit

Yes this is a monster. No I don't regret it.

Also this is what our newest baby looks like

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

How do the tokyo revengers boys act around their crush????

Not counting the guys who've seen around a crush, this is how I think they would act!

Mikey- Tries to get your attention a lot and insists you come and hang out or "play" with him. He wants your attention on him and will do whatever he can to get that. Will pout if you ignore him too much and complain to Draken. 

Baji- He plays it cool, pretends that he isn't romantically interested and instead tries to see you as a friend. Still keeps you close to him but tries not to act on any feelings (at least not without a push).

Chifuyu- Blushing sm whenever you're around, almost drives himself crazy with how much he thinks about you. Reads his manga for advice and even asks Baji despite Baji having 0 experience with this himself. 

Mitsuya- Focuses more of his attention on you. He tries to get to know you more and spends more time with you. He's just a lot more interested in you.

Hakkai- Not only can he not talk to you but he can barely be in the same room as you, leaves very quickly if you approach. He admires you from afar until he works up the courage to say something. 

Smiley- Hangs out around you more often and basically becomes your guard dog, threatening anyone who seems like they'll cause you trouble. He hasn't really figured out how to talk to you properly yet so he tries to let his actions show how much he cares instead. Tries hard to not blush around you.

Angry- Starts off very slow with just saying hi to you everytime he sees you, then starts asking how you are and tries to engage you in further chats. He's caring to everyone but seems to give you extra attention. 

Mucho- He observes you a lot for awhile, trying to figure out his own feelings and what he really wants. He's a pretty straight forward guy though so when he's ready he'll approach you and ask if you want to accompany him to a cafe at some point. 

Sanzu- He also observes you but in a different way, he wants to know everything about you before he makes his move. Also has a habit of leaving gifts for you in your post box. Also wants to make sure you're safe and no one messes with what he finds precious. 

Naoto- Always does little things for you to show his crush, like getting you an extra bottle of water after he buys one and helping you with whatever you need.

Hanma- He finds it very amusing that he even has a crush. He actually kinda tries to scare you away, well not scare you exactly, more like he shows you his more extreme side as a test. He figures you might as well see the real him now before anything happens between the two of you (his way of avoiding you breaking his heart if you change your mind). He's serious about his feelings when they're this strong. Once you get that over point though then he's constantly teasing you and casually touches you a lot.

Kazutora- Worries a lot about this and actually tries to avoid you to get rid of the crush. He hasn't exactly had a lot of healthy examples of relationships in his life so this concerns him a bit, thinks you're too good for someone like him. However the feelings are too strong so he does eventually confess, he figures you can turn him down then you'll all be done. He'd be pretty surprised if you actually said yes though. 

Inui- Finds the crush to be troublesome. He straight up asks you out on a date, so the two of you can go out and he can realise he doesn't actually like you (he's in a lot of denial)

Taiju- He has 0 doubts about you wanting to date him or at least that's what he tells himself. Is a bit unsure deep down though. He tries to make himself look better to you.

Izana- Also wants your attention to only be on him, he sees you as being his so you should focus on him. Actually gets a little flustered when you do focus on him and praise him though. He likes it but freezes up a little since he's not used to it.

Kakucho- Tries to do small acts of kindess for you, he wants you to trust him and love him too. He's just so caring and gentle towards you, always offering you soft smiles.

Ran- Straight up flirts with you, he kinda makes it hard for you to know if he's being serious or not though. He hides behind his wit and charisma. Touches you casually a lot too, thinking nothing of getting close to you. 

Rindou- Is a lot more unsure then Ran, he tries to flirt with you too but frequently gets too flustered or accidentally messes up his lines. It kinda works in his favour though since it feels a lot more genuine. 

Mochi- Shares a lot of things with you, both verbally and physically. He tells you a lot about himself and asks you a lot of questions. And is always sharing food and drinks with you (blushes slightly at every indirect kiss)

Shion- Follows you around like a lost puppy, he tries to make you laugh a lot too by telling jokes. Will sometimes boast about himself as a way to impress you. 

South- Is more gentle with you then anyone else, always asks you about your day and how things are going. He really want to sing or play the piano for you but hasn't quite gotten the words out to ask you yet.

Wakasa- Always wants to hang out with you and will conveniently "forget" to invite the others so it ends up being just the two of you. Will also lean on you a lot or casually lay his head in your lap for a nap. He wants to be close to you even if he hasn't gotten around to confessing yet.

Benkei- Always complimenting you even when you're not around, all his friends know how much he likes you because of how much he talks about you. 

Shinichiro- He uses so many cheesy pick up lines on you, he found a big book of them and is convinced he can win you over with them. He also invites to the shop a lot to hang out (and as a way to impress you with his bike skills).

[harmonicakai]

Was It Something I Said?

Part 5 of the "Anyone Else But You" series

Pairing: Huening Kai x Reader

Summary: It gets harder and harder for you and Kai to pretend like there isn't something going on between the two of you.

Tropes: enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, fluff, angst, stylist!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex (mdni!!!!), reader is insecure, miscommunication, alcohol, injuries

A/N: ahhh this series is almost over!!! i'm gonna miss it so much, but there's still plenty to come :-)

FIC INSPIRED PLAYLIST <3

“Did I fuck it up again? Are we destined to be friends? I wanna give you more than that” —Be Around Me, Will Joseph Cook

Kai and the boys have been in Japan for two days now, but with the amount of times that he has you on the phone, it feels like he never even left. Even if he refuses to talk about what happened at the album party, things are going pretty well between you and him.

You’re about to head out the door when your phone rings. You don’t even need to check the caller ID.

“Y/N, you didn’t call! The show’s about to start and you didn’t call!” Kai’s voice rings out of your phone’s speaker. While you can tell he’s mostly joking, he’s also a little worked up.

“Kai, we just talked, like, two hours ago. You know I have that date tonight.” Oh, he knows.

“Yeah, but I like when you call right before I’m about to go on stage. You’re my good luck charm.”

“You’re just being superstitious.”

“I wish you could see me pouting right now.” His sad puppy dog visuals pop into your head.

“Ugh, fine,” you relent. “You’re going to do amazing, Hyuka. Fighting!”

“That’s my girl!” he laughs, immediately ready to give his all on the stage. “I miss you so much.” 

His affection catches you off guard and you go quiet. 

“Hello?” he asks. “Y/N, are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m still here. Call me back so I can know how it went, okay?”

“You know I will,” he assures you. There’s obvious disappointment in his voice.

“Hueningie, it’s time to go!” you hear Taehyun call in the background.

“I have to go. Bye. Have fun on your date!”

“Bye,” you say. He ends the call and you feel an ache in your stomach. You miss him too, so why couldn’t you have just said it back?

When you finally get out the front doors of your building, Seongjin’s already waiting for you, flowers in hand. You note his outfit, something similar to what you have pinned on your “boyfriend manifestation” moodboard.

“Hey,” he says, holding the bouquet out to you. “These are for you.”

“They’re lovely,” you smile, bringing them to your nose to sniff them. You love the smell of roses. “I don’t think anybody’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Well, there’s more where that came from.” Seongjin’s hand finds its way into yours. He’s bold and romantic, even dressing exactly how you’d like him to. He’s checking off all of your boxes, and yet something feels off.

As the two of you walk towards the city’s center, you actually have no clue what he’s planned for tonight until he stops outside of a restaurant that you’ve had on your bucket list for years now.

“You’re joking!” you say in disbelief. “You have to get a reservation months in advance to eat here, and even then it’s impossible.”

“I called in a few favors,” he grins, holding the door open for you. You blush, wondering what you’ve done to deserve even a fraction of the effort he’s gone through.

The dinner’s going okay. There’s just something about the way that Seongjin’s meticulously planned everything, even his responses to your small talk, that makes you suspicious. He feels too perfect, almost unreal.

You find yourself focusing more on the delicious food than on any of what he’s been saying.

“You know,” he starts, “I only went to that album party because I knew you’d be there.”

The hint of Seongjin speaking in a less rehearsed way grabs your attention. You look up to see him grinning.

“No, you didn’t,” you laugh, dismissing him. “You probably didn’t even know who I was before Yeonjun introduced us.”

“Of course I did. I’ve thought you were cute for a while now. The way you’re always running around with your arms full of clothes. I can’t wait to debut so you can dress me up.”

You can’t believe that anybody had even noticed you around the building, let alone taken a romantic interest. If only somebody else felt that way. 

“Well, does that mean you’re not a big fan of TXT?” you ask, sipping your wine. You’re mostly joking, but also curious what his honest opinion of the group is.

“I mean, obviously, I think my uncle makes great songs for them. But besides Yeonjun, I don’t think they’re the kind of guys I’d really hang out with, you know?”

Your face heats up at his answer and your energy shifts. “No, I don’t know. Care to explain?”

“The other guys just seem so dorky. Not to mention half of them were wasted at a work event. Like that Huening kid whose outburst interrupted our conversation. What was that about anyway?”

“It’s none of your business,” you scoff, setting your silverware down. “And he’s not a kid. He’s almost twenty-two.”

“Look, Y/N, I know you’re close with them. I didn’t mean to make you upset. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” you say, standing up and gathering your things. “Thank you for dinner. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

On your way home, you start to wonder if you’ve made a mistake blowing off someone so well connected, but the way he talked about your friends makes your blood boil. 

Then again, things had been going just fine before then. Maybe you should’ve just smiled and nodded like you usually do. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get asked on another date again, let alone one that was planned so well.

Suddenly, your phone rings and for some reason, you answer. “What do you want now, Kai?!” you snap into the speaker.

“Whoa,” an unexpected voice replies, dragging out the word. “Actually, it’s Yeonjun.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you groan, embarrassed at your attitude. “Hi, Jun.”

“So, I’m guessing your date didn’t go very well?”

“I think I’m going to get fired,” you huff, finally reaching your building again.

“That bad, huh? Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. He’s handsome and thoughtful and everything I could ask for really, but there wasn’t any sort of spark. Plus he called everyone in the group except you dorky, and that’s when I just got up, thanked him, and left.”

“Everyone else is dorky, Y/N. You really couldn’t wait until the end of dinner because of that?” 

“Fine, it’s stupid when I say it out loud. But the damage is already done,” you sigh, digging through your purse for your keys.

“I’m sure he’d reconsider if you apologize,” he reasons with you. You’re not sure that you actually have anything to be sorry about.

“I shouldn’t have to! He was making fun of Kai!” That’s it, you realize. That’s the reason you’re so upset. Of course this is somehow about him.

“Ah, I see now,” Yeonjun says, dropping the issue. “Well, hopefully you won’t run into him at work much.”

“Hopefully,” you agree. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing,” he muses. “I really played off the crowd’s energy, and they loved my solo stage.”

“That’s awesome, Jun,” you smile back. Ever since you and Kai have grown closer, it’s felt like Yeonjun has taken a backseat. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Soobin tried to do the Water challenge,” he laughs. “We all ran to cover him up, though. Beomgyu played the guitar, and MOA kept mentioning how Taehyun looked like Ash Ketchum.”

“Maybe you guys need to do a Pokémon concept,” you think out loud. You don’t fail to notice that Yeonjun has conveniently left out Kai from his recap, as if he’s testing to see whether you’ll bring him up first.

“Would I get to be a fire type trainer?” Yeonjun asks. So, he really isn’t going to mention how Kai did tonight. You bite your lip, resisting the urge to ask about him.

“Yes, of course. I think Soobin would be water, Beomgyu grass, and Taehyun psychic. Actually, wait. Maybe Beomgyu would have fairy types.”

“And Kai?” Yeonjun finally relents. You breathe out in relief at the mention of him.

“He’d be electric,” you decide. “Or normal. Whichever ones are the cutest, really.”

“You wanna know how the concert went for him, don’t you?” he asks.

“No, it’s okay, Jun,” you brush him off. “We can talk about whatever you want.”

“Y/N. It’s cool. I’ve just been messing with you.” You can practically hear him smirking through the phone.

“Oh,” you twiddle your thumbs. “Well, yes, then tell me how he did.”

Yeonjun sucks in a breath. “First off, I don’t want you to get worried.”

“Okay? Why would I be worried?”

Yeonjun hesitates before answering you. “He’s at the hospital right now.” Your stomach drops.

“What?! Is that what you were hiding from me?”

“I knew it would make you upset, Y/N. It’s not a big deal. It’s probably just a sprain, alright?”

“But he’s hurt,” you sigh. “Is that the reason you called me and not him?”

“Can’t I just want to hear my dear friend’s voice and ask how her date went?”

“Mhmm, sure.” You side eye him through the phone, plopping down onto your bed. You’re too tired to change out of your date clothes.

“Okay, fine,” he continues. “Kai did ask me to call you while the doctor checks him out. He knew it would probably be all over social media and didn’t want you to worry.”

“It’s probably my fault he injured himself,” you mutter, kicking off your shoes. “I hope it’s not too bad.”

“Y/N, he’s fine,” Yeonjun assures you. “And how could it possibly be your fault? We aren’t even in the same country right now. The stage was probably just wet because of the rain from earlier.”

“I think I made him upset right before you guys went on stage. He said he missed me and I didn’t say it back, but I think he wanted me to.”

“Hmm, I guess he did seem a little down now that you mention it.”

“Well, tell him I said sorry.” Knowing that he was noticeably off tonight because of you makes you feel horrible. If you had just said it back, he probably could’ve focused on the show better.

“I mean, if you want to wait and tell him yourself, he’ll probably be back any second now.”

“I don’t really feel like talking anymore. Night, Jun. I’ll see you later.” Before Yeonjun can say bye, you’ve already hung up. You’ve never been more confused over your emotions than tonight.

Throwing a pillow over your head, you scream into it. Your love life is in shambles and all you can think about is Huening Kai’s stupid, possibly-sprained ankle.

—————-

When Kai’s plane lands, you’re the first person he wants to see. Before he even left, he made sure that you had a key to the apartment, something Yeonjun was always too lazy to do.

You haven’t brought up the disaster of a date you went on while he was away, and to your relief, he hasn’t asked about it either. It’s almost as if he doesn’t care that it happened.

Getting him to agree to watch the new Mean Girls remake for your weekly movie night was much easier than you expected. You had even prepared a whole speech for why he should relent even though it was supposed to be his choice tonight.

“It’s a musical,” you reasoned. “You’ll like it!”

You were very, very wrong. The movie was horrible, but at least that meant that the two of you could hate-watch it together.

“Those lyrics…” he starts, rubbing his temples as the closing credits played.

“And the costumes!” They were not going to age well.

“That was really bad,” he laughs. “That’s the last time I’m letting you pick when it’s my turn.”

“I have a feeling I’ll still be able to charm you in the future,” you say, batting your eyelashes.

“That is so not fair.” He crosses his arms. “Why are you so cute?”

“It’s my superpower,” you say, grinning. A few months ago, you would’ve never said something like that, but Kai makes you feel so much better about yourself.

The way you’re looking at him makes him blush, and he glances away hoping you haven’t noticed. His gaze focuses on the clock on the wall.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s past two.” Kai says. Time always seems to disappear when you’re together. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Thunder booms outside the window and you can hear raindrops hitting the roof.

“That might be a bad idea. I can just call a car,” you say, grabbing your phone. He stops you.

“Just stay here,” he offers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You can’t sleep on the couch,” you disagree. “Yeonjun will think we’re mad at each other.”

“Well, if we sleep in here together, he’ll probably start planning our wedding.”

“I guess we’re losers in this game, huh?” you say, immediately cringing at the pun. The two of you exchange glances before cracking up.

Kai always takes longer to stop laughing than you. “Okay, how about this. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says, still giddy.

“But it’s your bed! I can sleep on the floor.”

“I am not letting you sleep on the floor. You’re my guest.”

“This is stupid, Kai. Yeonjun doesn’t know the difference whether one of us sleeps on the floor or in the bed. We might as well just share.”

“But you snore, remember?”

“There’s actually no real evidence to that claim,” you refute.

“Well, it’s a twin sized bed. I might crush you.”

“I don’t need that much space. We can even sleep head to toe, if you want.”

“My feet stink. Your feet stink.” The effort he was going through to not share a bed with you was eating away at you. You’re sure he’s slept with his group mates plenty of times before, so what difference did it make?

“Oh my god! Fine, sleep on the floor.” You throw a pillow and one of his many plushies his way, turning on your side to face the wall. 

“Are you mad at me?” he asks from behind, his voice now quiet and careful. To be honest, you’re not quite sure whether you’re being serious or not.

You turn over to look at him, sitting on the edge of the bed, petting the plushie’s head.

“Kai,” you sit up. “Kai, look, I’m sorry. I’m not mad.”

“I feel like I’m always putting my foot in my mouth when I’m around you.”

“You’re not. I wouldn’t spend so much time with you if I didn’t want to.” You cup his cheek, running your thumb over one of his moles. “I promise.”

Yeonjun isn’t afraid to check you when you’re in the wrong, but Kai is too sweet to deal with any sort of confrontation. It’s something you’ve been having to adjust to lately.

“We can share the bed. I didn’t mean to make it seem like it was a bad thing,” he says. Sometimes you think he can read your mind.

“Okay,” you say, making room for him. He turns off the lamp and climbs in next to you, making sure to leave a big enough gap so he doesn’t touch you. Even in the dark, it’s obvious that he’s lying halfway off the mattress.

“You can come closer,” you say. God forbid he falls onto the floor in the middle of the night and it’s your fault for hogging all of the bed.

He moves inward, your faces so close that your noses are nearly touching. You could probably count his freckles from here.

Sure, every once in a while, you’ll lay your head on his shoulder or he’ll lay his in your lap, but this is much more intimate. Suddenly, your heartbeat feels too fast to fall asleep anymore.

“Y/N,” Kai whispers, although he already has your full attention. You like the way he says your name. His fingers grip your waist under the sheets, bringing you even closer. 

You tremble under his touch, his eyes locked on yours. This is a dangerous game.

In seconds, his mouth is pressed against yours, desperate and hungry. You’ve been kissed by boys before, but never like this. You can’t get enough of him.

You run your fingers through his hair, still soft even after several sessions of bleach. Like that night in the cab, you feel him hard against you, except now it’s intentional. It feels good.

Kai climbs on top of you, finding his way between your legs without breaking the kiss. You wonder how often he’s done this.

“We shouldn’t,” you breathe as he presses kisses along your collarbone, although it’s lost between your heavy sighs.

His hand grazes the waistband of your shorts. Visions of him doing the same with other girls—specifically the one from that morning—pop into your head. Panicking, you pull away from his kiss, using all of your strength to push him off of you.

“Y/N?” he asks, his lips puffy and his brows knitted in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” you say, tugging down the hemline of your t-shirt, which had ridden up during the exchange. You hop off the bed and attempt to find your sneakers in the dark.

“Please don’t go,” he pleads with you, grabbing onto your wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was stupid.”

You turn back to him, tears welling up in your eyes. “It was stupid?”

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just—I don’t want to do anything that could ruin our friendship. You mean too much to me, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how much I wanted to and no matter how good it felt.”

“It felt good?” you say, stepping towards him. It’s a relief to know he at least enjoyed it as much as you did.

“Really good,” Kai admits. “But it shouldn’t have happened. I can’t risk losing you.”

“Right.” It’s a really good point. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

“So… no kissing.”

“No kissing,” you agree.

“Anything else off the table?” He asks this in a way that you can’t tell if he’s flirting with you or not. You decide to take the risk and step closer to him. 

“I think cuddling is fair game. It would be too great a loss to our friendship.” You hold his hand.

“Mhmm, definitely.” He helps you climb back onto the bed before following suit, pressing his chest to your back, enveloping you in his warmth.

“You know, if I had you around in the wintertime, I’d save a lot on my heating bill,” you point out. 

“Go to sleep, silly,” Kai laughs, nuzzling his head into the nook above your shoulder. 

“Fine. Goodnight,” you yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispers, although you’re already sound asleep, your soft snores filling the room.

—————-

When you wake up, Kai is gone. He’s left a note on the bedside table that reads: Went to get breakfast. Be back soon :-)

You stumble into the living room, rubbing your eyes as sunlight streams through the balcony doors. Yeonjun sits at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and watching footage from the group’s latest dance rehearsal.

“Be honest, did you and Huening fuck last night?”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Come on, Y/N. I heard some suspicious shit when I went to the kitchen to grab water and unless he’s doing some magical switcharoo, you’ve been the only girl around for the last few months.”

“Is this some weird cross examination? Are you going to compare my story to his?” You try not to smile at the notion that Kai has stopped seeing other girls, but it makes you giddy.

“I wish. He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Yeonjun huffs.

“Well, if you must know, we made out for a few minutes. I panicked. He panicked. We both agreed to never do it again. End of story.”

“That’s no fun.”

“It’s not, but it prevents us from doing something we might regret and breaking up the entire friend group.”

“Do you like him like that?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.”

“It kind of does, Y/N. I’m pretty sure that boy is head over heels in love with you.”

The thought of Huening Kai being in love with you stops you dead in your tracks. Your Kai, secretly pining for your affection? You decide that it’s nothing more than a fantasy.

“That’s impossible,” you shrug. “It was just a moment of weakness between two friends. Nothing more, okay?”

Before you can discuss this any further, Kai is walking through the front door, coffee and pastries in hand.

“Y/N, you’re awake! I was scared I’d have to get you out of bed myself. Yeonjun was warning me how grumpy you are in the mornings.”

“She’s a monster,” Yeonjun says. You flick him on the side of the head. “Ouchie.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he giggles, unpacking enough doughnuts to feed an army. “I didn’t know which one you wanted, Y/N, so I just tried to pick ones I thought you’d like.” 

“I love honeydew, so you picked well,” you say, taking a bite of one with bright green filling. “Mmm! Where’d you get these?”

“Old Ferry Donut. It’s across town, but totally worth the trip. I go with my sisters all the time. You should come with us next time.”

“Ooh, introducing Y/N to the family. It’s getting serious,” Yeonjun teases. Kai shoots him a dirty look. He takes the hint, grabbing a couple of doughnuts on the way back to his bedroom.

“He can be such a dick sometimes,” Kai sighs.

“Yes, but he’s our dick,” you insist, trying not to let him ruin the moment.

“I suppose that’s true,” he laughs. It always makes you feel good about yourself whenever you manage to cheer him up. Usually, that’s his job with you. “I’d really like for Lea and Hiyyih to meet you, though. I think you’d all get along super well.”

“Then let’s set something up. I’m free all day,” you say, your mouth full of food.

“Really, Y/N?” Kai asks. You nod in agreement and his eyes light up at your enthusiasm. “This is awesome! I’ll text them right now!”

Maybe, just maybe, he really is in love with you.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28  @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @niningtori @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @lixpixstix @reiheis

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don’t want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3

[blu3-ja3]

Chapter 1: Downtown

Chapter 2

Simon Riley was an excellent soldier... Key word being was. After an unfortunate series of events Simon was deemed unfit for active duty military and was put into forced retirement. From there everything seemed to continue falling apart, his landlord giving him the boot, his job firing him, and the final nail in the coffin; his car being totaled in an accident that he wasn't even around to see. That car was his only life line, he'd been living out of it for months but then it was gone.

Simon did the one thing he could think of and reached out to the one person he knew that could help... And that's how he ended up in the entrance of a random alleyway near Piccadilly Square with all his worldly possession in a box and a large trash bag. He's here to meet up with his old captain and closet thing to a father figure one John Price.

Who has yet to show up which is making Simon anxious, though he doubts anyone could tell. What with his skull face mask and black hood obscuring everything but his eyes.

"Simon?" A familiar voice calls out.

Turning rapidly at the name Simon sees the man he's been waiting for walking towards him from his left. Price is the same as Simon remembers, kind eyes, nice beard and bucket hat. It gives a small bit of comfort to Simon to know not everyone drastically changes when coming back to civilian life.

"Come on, follow me! This cold is doin' horrible things to my leg." Price takes the lead leaning heavily against a cane on his left.

Simon follows quietly behind the man as they make their way further into the alleyway. They turn into a small alcove hidden well, as they get closer Simon can see neon blue light flooding a small staircase leading down.

As they begin to descend down, the walls are covered in graffiti designs that all pop out well under the neon. Simon notices a man standing in front of a door; also covered in the designs. Price approaches and gives the man a firm hand shake before pulling him into a hug.

"I still have to see your ID Price, Mom will have my head if I don't." The voice caught Simon off guard, he's an American and from the south.

"Here you go Graves, Simon got an ID?" Price was looking back towards him with a smile across his face. "Anything will do, this muppet just has to know you're legal to drink."

Simon balances the box in one arm, reaches into his hoodie pocket, pulls out his old, beaten up wallet and produces his ID. It's the newest thing he owns and the reason he wasn't in his car when it was totaled. Small mercies that's all he gets.

"Right you boys have a good time," The american, Graves, opens the door. It's only then that Simon notices the neon sign above it that has illuminated the entire encounter, 141. Simon assumes it's the address of the building.

Price shuffles in followed closely behind by Simon. They enter into a relatively large room with seating and booths taking up a small portion of the area, there's a bar near there with another figure. The vast majority of the space is taken up by a large dance floor, a vast majority of the lights are dim and the only two well lit areas are the bar and a DJ's booth against the furthest wall. Another figure seems to be working behind it but it's hard to make them out.

Price walks over to the bar and leans against it waiting for the bartender to greet him. After a bit of time the young man turns towards Price, he has short dark hair, freckles all over his face or at least where a black mask isn't covering it. He's cleaning a glass as he turns cocking his head to the side like a dog.

"Gary, how've you been?" Simon watches as the man sets down his glasses and begins making rapid hand gestures that Simon recognizes as BSL. Sadly he doesn't know enough to understand what he's saying.

But Price does and they hold a bit of conversation for a bit before Price asks for Mom, who Simon assumes is the owner. The bartender, Gary, gestured up before turning back to his work. Price thanked the man before turning and walking towards the DJ's booth, Simon again follows. Once approached Price calls out a greeting towards the figure, Sam, who keeps working and only raises a hand to wave.

Simon didn't notice the door immediately, it was well hidden behind the booth in shadow. Price walked through a small set of stairs that led to a small hallway with 3 doors, one to the left and right and one straight ahead. The one straight ahead had a little sign on it that read; Welcome to O'Connor's, Play Nice & No Rough Housing In My Bar. Price opened the door and stepped to the side to let Simon in first.

Simon is immediately greeted by a two tiered well lit room. Straight ahead is another door with windows lining the wall, he can see a small cobbled road and paved sidewalks lined with other buildings and shops. There are booths lining the windowed wall and the wall to the right of Simon, the wall to the left of him is covered in multiple pictures and a set of wooden double doors that seem to swing open. Directly to Simon's left is a large bar surrounded by stools with a large shelf behind it that's filled with various bottles of liquor.

There's a man sitting at a booth sitting next to two women all chatting, there's two men sitting at the bar watching the TV that has a football (soccer) game going. Price walks over to the table first patting the man on the back while talking to one of the women. Simon learns the man's name is Nikoli and the couple is Sarah and Kate Laswell. Simon has heard a couple of stories about Nik and Kate while serving under Price before the captain had his untimely accident that took left leg that is now a prosthetic.

Price introduced Simon to Alejandro and Rudy who were the two gentlemen at the bar, when there was a small chiming sound as a man and a woman stepped in and everyone seemed to light up.

"Farah! Alex! I didn't know you two were back in town! How's your family Farah?"

"Hello! We got back late last night, they're doing good. Dad says hello John!" The woman, Farah, gave everyone hugs as the man Alex gives a firm hand shake to Nik and Price.

"Where's Mom?" Alex, another American who again caught Simon off guard. Simon wasn't surprised by Kate as Price made a great many jokes about it.

" She is in the kitchen!" Rudy supplied smiling as he turned towards Price.

"She's making a fresh bre- NO!" Alejandro begins speaking in Spanish as Rudy starts laughing patting the man on the back. Simon is a little caught off guard with the variety of people here, with Nik being Russian, The Laswell couple, Alex, and Graves all being Americans, Farah being from Urzikstan, and Alejandro & Ruby being from Mexico. Simon's thoughts are cut short as the double doors swing open.

A man wearing a similar outfit to Gary's comes in, he's wearing a black button up and black slacks but where Gary has a purple bowtie this man had nothing but in his chest pocket he had a little red pocket square. He's carrying a large planter with multiple plates of food that he hands to those sitting at the table. Once he's done he turns around. When he smiles Simon feels like he's looking at the sun, it's so bright.

"Price! Good to see you, Mom told me you'd be stopping by!" The man steps behind the bar getting drinks for Farah and Alex.

Price guides Simon into the kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and simmering beef stew wafted into Simon's face. There was another man standing at a stove humming to music that was being played further into the kitchen. Price walked over to him and leaned against the wall next to the wall and started chatting with him. Kyle was the name Simon heard.

"Oh! Simon just walk towards music and looks for the woman with ginger hair, let her know I sent you..." Price smiled reassuringly at Simon before going back to the conversation with Kyle.

Simon did as he was told and began to walk further into the kitchen following the music playing. He rounds a corner to see a woman with ginger hair, long white sleeve rolled up as she's kneading dough.

"Excuse me? Are you Mom? Price told me to find you." Simon said after clearing his throat.

The woman looks at him and smiles sweetly before putting the dough into a tray and slipping it into the oven next to her. She removes her apron and washes her hands quickly before walking towards Simon. Holding out a hand and as Simon grips it to shake she begins to talk.

"Nice to meet you lad, Maevis O'Connor but most everyone calls me Mom. If you'd like to follow me we can have a proper discussion while we sit..." She steps past Simon guilding him yet again. As they pass Price and Kyle she speaks up again.

"Kyle darling the bread is in the oven, the timers are set. You'll be the only one here, make sure John doesn't burn down my kitchen won't you?"

"Yes ma'am, Shepherd's Pie is almost done so I'll watch for the bread." O'Connor nods smiling so sweetly towards Kyle.

"Oh come now Maeve I won't burn down your kitchen!"

" If you keep distracting my head chief you will... Mind yourself this is my kitchen and I keep my knives very sharp John!" She says as she pushes through the doors holding one open for Simon.

She points towards a small booth in the far corner closest to the door Simon had originally entered from. Simon goes to sit down as O'Connor says a few words to everyone after walking behind the bar and grabbing a small piece of paper. She hands it to Simon before sitting across from him.

Simon looks down to see a small menu with four meals on it. His confusion must be visible in his eyes because O'Connor speaks up.

"Pick one and we'll bring it out for you lad!" The same sweet smile across her face.

"Ah no I'm good, I'm not hungry!" As if to call Simon out on the lie his stomach growls.

O'Connor tilts her head at him but before she can say anything the bartender appears at their table.

"What can I get for you tonight?"

"Nothing I'm good..." Simon says again hoping he stomach doesn't betray him again.

He hears O'Connor sigh before ordering a slice of Shepard's pie then looking to him

"What's your drink of choice lad?" Simon again tries to deny to no avail.

"John! What the hell does this stubborn git drink?"

Price who'd sat at the table with Nik, Sarah and Kate have their own booth eating together, turns towards them before yelling back.

"Kentucky bourbon, neat!" Price smiled at Simon as though he could see betrayal on Simon's face even with the mask on.

"Like a good ol' boy" the bartender gives Simon a wolfish smile that makes his heart stutter and his lower half jump. He's extremely thankful for his mask as it hides his blush that's definitely spreading across his face.

"Down MacTavish, no need for that. You've got what you need here." O'Connor swatted his arm, the man MacTavish laughed hard before ducking into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about him... So you're Simon! I'm sorry to hear about your bad luck lad but hopefully I can help you turn that around. I've got a few spots open for both the bar and the club, which ever is preferred. There's a few potions open in the kitchen and doorman/bouncer for the nightclub." Simon and O'Connor talk about what the jobs would entail and how much he'd make per hour. Simon decides on the bouncer and doorman position.

"Are you still interested in living here? I don't know if John told you or not but you'll have a roommate. MacTavish has a spare room that he's already cleared out and set up. All you have to do is move in, if you're interested."

"Yes, Price told me and I'm more than okay with a roommate." After they confirmed a few details O'Connor left to grab some paper work for Simon to fill out, while walking away she stopped MacTavish who'd just walked out with Simon's food. He sat it down and came back with the bourbon.

"Do you mind if I take this seat? I figured we should chat a bit if you'll be moving in. So I'm John MacTavish but the regulars calls me Soap... Expect for Mom." Again Simon's heart flutters at the smile Soap flashes him.

"Johnny, what's with the nickname?"

"There wasn't an automatic dishwasher when I started working here so I used to do it. I always had soap suds in my hair when I came back to the bar, eventually the regulars took to calling me Soap... It stuck."

"O'Connor mentioned everyone who works here is former military, what did you do?"

"Demolitions! Had a knack for blowing things up, happened to be too close to one of my explosions. Can't hear well enough to continue service... Got to Sergeant Major, what about you?"

"lnfantry, Lieutenant... Psych evaluations didn't go how they'd like."

"Lieutenant huh? Want me to call you LT?" Same wolfish smile and a quirk of his eyebrow, Simon couldn't handle how his heart fluttered.

"No thanks Johnny, Simon's fine."

O'Connor came back with the papers and a pen and sat them down in front of Simon, "Just fill this out and set it on the bar, Tavish your off the clock I'll man the bar. Help Simon get settled in and show him around... Tomorrow's Sunday so I'll train you on what you're expected to do, Simon and introduce you to the team."

"Thank you for this, it's greatly appreciated Ms. O'Connor."

"Call me Mom, lad... I'm sure the regulars will come up with a nickname for you. Goodnight boys." O'Connor walks to the bar as more people begin to trickle in.

After Simon finishes his food and drink as well as the paperwork for O'Connor. The whole time he sat silently while Johnny chatted away, normally Simon would have told anyone talking to him this much to piss off. But for whatever reason he didn't find himself annoyed at Johnny and his constant chatter, Simon even responded and asked his own questions.

"When you're ready, follow me." John wink at Simon who was forever grateful that he's wearing a face mask because the amount this man makes him blush isn't fair. "You got anything else you'll need help grabbing?"

"No just the box and bag... Didn't have much before the military." Johnny nods before leading Simon back through the door he came through originally.

John pointed to the door on their left and lets Simon know that it leads to O'Connor's flat, it's the smallest one. It also leads to O'Connor's office in case Simon ever needs to know.

They go up passing a small landing with a door, which Johnny informed him was Roach (Gary) and Sam's flat. They get to the second landing and stop, Simon learns the Gaz (Kyle) lives on the floor above them and that there's a large roof access that everyone in the building is allowed to use.

Johnny opens the door to reveal a decent sized living room with a dining area and a nice kitchen. There are two doors to Simon's right and another on his left between the kitchen and living room. The door on the left is revealed to be their bathroom which was an okay size just very long. The first door on the right is John's room.

Simon's room is already slightly furnished, there's a big bed against the far fall, a dresser next to the door and a closet in the wall him and John share. It's simple and a lot more than what Simon was originally expecting, he's left to unpack his room which isn't much, all of his clothes fit into the first two dresser draws and everything in the box stays in the box under the bed. Simon leaves the room to put his bathroom supplies away. As he enters the living room he's greeted by an unholy sight that makes his heart stop beating and everything else to rush downstairs.

Johnny is sprawled out over the couch in his work clothes, his buttons down opened just enough for Simon to catch a glimpse of his well built chest and the faintest dusting of brown chest hair. His head is leaned back and tilted at just an angle that the light catches every feature of his face and highlights it gorgeously. His arm on the top of the couch perfectly flexing and his legs spread open just right to make the black slacks he's wearing to strain against him perfectly. He's a vision that Simon wants to devour...

Then he opens his eyes and it's like Simon is adrift in the sea, such a crystal clear blue that swallows him entirely. He can feel himself step forward as Johnny smiles at him like Simon's being lured in. Finally though his brain catches up and Simon clears his throat.

"Where should I put these in the bathroom?"

"There's a shelf next to the bath, half of the cabinet below the sink is yours along with the top two shelves behind the mirror." Simon is quick to lock himself away in the bathroom, he's struggling to keep himself calm. Just by looking at him Johnny has made him an absolute wreck. Simon eventually sorts out where his stuff goes before leaving.

Simon leaves and is greeted by Johnny leaving his room in a simple tank top and sweats. Simon walks out trying not to stare when the man lifts his arms high above his head to stretch and lets out the most sinful groan of relief. Simon felt his mouth go dry and his hand ached as they were curled into fists. This was going to be hard on him but he's sure he can deal.

Simon can absolutely deal with his hot as sin roommate.

[maracujatangerine]

Ohhhh, for the ask game I'd like to suggest a Special Treat of their choice for Brutus please. :D

72. A well-earned reward

CW: aftermath of violence, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

Master unclipped the hook from the metal ring on the guard dog’s black collar. He was beaming.

“Good job, boy!”

Wayland Jones even clapped the muscular pet on the shoulder, before Brutus obediently stepped into the cage.

“Thank you, Master!” The wave of pride and joy that rose within him was almost enough to wash away the pain from countless cuts and bruises. “I live to serve.”

“And serve well you did! You winning today gave me quite a tidy sum.” With a flourish, he handed over a white paper bag. “Don’t say that I’m not grateful. I brought you your favourite treat.”

“Thank you, thank you so much, Master.”

The door to the cage clanged shut and Wayland closed the padlock with a sharp click. He turned away, humming to himself as he was walking down the row of cages, like cells or storage compartments with concrete floors, each floor-to-ceiling space divided by wooden supports and chicken wire. As it was still early in the evening, the other cages were empty.

Brutus stood to attention, respectfully keeping his gaze on his Master through all the chicken wire until Wayland Jones passed out of view.

Not until then did he allow himself to gingerly sit down on the bare concrete floor. Master would be gone for many hours, drinking and gambling and celebrating his victory.

Brutus turned his mind away from the unpleasant feeling of sweat and crusted blood drying on his skin. He was still fortunate. Each cage had chains bolted to the floor for more unruly fighters, but Master had not decided to use them for his pet.

With eager anticipation, Brutus pulled out a white styrofoam box from the bag. His Master had been generous, there was a bottle of water in the bag too, but the fighter’s attention was rapt as he opened the box.

Oh, joy of joys. The feast inside exceeded even his most extravagant hopes. A fluffy bubble waffle, filled with fruit salad with strawberries, banana, chunks of apple and pear, rich vanilla and chocolate ice cream, whipped cream and chocolate sauce drizzled on top.

Ignoring the sharp iron smell of the blood on his hands, Brutus immersed himself in enjoying the waffle. The perfect balance between crispiness and a soft interior waffle, fresh fruit, the refreshing cool of the ice cream and the intense sweetness of the chocolate sauce. It was heaven.

As Brutus was eating, footsteps approached.

“You should be grateful I dragged your fleabag ass to the vet.” A man‘s angry voice. “A dislocated shoulder is no excuse for losing like that. No reward for you tonight, Jazz.”

The owner unceremoniously unclipped the blonde guard dog’s leash and clanged the door shut. After making sure the padlock held, he walked away without a backwards glance.

Brutus’ opponent gave him a resentful side eye and sat down at the far end of his cage, curling himself protectively around his right arm bound up in a sling.

Brutus watched him from the corner of his eye. It had been a fair fight, one could almost say it had been a good fight. He and Jazz were evenly matched. There had been some extra skill, Brutus prided himself, but he had to admit that it was mostly luck calling the shots of the outcome tonight.

Thoughtfully, the guard dog tore off a piece of the remaining waffle. It was not the best piece, not the soft middle part drenched in melting ice cream, but still a hefty chunk with a good amount of chocolate sauce and a few pieces of fruit on it.

He took it gingerly between a thumb and index finger, careful to not get too much of the crusted blood on the food. Then, he reached out towards the fence between them.

“Do you want a piece?”

The other fighter watched him warily, but gave him a curt nod. Slowly, with his blue eyes on Brutus’ face, he approached the barrier.

Jazz grabbed the proffered food quickly, as if he had expected it to be snatched away at the last moment. Then, he sat down, wincing, and took a bite of the treat.

“Thank you.”

They ate the remaining pieces of the waffle in silence, side by side in their cages.

*

Thank you for this intriguing ask @shiningstarofwinter 💖 I hope you’ll enjoy it. ☺️

Fun facts

Bubble waffles (gai daan jai) are originally from Hong Kong and were invented in the 1950’s. It was most likely a way for businesses to use unsold eggs and flour.

In the beginning, people usually couldn’t afford a whole waffle. Instead, larger waffles were made and sold so that one would just buy one bubble as a snack.

Bubble waffles were seen as healthy and nutritious. (If you have problems with affording enough calories, a waffle stuffed with eggs is a pretty good choice.)

Bubble waffles were traditionally sold plain, but now they are eaten with all sorts of fillings and often used as an ice cream cone.

Do you have more fun facts about bubble waffles? Have you tried them, and if so, what did you think?

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