#he wanted to be your friend but he'd already been building up this plan for 15 years he thought there was no return so he fights you anyway?

[claitea]

i wish they'd started giving the protags their own personality ingame sooner like can you imagine if bw had the same kind of dialogue options for n as there are for kieran. "he's a friend!" vs "he's... a friend" something as simple as that Destroyed me in indigo disk i dont know what it would have done to me if it was in bw

[nariism]

another sunny day — i. rin

handcuffed together + matchmaking gone wrong

synopsis. rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. or: blue lock tries to play matchmaker with a flustered loser and their terribly unfriendly teammate.

wc. ~1.1k

— for @jenoutof10 🤞 | event masterlist ✉️

"don't be mad, but..."

rin's eye twitches.

4 words. 4 measly words is all it takes for his blood pressure to start rising. that, and the fact that isagi can't meet his bloodthirsty gaze.

in all the time that he's had the displeasure of knowing these morons, he's come to know one simple fact: nothing good ever happens when they break news starting with 'don't be mad'.

before his teammates can even get a chance to explain further, rin interjects.

"you lost it, didn't you? you fucking lost it."

bachira's lips just press into a thin line, mischief missing from his expression where it usually permanently dances. now, he just looks utterly terrified and a little guilty.

"hey, but there are worse people to be cuffed to!" bachira nervously states. and at that, all eyes land on you.

you'd been hoping that maybe rin's temperment would have drawn all attention away from you right now—that they at least wouldn't have to witness the absolute despair in your face realizing you've been cuffed to your long-term crush for an indefinite amount of time.

but their eyes are heavy on you, trying to scrutinize your reaction. you want nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

the chains connecting you jingle impossibly loud as silence fills the room. you flounder slightly, caught off guard by the collective weight of everyone's eyes, and rin seems to understand how dire your situation is. he quickly gathers everyone's attention back to himself.

"you all better crawl on your hands and knees until you find that fucking key."

to think that an entire group of people could have gone through with something so stupid—rin doesn't get how his "friends" can come up with such insane ideas. like, seriously. handcuffing the two of you together as a last ditch attempt to solve the last puzzle of their escape room? he would probably be laughing at their idiocy if he wasn't the one locked to your side right now.

and why him, of all people? was it so obvious that he was maybe, kind of, sort of a little into you? no, impossible. he's incredibly good at hiding his feelings for you, so much that he's completely stone-faced while you're busy panicking beside him.

what should have been an innocent team-building exercise put together by their calm and collected manager has suddenly turned you into a blithering fool and him into a cranky asshole.

he'd always had suspicions that you'd liked him, never able to look him straight in the eye without fidgeting and messaging him out of the blue for seemingly insignificant reasons. ("did you try the new garigari-kun flavour?" or "i saw this cat that reminded me of you," and even "did you eat dinner yet?")

if you had told his teammates, you made a grave error. a fatal mistake. because they were all half-wits who would want nothing more than to try playing cupid, and he knows that only they could come up with a plan so stupid and still claim it to be foolproof.

frantically searching for the key, they get to work scouring the floor and drawers—anywhere they could have left it in the last twenty minutes. he takes the opportunity to focus on his breathing, as his therapist had advised him to do when he was feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"you okay?" rin asks quietly, lathering a hand down his face in exasperation. you hum nervously, clutching yourself instinctively. it draws his hand closer to your body but he doesn't mention it, instead letting it dangle limply in front of you. the warmth emanating from you makes him realize just how frazzled you are.

he decides he should guide you to the next room where it's quieter, all the puzzles already solved and abandoned. he sits you down on the sofa, standing in front of you with your hands connected in the middle.

"what if we're locked together forever?" you murmur.

rin looks at you in confusion, perplexed by your sudden loss of functioning brain cells. you were always so rational, it's strange to see you so...

you meet his intense stare and the rest of his train of thought derails into a disastrous dumpster fire.

"i... don't think that'll happen."

"but what if we are?"

"there are worse people i could be locked to."

silence suffocates you. rin blinks at you, but doesn't back down as you fumble over your own tongue.

"you think so?" you finally manage out.

god almighty, you need to break this eye contact before he shrivels up and dies. okay, so maybe his feelings for you aren't entirely miniscule, but that doesn't mean he's going to get any enjoyment out of this.

he scoffs, gesturing to the next room. "at least it's you and not them."

you sputter in embarrassment, hand yanking toward your face as you try and cover your cheeks with your palms. his hand follows, nearly smacking you in the nose but you don't seem to care or even notice.

he slowly seats himself beside you, dragging your conjoined hands back between your bodies and settling on the couch.

"i hate this," you admit. "it feels claustrophobic."

rin knows exactly what you mean. your hand is inches away from being in his—he can hardly breathe. he would rather eat natto every day for the rest of his life than come to terms with that, though, so instead he just sneers at you funny.

"you have claustrophobia?"

"i just mean that we're so close right now."

"so?"

you gulp loudly. "and—" you sigh, breaths shaking. "well, you're sort of right. i guess it could be worse."

"...you're weird," he tells you.

your lips quirk up into a tiny smile, so small that he would have missed it if he weren't chained to your side right now. for a moment, he almost forgets all about why he's even in this situation in the first place.

"sorry," you stammer, fingers fumbling around with the hem of your sweater. "i hope they find that key soon."

he stares at you for a few more seconds, tries to trace the outline of your face with his eyes and memorize the curve of your smile.

"yeah," he lies. "me too."

("is it working?"

"i don't know, i can't hear them!"

"shh," chigiri hisses. "i'm trying to listen!"

rin puts his head into his hands at their volume, bringing your hand along with his motion. he glares in their direction, catching a glimpse of his team stacked on top of each other as they peer into the room.

"idiots..." he mutters. you look at him, puzzled. "i'm surrounded by idiots.")

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[momotonescreaming]

STWG Daily Prompt: Date Night

“Does Thursday work?” Jeff asks, voice tinny and sort of muffled. Eddie can hear the sound of flipping pages, the creak of the plastic from the phone's speaker. 

“Shit, sorry dude.” Eddie says, looking at the loose pages of lined paper he's scribbled his schedule on. It works for him, and it's better than nothing. “That's date night.” 

A pause. For a moment, all Eddie can hear is the sound of Jeff breathing through the speaker. 

“Date night, huh?” Jeff eventually asks, and Eddie can hear the smarmy grin he's wearing. It's leaking into his voice, the absolute delight in it all. Just the right side of teasing, the bastard. He'd hate it, would snap and snarl and throw it all back if he wasn't also fucking delighted. 

He could say that now. He had a boyfriend, who holds his hands and kisses him and schedules date nights. He gets this. He gets to talk about it with his best friend. Can mention he has a date and doesn't have to hide the fact that it's with his boyfriend. He gets to share in the gentle ribbing for once. It's not just him on the outside looking in — as they tease Gareth for getting a date with a girl from his English class, or Jeff hitting his anniversary with his girlfriend. 

Eddie's been domesticated and he doesn't mind in the slightest. 

“Yes, it's date night,” Eddie retorts, trying to send as much faux malice down the phone as he can. He's smiling though, as he sits at the kitchen table, phone cord absently tangled through his fingers. “And Steve's been working hard planning it, so I will not be rescheduling.” 

“I didn't ask you to,” Jeff laughs, tone light. 

“Well good.” Eddie teases, wishing they were having this conversation in person so he could stick his tongue out. Really ham it up. 

Another pause, and Eddie uses the silence to flip through his papers, looking through all the events and dates and times he's scribbled out. Fuck, he really needs a calendar. 

“So?” Jeff prompts, drawing the word out. “Tell me about date night.” 

“You sound like your mother,” Eddie laughs, holding the phone in between his ear and his shoulder, pinning it there so he can free up his hands. So he can sort through his papers and fidget with the phone cord at the same time “Begging for gossip.” 

“You love my mother,” Jeff retorts — snappish — but it's obvious he's smiling. Laughing through it. “And you say that like you aren't gagging to talk about it. Come on.” 

“Okay fine,” Eddie relents. Sighing as he sinks into his chair, slouching, his socked feet skating across the floor. “You caught me.” 

“Not hard,” Jeff laughs. 

“Steve’s been talking a lot about wooing me lately,” Eddie starts, ignoring Jeff’s teasing. He finds himself smiling as he talks, creeping across his face uncontrollably. Fuck, the things Steve does to him. “As if he hasn’t wooed me already. So he’s planned this like, romantic dinner at home. Instead of going out to Enzo’s he wants to like, bring Enzo’s to us? Said he was going to treat me right. Have the fancy dinner I deserve, where we can play footsie under the table and hold hands without, y’know, worrying.”

By the end of his sentence Eddie’s feeling like he’s melting into his chair, insides melting into something soft and gooey. Pulling his hair across his face to hide his blush. Jeff can’t even see him, but he can’t help it. He wants to giggle and kick his feet. Jump and scream and flail around. It’s all building up inside him, this honey sweet affection. He doesn’t quite know what to do with it all. 

“He going to light candles? Have soft music playing in the background?” Jeff asks, teasing melting away into something softer. 

“Literally yes,” Eddie exclaims, dropping his hair and trying not to wiggle too much in his seat. “He’s so sweet, I’m going to throw up.”

“He’s good for you, man.” Jeff says simply, and it means a lot. That other people can see it — can know — just how happy Steve makes him. 

[Part Two]

[14dayswithyou]

I was thinking over the landlord situation because a small detail stuck in my mind. Ren seemed surprised that the issues in Angel's building weren't being dealt with.

Possibly it's just that a negligent landlord would never happen to him with his fancy apartment, or he owns it, and he's out of touch with normal renting problems.

But for fun maybe he secretly is the landlord and wasn't getting the complaints because he doesn’t pay much attention to duties? Is he getting the complaints but putting himself in the position to fix them as 'Ren', impressing Angel? He already volunteered for guard dog duty against… himself.

Was it faked surprise because he's responsible for causing those issues for his own benefit? 

I feel Ren potentially did ruin the air mattress in advance hoping to be invited into the bed, blaming rats when it was discovered. Maybe it was done that day while waiting for Angel to get off work. 

Maybe he remotely jammed the elevator too because... idk why he'd do that, there should be cameras already in the lift and they should be hackable. Or maybe he just uses the stairs for stealth and only spies on Angel’s flat, so genuinely didn't know the crappy elevator wasn't working. Possible. Maybe he also wants the flat to be shitty and seem dangerous to push Angel into moving in with him.

Perhaps Ren knows who the landlord is and was surprised for that reason? It's not likely that he's installed a friend into the job if he's a loner, but I think he did once have family friends (of his parents) into some shady business. Perhaps they pivoted their legit real estate investments into a money laundering front and no longer attend to the tenants needs well. Maybe he knows the building layout from visiting them years ago as a child, and that's how he avoids being caught.

Or is Ren making a mental note to kill the bad landlord for inconveniencing Angel? and potentially take over the job

Anyway don't mind me, I like to puzzle on things.

✦゜ANSWERED: In case some folks might not know: if you make the right choices, you can actually meet the landlord in Day 3 instead of Olivia! They also address the rat complaints — though their response is kinda meme-y — and the overall scene isn't intended to be taken seriously.

Ren, however, does know the landlord’s identity already, but doesn’t do anything about it because they actively play a massive role in his plans.

⚠️ Day 3 + general lore spoilers under the cut!! ⚠️

Essentially, Ren wants Angel to move in with him — which is why he’s so adamant on giving them a key to his place. And like you picked up on; he keeps bringing up how awful it is to live in Angel’s neighbourhood in hopes of having them realise this and depend on Ren instead. After all, the only thing he wants is to be Angel's top priority and the person they go to first in any given situation.

Ren is also no stranger to rent problems while growing up. I've mentioned this before, but prior to living in a small, rundown home; Ren and his family used to live in a trailer park. There was hardly much room or privacy for everyone, and the maintenance there was awful.

I do like the theory about Ren using shady connections between his friends/family for his bidding!! Canonically though, Ren has no friends outside of Angel and River, and he hasn't been in contact with any of his blood relations in years.

Also!! I do want to restate that the rats in the demo genuinely are rats. It wasn't Ren tearing up a hole in Angel's mattress (he didn’t think you'd invite him over in Day 1 + he respects your comfort level), but it was him stealing specific items.

[cheriladycl01]

I'm not scared! Colby Brock x MotoGPDriver! Reader Part 4

Plot: You made a tweet about Sam and Colby and were in a podcast and they brought up Sam and Colby where you talked about the paranormal and how it doesn't really scare you because you drive motorcycles at over 200mph.

Credit to misscalliopecruz for the GIF

You didn't realize just how easy it was for Sam and Colby to make calls to these haunted locations and be given permissions to film investigations.

You'd been set up for literally 3 days time which made you guys feel even more excited as it was such short notice. Colby and Sam spent the time charging all the equipment, booking hotels and doing all the admin stuff you'd offered to help them with but they'd refused saying you should try and get a few good nights of sleep while you could, so you stayed in your flat making sure you had a comfy enough outfit ready to go in.

Colby had practically begged you to wear their merch, so of course you took the hoodie he'd given to you. You'd planned to wear it with a pair of bootleg jeans as even though it was very clearly British Time you gathered in the middle of the night in an old creepy castle it would get cold. Which is why you were thankful for the hoodie rather than a top as the piece of merch Colby gifted you.

You kind of wanted to make Colby and Sam wear some of you Red Bull Merch but thought maybe that was going a bit too far so you left them packed away in the rucksack you were going to be taking with you.

You had a later night on the day before the investigation so you were able to stay up till around 4 or 5am, ending up waking up for around 11am. You did your morning workout before getting something to eat and had a slow evening before meeting up with the boys.

"Are you okay driving?" Colby asks as you all walk down to the car park of the hotel they were staying in.

"Any reason, or just because I'm the better driver?" you smirk, knowing full well you were the better driver.

"I just don't like driving in the UK, it's way more complicated than the US, those roundabouts... wild things!" he jokes, even though there was some truth to it.

"Yeah sure, I don't mind... but If I'm driving its my Spotify playlist on shuffle..." you reason and they both nod agreeing, not petty enough to start a disagreement over music, especially when you guys would probably have similar music tastes.

The drive to the castle was fun, you were all talking about the history you guys had researched and what was there.

When you pulled up, you got this zing of excitement down you spine.

"Guys, I'm really excited for this" you exclaim looking back at them getting all the stuff out the car while you were in awe of the building.

It was a huge location and you already knew that the boys would challenge you to go somewhere alone because of how big it was.

The boys got out their camera and you waited off to the side as they did their intro.

"What's up guys its Sam and Colby and today we are here a Dannamore Castle in the UK, one of the most haunted Castles in the world!" Colby says with that normal cryptic sort of look on his face.

"And as you guys probably expected from our recent trip to see out good friend, today we have Y/N Y/L/N here with us!" Sam introduces panning the camera round to you making you smile and bunch up closer to them.

"Hey!" you grin and the boys turn to you.

"Okay for those who don't know Y/N is a MotoGP rider to she basically rides motorbikes really quickly round race-tracks for a living and she's really good at it too. The reason she is here is because she said she wouldn't be scared to come onto one of our videos and we really want to put that to the test" Colby mentions and you blush at the praise, entirely used to but it still got you every time.

They cut the cameras after showing the outside of the area saying that they'd be filming a lot of the history out-takes in their studio at home and having watched their videos you knew what they meant.

Two men and a lady came out, one was the caretaker, another was a tour guide and the other a medium of sorts that worked with the place.

Sam and Colby started to talk to the caretaker that would help in showing you round later when you walked off.

You thought you saw something dash out the corner of your eye, Sam and Colby were too busy listening too all the ins and outs of the area, what rooms you didn't have access to which in this particular castle wasn't actually that many just the unsafe spaces where the wooden flooring had gotten too old and they hadn't rebuilt it yet.

"Where's your friend?" the caretaker asks seeing that the girl wasn't where she had been a minute ago.

The others look around trying to see if you were behind the car or near the entrance but you were nowhere in sight.

"Y/N?" Colby yelled out. Sam following with a shout of his own name.

"Yeah?" you ask walking from behind a stone wall that ran behind the castle into the gardens.

"Where did you run off to?" Sam asks and the caretakers also look intrigued.

"Something caught the corner of my eye and I wanted to see if anyone else was on the property" you shrug your shoulder making Sam look to the now turned on camera Colby had, as they had started to film the minute the group were aware that you were missing.

"You just left, because you saw something?" Colby asks and you nod, making Sam chuckle. They cut the cameras, giving you a small run down of the castle, which rooms you guys weren't allowed it and when you guys had to leave by.

They also further explained not having got there before that it would just be you guys in there tonight, the caretaker however stays in the barn that was technically 'on the property' but not inside the castle just for legal purposes.

"So this is the centre of the castle. Back in the day, all residents from the Dannamore family and their friends would have been around here as this was and still is a hub" the tour guide smiles as you all look around the expanse of the hall.

"Who was part of the Dannamore Family, I'm guessing we'll meet some of them tonight?" you smile asking intrigued.

"Well Drake Dannamore has always been the most present spirit we have here. He is the original resident of the castle" she starts and you all nod.

"Is he cool?" Colby asks making you turn to him in shock. How is he referring to a like 1000 year old spirit as cool.

"He's a kind spirit yes. Y/N you'll get most the activity from him, he's the protector of this house... practically the women" she smiles.

"Really? Why's that?" Sam asks.

"Well, Drake..." she starts and you guys hear a knock from the back of the room making you all look there and the guide and caretaker laugh a little.

"I think he's here with us!" she smiles looking around before continuing.

"He married Valisa Dupont a French Lady from a wealthy family. Their family gifted and built this castle as a sign of their gratitude for Drake protecting Valisa. However, Valisa did not love Drake and apparently she became very spiteful towards him. She would cheat on him with the bakers boy who worked and lived in the home. She neglected their children making Drake exhausted" she starts and you feel a sort of overwhelming sadness wash over you. Enough for you to reach up and hold you chest.

"Vasila attempted to kill Drake but ended up mistakenly poisoning his sister Darcey. He ended the relationship with her, and she was livid. He moved on and married Bianca, who mysteriously died one night after saying for years she felt like she was being watched. People working in the castle at the time reported that Vasila killed Bianca out of jealously. Drake was in anguish and after that refused to marry again. He tried to protect Bianca as much as possible thinking Vasila was terrorizing her. After that its said that Drake either pushed her or she threw herself from the east tower, falling to her death" she finishes and you all look in shock.

"So he protects females that come into the castle from Vasila, who i'm guessing remains here as a negative energy because he feels like he needs to do what he couldn't do for Bianca?" you ask and a creak or footsteps was heard from above making all your heads snap up.

"I'd take that as a yes!" Colby laughs making you laugh as well.

"So this is an active place for all the spirits?" Sam asks looking around.

"Not all, but most. Drake can be found here along with his children who are also protectors of the home. Bianca is also here who is a very friendly and kind spirit. But its not just people who have lived in the castle. There's portals here too" the caretaker answers showing the mirrors that were facing each other.

"Woah?" you say stepping closer to Colby where the mirrors are.

"So what do we need to be wary of?" Colby asks.

"Vasila, of course. She doesn't like any-one male or female. She's been known to touch and scratch and make lots of loud noises but she's only in certain areas of the house like the tower and the pantry room" she explains.

"Because of her relationship with the baker boy?" Sam asks and she nods.

"Y/N you'll need to be extra careful of the baker boy" she admits and you look off to the left.

"Why?"

"He doesn't like ... dominant women!" she exclaims looking down, making you frown with a small laugh.

"I'm a dominant woman?" you ask with a laugh.

"Just like your presence, the tattoos, biker personality and just your aura she means, your head strong which is something Madison didn't like" the medium says for the first time since being here.

"Madison?" Sam asks.

"The baker boy, that was his name Madison!" he answers.

This would make for an interesting night!

Taglist:

@richardsamboramylove55 @braveangel777 @rockwyu @jada-lockwood @itzdarling

[icallhimjoey]

Lost & Found

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader    

Summary: You take a little break, a week away to somewhere warm to relax and calm your senses. So does Joe – same flight, same hotel, same travel plans and, worst of all, same suitcase. What was meant to be a lovely trip to the sun starts off on the wrong foot when you find expensive designer outfits belonging to a man in what you thought was your suitcase.    

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, lots of swearing, we get a little spicy but nothing too bad, 18+ just in case though!    

Author’s note: we're going at a much slower pace for this one, apologies for the longer wait!    

Wordcount: 2.9K  

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Not looking him in the eye, tension left your body as you snorted at the strange compliment you got.

“Looks better on you, anyway,”

He could probably tell your heart was beating a million miles a minute, the compliment clearly a joke meant to take the edge off. Which it did, so, that worked out fine.

But then tension built back up when you both started walking in the same direction, back the same way you came to get a taxi. When it dawned on you that you were both going to be headed back to the same hotel, the possibility of sharing a taxi stared at you right in the face.

Fuck.

You immediately started looking for excuses to play for time. A toilet. A souvenir shop. A phone call to distract you enough to stop walking. Anything.

Coffee shop.

Perfect.

You stopped walking and queued up, but then, so did he. Got in line right behind you.

You turned and gave an awkward smile. He returned it and then, there was silence. You just... stood there, next to your suitcases, until it was your turn.

The longer neither of you said anything, the more excruciating it became. Every second that passed made you think the same thought more pressingly: say something, say something, say something.

But... say what, exactly?

You’d already said more to each other than was normal for two strangers, hadn’t you?

You glanced behind you again as you felt your neck was still hot, probably all red, and immediately made eye-contact with him.

“So, this isn't– this is not awkward at all,” you said, huffing a nervous laugh through your nose.

He copied it and went, “Yea,” and was about to say more, was about to instinctually reach out a hand to touch your shoulder, maybe. To touch the fabric of his own T-shirt. But you were next in line and were asked for your order, and then got handed it quite quickly, making you scurry off with it immediately because the thought of waiting for a taxi together was awful and oh my God, you could not share a taxi with him. You needed to be in one by yourself before he was even out of the building because how else were you going to call your friend and tell her everything?!

Plonking down in a taxi with your coffee had you biting your nails, or what was left of those anyway, until it actually pulled up onto the road.

You sighed a breath of relief when you left the airport in your own taxi. Safe, just you in the backseat joined by the friend that you called.

"Bitch, guess what the fuck just happened?"

The nail-biting had been for no good reason. Joe'd been just as adamant about not sharing a taxi when he too realised that you'd be giving taxi drivers the same address to go to. He had hung back with his drink until he'd seen you drive off from behind the glass of the large windows that adorned the full scope of the building. Then, he had a cigarette outside just to extend the time. The space. He'd honestly just wanted a coffee and didn't get into the queue behind you to be a creep, although, he'd mentally admitted to the mistake when he'd seen you awkwardly look at him.

Best to create some distance now to not make things any weirder than they already were.

He'd seen how deep you blushed.

Thought it was all cute, but, understood you probably didn't feel all cute.

On the way back, you told your friend what had just transpired which amused her greatly.

"So he's good looking and rich?"

"I'm afraid so."

It was honestly so unfortunate.

"And staying at the same hotel?"

"I literally died. I'm dead. I am speaking to you from the afterlife."

Dramatic, sure, but it was truly how you felt.

"Oh my God, wait, I need to write all of this down for my speech,"

"Your speech?"

"For when you two get married," your friend found all of it a lot more amusing than you did. The bitch.

"Pff, piss off, my God. It was the most embarrassing thing ever," you complained.

"Well, did you survive it?" she asked pointedly.

"Ugh, stop, keep the voice of reason to yourself, I don't need it,"

She ignored you and answered her own question. "You've survived it fine, get over yourself and actually relax, will you?"

You didn't need reminding. When your boss gave you a weird stare last week and then said that you looked like you were dying, like, actively decaying, you confessed that the stress of, well, everything was really starting to get to you.

You'd been piling responsibilities on top of more responsibilities and the whole thing had become one big unsturdy mess that had started keeping you up at night.

It had started with innocent nail biting, had progressed into waking up at weird hours of the night, unable to get back to sleep and, eventually, nightmares and weird night terrors had crept in. Kept you from getting any sleep at all.

You'd gotten used to passing out from sheer exhaustion around 4 AM, sometimes 5, and then your alarm would pull you from your slumber a mere two hours later. Two and a half if you were lucky.

You'd been sent on this trip to do some mandatory relaxing. Your boss needed you back fresh-faced and well-rested next week. Something something big client, major meetings, important presentation et cetera, et cetera.

"Did you end up getting some actual sleep last night? Hotel bed okay?"

"Yea fine actually, but that was mostly thanks to the three tequila sunrises I poured into myself last night – my nails are practically gone,"

Stress.

"Have an early lunch, get drunk, have a cheeky nap,"

"Yes ma'am,"

"Seriously though, I can't believe how fucking lucky you are, just, fucked off abroad to laze by a pool, boss's orders. Meanwhile I'm stuck here in this horrid fluorescent office lighting and, you know what, I think blue light glasses are a right scam, they don't fucking do anything at all,"

"Hey." you interrupted, "Have an early lunch. Get drunk. Have a cheeky nap."

"Yea, thanks," Sarcasm. "Feel how hard you're frowning right now? How clenched your jaw is? How high your shoulders are?"

Okay, time to hang up. You were keeping your friend from doing her job and her shoving your currently situation into your face wasn't actually helping.

Back at the hotel, you opened your suitcase with your code and only realised then that the good looking rich guy hadn't even been able to open it. You'd gone through every single item in his, knew what he underwear looked like, and he'd been stuck in his room with your locked one.

Unfair, but, in your favour, so fine.

There was a little trickle of guilt, but that was easy to ignore as you unpacked and changed into something more weather-appropriate.

When you dropped the black T-shirt off at the front desk, it took too long for you to explain what you were doing and what you wanted them to do. You kept hesitating on sharing more information, kept adding little bits, until you basically told them the full story.

"Can you hold onto this? Someone will pick it up later– it's, this is his T-shirt. I borrowed it, but he wants it back. Obviously. But I don't know– I don't know when he'll pick it up. I just had his suitcase for a little bit. I've got my own now. We– they got switched, so, this isn't mine. He said to leave it here so..."

Confused narrow eyes stared at you as they hesitantly took the black T-shirt from you. "Do you perhaps have a name, or a room number?"

"No, um... no, I don't– wait, yes, I do, or... I think I do. Do you have a guest here with the name J–"

"Hey,"

There he was. Polite smile and all.

"Oh, that's him," you pointed, glad to end whatever this dumb interaction was.

"That's mine. Thanks." Joe took his own T-shirt, giving you another smile – definitely awkward still – before heading towards the lifts.

Good.

You were going to sit out by the pool, which was the other way. You hoped that he'd be busy enough with work meetings, conference calls, and whatever else people on business trips got up to that you wouldn't have to run into him again.

Except then you did.

Because of course you did.

You'd followed your friend's advice and had gone for a nap at 4 in the afternoon. It was a struggle to actually fall asleep, and perhaps you should've gotten a small coffee at the airport instead of a large one, but you'd gotten a good hour and a half in. You'd woken up all kinds of disoriented and groggy, and had silently debated getting room service for dinner instead of going down to make your reservation at the restaurant. After going back and forth between staying in bed or getting out, you'd decided to get out for fear of not being able to get to sleep later.

You'd gotten ready, decided that a strappy dress would do, and double checked if you had your hotel room key before closing the door behind you and making your way over to the lifts.

It took ages for a lift to get to you, and then when one finally did, you pressed the button for the ground floor, but the lift slowed just as quickly as it started going.

Ninth floor.

Doors opened.

Him.

Wearing the fucking jacket you'd worn to the rooftop bar the night before.

Should've gone with room service.

"Hi," he said on the back-end of an amusing chuckle. You pursed your lips together in a small smile as a response.

Cool.

You were going to be in a lift together for half a minute. Very fun that every single surface inside of the lift was mirrored, your reflection inescapable.

And he was wearing the fucking burgundy jacket.

This was going to be your trip, wasn't it? This was what it was going to be like the whole time. Constant reminders of your stupid cringeworthy choices from that first evening and maybe you could just go drown yourself in the ocean later. Just for funsies.

The hum of the lift as it picked up speed wasn't enough to fill the silence.

The deafening silence.

"Nice jacket,"

As you counted down the floors, you though you might as well just lean into it now. Into this whole bit. Acknowledge the elephant in the room and make yourself feel lighter about it.

"Thanks. Nice dress."

"Thanks."

Just a few more floors.

"I wouldn't have been able to pull that off,"

You looked at him in the mirrored surface in front of you before you turned your head to look at him from the side. Was that... was that a double entendre?

No.

Could be though.

Was the rich good looking business man flirting?

Maybe.

The potential lay in wait.

"Mhm..." you mused, confidence growing when you saw he was trying to repress a grin. "I think you're selling yourself short, Joe," 

You revealed you knew his name. Thought you knew his name, anyway. His face dropped, just for a second. It could've been a reaction to the lift stopping with a slight jolt as it reached the lobby.

"I feel like you've got the legs to make this work." you joked, but didn't get a laugh in response. Just a tightlipped sort of barely there little smile. The polite kind.

Doors opened and you left whatever that moment was behind as you stepped out.

Food.

It took Joe a second to gather himself, to silently scold himself for needing to get used to this already. Be appreciative of it whilst he was at it. People knowing him ultimately was a good thing, something he'd worked so hard for and had wanted for so long. He couldn't let the bitter aftertaste it left him with affect him so much.

He was fine.

So, you knew who he was? Big deal. Lots of people knew who he was.

He was fine.

Except, he wasn't fine.

He wasn't fine as he sat through his dinner at his table for one, tucked away in one of the corners of the restaurant with perfect view of you.

Perfect view of you sinking teeth into your starter, main and dessert.

Perfect view of fingers wrapping around glassware of every drink you had.

Of the flirting the waiter seemed to entertain you with, getting warm smiles and sometimes cute giggles in return.

Of how you filled the quiet with your phone that was laid down face up next to your plate, just using a middle finger to swipe and tap at the screen.

Of how you declined a coffee and told the waiter you were going to go upstairs for a drink, smiling as you pointed a small finger up.

Of how your body swayed as you walked away in a dress that looked great, but you know what looked better?

You know when you'd looked better to him?

Joe wasn't allowing himself to think it.

He thought it, but didn't let his inner monologue sound the words out.

Joe had watched you all throughout dinner and then, after finishing his own meal, had followed you upstairs and then watched you as you sat at the bar with a cocktail.

He watched as you buried yourself into your phone even more.

Watched as you ordered another drink with a charming smile that told him you were probably not going to have to pay for any of the drinks you were getting.

Watched as your leg started bouncing.

Watched as you used a hand to rub at your arm, picking up then that the breeze he felt was getting colder.

Watched as your shoulders hunched up more, full attention with your phone still.

What were you even doing on that phone? Work? In a place like this?

Well, sort of.

You were working through e-mails. Slowly. Very slowly. You'd get distracted by Instagram and group chats. Tidied your gallery a little. Added whatever you wanted to the notes app: little to do lists, silly thoughts, creative ideas, things you couldn't forget to do before you'd go back home – like, "get a manicure" and then right below that, "mani pedi if possible".

You felt how the alcohol started warming your blood a little, and it had been enough to keep you warm until suddenly, it wasn't anymore. Temperatures dropped fast at night, and when you'd ordered your third cocktail, you contemplated maybe also getting a warm drink.

You shivered and checked the time.

You could also not order a fourth drink and maybe ask if you could take this one back to your room. Have a hot bath and drink it there.

Before deciding on anything, you typed, "get a jacket" in your notes app, and then added "or get the one long sleeved thing you wore cleaned". It was stupid how making lists like this made you feel productive. Calmed your nerves almost instantly. You looked at your finger nails and realised you hadn't bitten at any of them since that morning.

"Hi, can I just ask– is it okay for me to take this back to my room?"

As an answer, the bartender reached and held up a plastic cup before looking at you questioningly. Did you want whatever was in front of you poured into a to-go cup?

Before you could answer, you jolted a little at a sudden touch to your body from behind.

Fabric.

A jacket got draped over your shoulders.

Burgundy.

You took a shaky breath of cold air, ribs tightening around your lungs.

You recognised the scent before you did anything else which made you bite your lips into your mouth in an attempt to ignore that thought completely.

You turned to look.

Nobody.

Other side.

Joe.

Joe smiled, already walking away from you, back towards the lifts. All polite and warm and charming. Rich business man smile. Ugh.

Before he got out of earshot, you managed to ask, "Do I leave this at the front desk again?"

"Sure," Joe shrugged one shoulder, triggering the glass sliding doors in front of him. "Or drop it off at room 907, either one's fine."

Was there any point in trying to hide your smile?

"907. Got it. Thank you."

With a last glance that lasted just a fraction of a second too long, Joe headed inside and you turned back to the bartender who was still waiting for an answer.

"Um," you frowned, shook your head and closed your eyes a second to think.

"Did you want your drink to go, ma'am?" 

"No, thank you." you moved to slide your arms into the sleeves of Joe's jacket.

"I'll have it here."

---

The Taglisted

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taglist currently full, sorry

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Is this the end? (Part II)

Katya is new at SHIELD. When she messes up during her probation, she thinks Fury will send her away. To ease the pain, she distances herself from Nat.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 2.9k • Warnings: angst, talk of self-harm and unaliving (not detailed, not graphic, not the acts themselves) • A/N: So, eh, turns out I can't fit everything in this part either. So there will be a part 3. Also, remember they're not yet girlfriends here! They are still unfamiliar with each other and learning to let down walls :) Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

Katya

Katya had been scared all week. From the moment she woke up—if she even slept—to the moment she went to sleep. She could hardly eat, could hardly focus. A figurative sword dangled over her head every waking minute. The anticipation of a message from Fury was killing her.

With every agent that walked up to her, every text or call she got on her phone, Katya thought that that was it, that her time at SHIELD had come to an end. But every day, for a week, nothing happened. 

She was sure Fury tortured her on purpose. Left her to rot in her guilt and shame for a while. Maybe he wanted to see what she'd do. 

It was slowly killing her, though. Every day, the physical symptoms of her anxiety got worse. What started with a lack of appetite turned into nausea. What started as a rapid heartbeat turned into panic attacks. Her hands shook, she had a tight chest, and she was emotionally totally gone.

Her job was literally to pretend to be other people, though, so Katya acted her butt off. Nobody saw that she wasn't okay. Nobody paid close enough attention. She was the scary newcomer, the traitor, the risk factor. People at SHIELD had not been eager to get to know her.

The only other person besides Natasha—who Katya kept far away—who cared about her enough to notice anything, was Clint; Natasha's kind, funny, welcoming best friend. She tried avoiding him too, but the building was only so big, and there were only so many places she had access to.

Her luck ran out near the end of the week. Clint walked into the cafeteria one morning when she was getting her regular batch of oatmeal, his hair sticking out on all sides. Her plan to quickly get breakfast and eat it in her room—as she'd done everyday this week—was ruined when he spotted her across the hall. 

If the people around her had moved aside faster, Katya could have escaped. But Clint caught her by her bicep as she went to pass him.

"Hold up."

A wave of panic flooded her body. He had her trapped. Clint, the second to last person she wanted to talk to. With a pounding heart, she stared his hand down until he let her arm go, an apologetic look on his face. The ghost of his handprint itched on her skin. She wanted to burn her arm off.

"Look, I don't know what's going on—"

"Then don't get involved," Katya hissed under her breath, feeling the eyes of other nosy breakfast-eaters on their little scene. The last thing she wanted was for him to get in the middle of this and risk his friendship with Natasha, but Clint continued without hesitation.

"But I know my best friend has been sad all week."

It was hard not to react. His words stung badly enough for Katya's carefully crafted composure to falter. She knew her actions hurt Natasha, but hearing it spoken out loud made it more real. Clint took advantage of her silence.

"She can't help you if you don't talk to her."

"It's best if she stays away," Katya said sharply.

Clint nodded slowly, skeptically crossing his arms over his chest. "Best for you, or for her?"

Katya dug her nails into her palm, red flashing before her eyes. "I don't care about myself," she hissed defensively, angry at him for suggesting she would choose her own wellbeing over Natasha's. "Fury can kill me, for all I care. But I don't want her hurt too."

Clint answered her anger with calmness, his wise blue eyes deeply staring into hers. He'd already done all this math in his head, figured out her patterns. They were the same as a certain redhead's. "You can ignore her and push her away all you want. But nothing you say or do can make her care less about you," his voice was almost fatherly. "What you're doing is only hurting her more."

The voice of reason didn't work for someone who felt too much to think rationally. Deep, deep down, Katya knew he was right. Relationships, friendships—they were new to her, but she'd seen enough movies and read enough books to know that pushing people away was always a bad idea.

But Katya felt that need to protect Natasha too strongly. It was her responsibility to make her happy. And in order to make the pain less in the long term, Katya had to cause a little bit of it now. 

Without another word, she slipped past Clint. He let her go this time, his gaze—and the ones of fifty other people—on her back as she pushed through the doors. They would be talking about this. The whole building would know what confrontation happened in the cafeteria this morning, even if they didn't catch a single word.

The rumors were difficult to deal with. SHIELD was worse than a high school filled with gossiping teenage girls. Rumors spread about Katya's mission. And like all stories did, they went from wild, to crazy, to absolutely insane. People heard what they wanted to hear, and added their own twist to it.

Katya apparently set up the whole thing to pass information back to Hydra. She brought files with her on the mission and got caught on purpose to hand them over. She never stopped spying for Hydra. Et cetera, et cetera.

Conversations stopped when she walked past. Judgy eyes followed her everywhere. Agents walked away when she sat down somewhere or walked into a room. 

If she had any sort of protection, she wouldn't have tolerated it. If she was sure she could stay, she would have confronted the gossip-spreaders, the judgy-eyed. If she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she would have kneed some men in the balls. Funnily enough, they were too scared of her to actually say something to her face. The most she'd gotten was dirty looks. 

Katya hated to admit that it affected her, that it stung. Especially now that she pushed Natasha and Clint away, she felt lonelier than ever. And with the looming likeliness that she would return to a life on the run—alone—very soon, her days darkened.

There were nights where she grew so depressed with the idea of going back that she laid by the toilet bowl, fighting with the food rising up her throat. Without missions and assignments, there was too much time to think. And with too much time to think, she went on a downward spiral towards insanity. 

Katya convinced herself that there was only one real option: staying at SHIELD. She wasn't going back to the shadow parts of the world, unprotected, hunted, having to use her worst skills to get money and to stay alive. She wasn't. She couldn't. To feel less like a human being, the self-hatred, she wouldn't survive it, knowing now what she lost.

If Fury sent her away, she would choose death. 

Natasha

Natasha ran around SHIELD HQ in a frenzy, a strange feeling in her stomach that she had to hurry up, that she was running out of time. 

She couldn't find Katya anywhere. 

The woman only had access to a few parts of the building, and yet everywhere Natasha looked turned up empty. She wasn't in her room, or in the cafeteria, or the gym. Natasha even checked the roof and garage. Nothing.

When Katya didn't show up to mandatory training this morning, she initially wasn't too worried. She would have been more surprised if she did show up, considering this whole avoidance thing this week. But when Natasha went to find her afterwards to reprimand her for her absence, the blonde was nowhere to be found.

Did she miss anything? Surely, Fury wouldn't let Katya go without telling her about it. Had Katya decided not to wait on a verdict and did she leave on her own accord? 

The more Natasha thought about it, and the more places turned up empty, the more she was convinced Katya left. Katya left. Katya left her.

Her walk sped up to a speed walk, then a jog, then to a full sprint as she took the stairs—faster than the elevator—three at a time. Every agent she passed, she stopped and asked the same question: "Have you seen Petrova?" 

After the initial shock passed, the answers were all the same: ''No.''

They must have thought she'd gone crazy, running around the halls like a weeping widow. But fear squeezed Natasha's heart too powerfully to worry about her reputation. She needed to find Katya, and she needed to find her fast. Maybe she could catch up to her and bring her back.

''Have you seen Kat?''

Clint jumped a foot into the air when the door of his office flew open and banged against the adjacent wall. With a building full of sneaking spies, it had never seen a force like that. Grasping at his heart, he turned around to tell his friend off. But the teasing died in his throat when he saw the look on her face.

"No." 

Without so much as a nod, Natasha ran off again. 

"Nat. Nat!" Clint called after her, but she was long gone, speeding through the corridors faster than her short legs could handle.

She was on her way to Fury's office when she passed the kitchen, the door open to let the smell of food waft into the hallway. It was Taco Tuesday, a cliché. Natasha didn't even like tacos all that much. Sometimes, she'd bribe the cooking lady to make her something else. But something in the corner of her eye forced her to a screeching halt.

It shimmered there, on the counter. Silver and sharp. One of Katya's favorite things.

Natasha felt like an absolute idiot. There were only two places Katya liked to go if she was distressed. One; the roof. Two; the shooting range. Or, more specifically, the knife throwing range. 

Guess which place she didn't check.

As she sprinted down thirteen flights of stairs, Natasha's mind was pulled back into memories from a different lifetime, when things were simpler. Two orphan girls, fifteen years old, madly in love in a place that didn't teach them what love was. 

She felt herself standing next to Katya in that hellhole as she practiced her throwing. The blonde could completely lose herself in the art of it. It was the most fascinating thing to watch. Her obsession with knives was a strange one, but everyone needed a hobby.

After she crashed through the doors of the shooting range, Natasha came to an abrupt halt. 

Silence settled over her like a thick layer of snow. Down here, in the cellar, below the water of the river, there were no noises from outside. No traffic, no office buzz, and few other people. Padded walls minimized the sounds from inside the room. It was peaceful, one of her favorite places to be. 

Natasha's gaze easily settled on the only person in the room. She couldn't describe the relief she felt in words when she saw the familiar features. Katya hadn't left. She was right there, alive and looking beautiful. 

In her hand, she had a knife, one of those meant for throwing. It was clear Natasha had caught her off guard. Katya stood frozen, like a little kid caught stealing from the candy jar, panic flickering behind her blue eyes. 

The knife glistened in the bright lights, close to Katya's face like she had been staring at it. She wasn't even close to the start of the throwing range. It felt like an odd place to stand.

A wave of nausea hit Natasha, the relief replaced by sheer agony. Her eyes flickered to the knife, then to the shame in Katya's eyes, and back to the knife. They both knew she figured it out. Her heart sank to the floor.

"Please, Kat."

Her fragile voice thawed Katya's frozen body. "Don't start," she warned, scowling as she turned away.

Natasha felt weak, helpless. If she'd burst into the room five minutes later, would that knife have pierced skin? She thought Katya was doing better. "You can't leave me again."

"I'm trying!'' Upset, Katya tossed the knife on a nearby table. ''You think I want these voices in my head? You think I want this?"

Natasha took a step closer. "Whatever they're saying, it's not true. Don't listen to the lies."

"But they're not lies, are they?!'' Katya yelled. She moved around in her spot restlessly, as if she wasn't sure what to do with her feelings. ''We're murderers, Nat! Liars, traitors, spies. Soulless beings."

With every word, Natasha's heart shattered further. "We were just kids! We didn't choose this!"

"But we didn't end it either."

"We did!'' Natasha took a breath to compose herself, her hands shaking as she ran them over her face. She wasn't good at this. At emotional conversations. Let alone ones with such a heavy topic. ''We did. We're here. We're here to make up for it. To do good."

A sarcastic snort echoed in the room. "''Good''.'' Katya shook her head, her jaw clenched. ''The only solution to a cancer is to kill it. You don't feed it and love it in the hope that it goes away."

"Killing yourself is not a solution, it's a way out!'' Desperation and panic dripped from Natasha's voice. ''You have to give it time. It takes time to heal."

"I can't be fixed by a couple of good hugs and tea, Natalia! There's no fixing the people we are!"

"Then why did you stay?! Why did you stay if you didn't believe you could be better?!"

"I stayed for you!'' Natasha blinked, completely taken aback. ''You're the reason I'm still here! Not just here here, but on this godforsaken bloody planet! You're the only reason I do things. I don't want to hurt you. But if I permanently remove myself, I hurt you, and if I stay, I hurt you too. There's no winner."

Not many things could silence Natasha Romanoff, but hearing this made the words die in her throat. To be someone's entire reason for living was a big burden, one she didn't know she carried. But it brought her hope too. She lifted her chin.

"I'll give you your answer,'' she said decisively, taking a determined step closer. They were only three feet apart now, her finger pointing at Katya's chest. ''You stay. You fucking stay with me, right here, at SHIELD. Because leaving me again is not an option. Do you hear me, Kat? You are going to stay right at my side, and I'll show you—no, convince you, that there's more than the darkness." Her finger trembled with adrenaline. "Leaving me is not an option."

The speech made Katya waver, but it didn't convince her. "That's not up to me. Fury is going to send me away. As he should. He can never trust me. He doesn't trust you. I don't even trust myself!'' She took a breath, calmly looking into Natasha's eyes. ''There's demons, Nat. And even I'm afraid of what they can do."

On a whim, Natasha grabbed one of her hands. Katya was as surprised by the gesture as she was herself. "I'm not. Afraid. I know you—"

"You don't."

"I do!'' Natasha said sternly. She was so tired of the negative self-talk, of the buts. ''I know your soul. How it's naturally gentle, and generous, and kind. I know there's a little girl in there who hates the violence. I know she feels unsafe, and scared, and alone." She paused, starting to feel her throat tighten. "I know because that girl is in me, too. I've started to feel her more and more since I found you. I've started to feel like myself again, a person, a soul. And I know, if you allow me, if you stay, I can help you feel that too."

It was so clear that Katya was struggling with herself in every way and form. Her thoughts and feelings were contradicting. Her heart wanted one thing, her head another. To stay or not to stay? Natasha saw the struggle from the outside, the gears turning in her head, the fight she silently fought.

Katya hung her head, looking at their intertwined hands. She looked small and vulnerable. There was no fight left in her. "If I stay, I'll hurt you. I can't fight them. I'll say or do something…'' Her head shook, refusing to think about worst-case scenarios. ''It's safer and it's best if I go."

Natasha felt the energy flow out of her body until it was nothing but an empty shell. The only thing she could do was talk, and if that wasn't enough to convince Katya to stay, then what else was there but to accept defeat? 

She let go of Katya's hand, taking a small step backwards. "If you have to go, I won't stop you. I have already said everything I can think of."

Katya looked up with a furrow in her brows, surprised by this turn of events. "You'd let me go?"

Natasha swallowed thickly, feeling the last pieces of her heart fall apart. "I can live, knowing you're out there somewhere,'' she said softly, tears burning behind her eyes. ''But I can't live knowing you're dead. I've done that before. Ten years. They were the darkest years of my life."

The words lingered in the silence, carrying a hidden meaning. Katya's eyes narrowed with a heartbreaking suspicion when Natasha couldn't meet them with her own. "Why did you stay?"

"Same reason you're still alive.'' Natasha exhaled with a trembling breath. ''Hope."

[junedenim]

explode behind my eyes

the consequence of public bathrooms

warnings: smut, age gap, facefucking & stuff

word count: 2.5k

It was just a run-in. Two acquaintances at a bar at the same time. At least, that's what you tell yourself. The run-in is planned without actually being planned. The sort of thing where he—Alex, you had learned—tells you as he left your apartment building. If you happen to be there at this time, I might be there.

You had been to the bar before. Might have taken home someone from the bar. It seemed like the natural place to do it. The bar was the fancy kind. The kind where you and your friends batted your eyelashes at a Wall Street guy until they bought you a drink. The atmosphere is gaudy, but you like how the air tastes of leather. It was a taste you couldn't explain but it made sense.

He is there when you arrive, dressed in similar attire as the night before, but this time with his suit jacket on and a black button-down with white stripes. He would blend in with most of the crowd if it wasn't for that buzzed head and dark sunglasses. There was some image to be maintained. A shield of sorts.

You had thought about bringing a friend but now you're glad you didn't. It feels right to assume that you'd fuck tonight. A guy doesn't invite a girl to a bar to dance. Not looking like that anyway. And a girl doesn't come dressed as you do (a mini-skirt that your mother would scream if she saw you in and a perfectly respectable button-down of your own; you look like you're going for a job interview at 1-800-SLEAZY) and not expect a lay.

He already has a drink. Scotch or whiskey or something, you couldn't tell the difference. He leans his arms on the bar and he looks like a pimp. His hand around the glass catches your attention. You aren't someone to be swept away by hands. You aren't a believer in the hand to penis size correlation but the way it wrapped around the low glass gave you a feeling. A good feeling. 

His fingers sweep up the side of it like it swept up the side of you. You are landing yourself in trouble staring too long but he had the eyes of nearly every girl in the bar and you were—you hoped—the only one who had the right of way to approach him.

You step forward and shim through the crowd. There is a space next to him open. A space for you, no doubt. You slide in next to it and place your arm on the bar, leaning your side into it. His head turns and you wish to peer into those brown eyes like the night before. His shades prevented you. He grins so you smirk and bite your lip. "I've arrived," you announce in a hushed tone.

"I see that." His lips lower and he is teasing you with how he is hiding from you.

You look him up and down like you are taking him in for the first time. "Is that so?" You reach up and pluck the sunglasses from his face. His eyes blaze back at you. They are suggestive and he isn't hiding anything from the way he is looking. You slide them onto your face.

"Stealing property from me?" His head is low, at your level. You feel his breath on you as he speaks and it only seems natural to think you might kiss at any moment. It was thrilling. You had forgotten the teasing that can come with this kind of thing. Most men were predictable. Alex was a riddle that played games. Maybe it was an age thing. 

You pout your lips. They're plump and glossy, inciting for a kiss, the kind you would want to dive in for. "You gonna do something about it?"

Right when one would think we would make a move—kiss you, fuck you, take his glasses back—he turns toward the bartender and orders a refill, "Another Old Fashioned please." You roll your eyes and giggle. He is playing a game and he's good. "What would you like? A lemonade? Fruit punch?"

"Ha ha," you say dryly. You turn to the bartender, "Gin & tonic." You wanted a strawberry daiquiri but he'd probably make fun of you for it and you're trying to prove a point. You turn to Alex and say, "On his tab, of course."

"Oh, of course," he sarcastically says. He's cute like a boy playing schoolyard games. "Are you even old enough to drink?"

You roll your eyes, but can't help but smile wider. "Are you implying you would fuck an underaged girl?"

"I never said anything about fucking you." He said this as he was inches from your face. His lips begged for a kiss.

"Just supplying me with alcohol?" Your intentions were clear, his intentions were clear. It was only a matter of time.

"You ordered the alcohol. I was happy to order you a pink lemonade." His hand skims your arm and you thought he might just—

The bartender placed your two drinks down and you both lifted and sipped them quickly. 

Alex placed his empty glass back on the bar, a noise ringing out from the slam. "Bathroom?"

"Yeah."

He was fast, running off before you even had a chance to place your glass down. You rushed after him like a mouse scurrying through a house. He reaches back with a hand and a grin. He pulls you through the crowd to the back, slipping into the bathroom. 

He pushes you through first then locks the door. The bathroom is sleek and looks freshly clean. You wonder if they send a custodian in here between uses. There's enough counterspace to fuck on. You see the only imperfection in the room: stray sands from a line of white dust.

Your eyes are still on the counter when he finally reaches out and smothers you with his lips. He pushes you up against the counter. You wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his touch as you push hard against one another.

Alex pulls at the bottom of your shirt, tugging for you to take the shirt off. You part, crossing your arms over to the ends, and stripping the shirt off. "You want to see my tits?"

His eyes could stare holes through your bra with how intensely he's looking down on them. "Fuck yeah. Thought about seeing them since last night. You know, since you wouldn't let me into your apartment." He reached behind you and fiddled with the hook. You could tell his eyes were looking in the mirror behind you to help him out.

"That's because of my roommate—"

He interrupts, meeting your eyes again, "Like your roommate overhearing would have been less public than having me finger you in the stairwell?"

"Well..." You bite your fingernail, unable to counter.

"Uh-huh." He smirked and took his sunglasses off your face finally making eye contact again. 

His mouth crashes down onto yours once more. You wrap your legs around him as he lifts you up by your hips onto the counter, his hands hot against your skin. He kisses down, mouthing at your neck, then your breasts. 

A rush of adrenaline courses through your veins. His hands shove your skirt up your thighs and his mouth is on yours again. He reaches down and pinches your left nipple and you moan into his mouth—a noise that he eagerly mirrors. From zero to sixty in sixty seconds or less.

He puts the other hand between your legs and rubs you through the lace that separates you, stroking up and down slowly. You throw your head back against the mirror, tilting your face to the ceiling, drowning in the sensation.

You snap back into action and lift your head. "I'm not fucking you in this bathroom."

He was playful and he smirked. "Then, what are we doing in this bathroom?" His fingers played deeper with the lace, moving it aside, exposing your core.

You shove your hands down between you two and cover yourself. He removes his hand and steps away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." It seems like a mood killer. You think he thinks his teasing had gone too far and based on the remorseful look on his face, he fears he misinterpreted your words for teasing remarks.

The space he left between you made it easy for you to slide off the counter and onto your knees. "No, no. I just want to return the favor."

His worry dissolved and morphed into a smirk. "Oh, yeah."

You looked up at him; wide-eyed, wide smile, awaiting to pull open his pants. You reached up and hung your hands off his belt. "Uh-huh," you mocked. You taunt him with the slow nature for which you undo his belt. The metal clangs and he reaches down to slide his tongue between your lips. You suck on it like a lollipop and something about the whole ordeal—whether your lips around the knuckle or the bedroom-gaze eyes you send up at him—pulls a moan out of him. 

You kiss the edge of it and yank his zipper down. You tug on his waistband an inch to free his cock. It stares you in the eye. Long. Girthy. Erected. You kiss the tip as you had done with his thumb. You aim to be seductive as you kiss slowly on his length down to his sack. His breathing is heavy but nothing dismisses from his mouth. It is unpleasant. You want him to beg after he made you beg. You sit back on your feet. "Now?"

"Now?" He questions back. His eyes are wide and his bewildered by the wishy-washy sense of your behavior.

You shrug. "What shall I do now?" 

He chuckles at the innocence you attempt to showcase as if less than 24 hours ago he wasn't fingering you outside your apartment door. As if you aren't on your knees right now. He accepts the bait and reaches out to thread his fingers through the back of your hair. "Now you blow me or I could fuck your tits. Whichever you prefer."

You shake your head insistently. "You will not be fucking my tits. I don't need that all over me."

He slaps your left boob. Not violently, just playfully. He pulls on your nipple, seeming to get filled with pleasure playing with your breasts and watching you squirm. "But they're such beautiful tits."

You stay stern and shake your head. "But that wouldn't be fair to my mouth."

"Oh," he exclaims like it is a big shock. "You want me to fuck your mouth?"

You shrug. "Or I could leave?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No. Not that." He pushes on the back of your head, closer, closer until your mouth wraps around him. He lightens his touch but guides you further down his length. He's delicate and while you're charmed by that—the way this man looks rough and tuggered but he is soft and serene—you'd like for him to take you away. There's no fear in it, maybe because you're trusting of him, but you want him. Deeply.

You pop off him and grab his length, holding the wetness in your hand. "If you want to fuck my mouth then fuck it."

He almost seems shocked by the comment but nothing you say is much of a shock anymore. He compiles, of course. Your lips wrap around him again and he pushes on you, forcing you down on him. Then, he starts thrusting into you. It's hard but not pounding. He touches the back of your throat and the way you almost gag turns you on more than it should. He's moaning roughly. The kind you'll think about when you're alone at night and in need of relief. You crave it, chasing it completely. It's why you allow for your spit to dribble down your cheek.

His hand pulls on her hair, yanking you off of him. He looks ardently down at you—drooled and with fervor. "Do you know how fucking hot you are?" You giggle at his enthusiastic delivery. "Seriously?"

You rub your hand up and down him, which makes him groan lowly. "Your erection gave me that idea." He smirks and pushes you down onto him. It's fast and unforgiving and you love it. He's moaning, which is making you moan. It's copious and charged with desperation on both sides.

"You're so fucking good," he mutters. He has a hold on you and won't let go.

He's close, his hips are erratic and his hands are tightening. Then, there's a knock on the door.

"Aw, fuck," he groans.

You pull away from him and yell, "Someone's in here!" You return your mouth to around him, sucking, wanting him to finish in your mouth.

It is unexpected for someone to yell back, "Yeah, you've been in there for 10 minutes!"

You take yourself off him again to respond. Evidently, you pull back at the wrong time as Alex grunts under his breath and cums on your tits. You try not to have a reaction, but your jaw slacks open in disgust. Alex murmurs a "Shit" and whoever is at the door knocks loudly again.

"Fuck off!" You yell back. You're not sure if it's for the man at the door or the spunk on your chest.

Alex tries to calm himself. His breathing is still heavy and he is leaning on the sink behind you. "I'm sorry."

You sigh. "It's fine. If you could just—" But he's already one step ahead of you, grabbing a paper towel and cleaning his jizz off of you. You smile softly at him. You whisper to him, "Thank you." You notice how delicate he is with you as he carefully rubs your chest.

He helps you stand up and you can't help but be wooed by it in some way. The contrasting ways he operates; shoving his cock down your throat one minute then helping you up with the tug of his hand the next. 

Alex tucks himself back into his pants as you fix your skirt. Your eyes wander around the room until he says, "Looking for this." Your bra dangling from his hand.

You smile as a thank you and he tosses the bra your way. You hook it on and then pull your shirt back on. You both wash your hands, stealing stares and smirking at one another in silence. It's an appealing method for getting both of you fired up again.

When you walk out of the room, he holds his hand on the small of your back, and you can't help but wish he would be tempted to go lower and squeeze your ass. The man outside the bathroom can't comment on two people leaving the one-person bathroom since he enters with a group behind him, all likely heading to do a line. 

From behind you, Alex whispers right next to your ear, "Why are we always getting interrupted?"

You sigh out of disgruntleness. Your core is still hot and heavy. "Maybe because we're always in public or it's your way of telling me you wouldn't last long in bed."

He chuckles lowly into your ear. "We've never done it. How would you know?"

"Well, why don't you take me back to your place?"

He chuckles again. "Yeah, soon. Promise."

*

a/n: i'm just going to have bald alex fuck in public spaces for the next like 50 fics because i have too many ideas. he is never fucking in a bed if i can help it.

[just4koo]

best friends..? ❀ first kiss

→ character pairing : best friend!Jungkook x fem!reader → drabble summary : in which you two decide to share your first kiss together, because best friends do everything together... right..? → word count : 2.7k → warnings : foul language, slight toxicity/jealousy (maybe), conflicting feelings, unedited → genre(s) : fluff, crack, slight angst → note : i made this a series due to requests :) since the chapters aren't connected you can read this without having read the first installment but it's recommended you read "new perfume" first for background info!!

SERIES MASTERLIST

one thing that nobody knew about you and jungkook was that you shared your first kiss together. why? because it would only worsen the rumors about you two that were already bad enough. everyone always shipped you two, and if this kiss was something that ever got out, things would get much worse.

it seemed simple. you were stupid teenagers, two sixteen year olds. but it also wasn't that simple.

"jungkook, come on!" you impatiently whisper-shouted, grabbing the hand of your best friend to forcefully pull him out of your bedroom. your victim was still half asleep, subject to you shaking him awake just moments earlier.

jungkook was a bit (very) grumbly since you had woken him up from his slumber. who wouldn't be angry when they got woken up during the middle of the night, especially since he had just been so comfy using you as his pillow? but of course he had no choice, there was no way he could just roll back over and go to sleep when he saw the excited look on your face.

one of your favorite things during the winter was snow. it was so beautiful and you could just sit for hours watching it. lucky for you, in the apartment building the two of you lived in, there was an accessible roof. ever since you had discovered it one day when the two of you were playing in the stairwell it sort of became your spot. the two of you would sneak up there countless times without the knowledge of your parents.

tonight there had been a forecast on the weather channel that it was supposed to snow tonight. the first snow of the winter. even though the weather lady didn't specify what time it would start, you had already planned to stay up for it. you had witnessed the first snow of every year since you were 10 and that wasn't a streak you wanted to break.

jungkook had offered to stay up with you but as expected he'd succumbed to sleep 5 minutes into the movie you two chose. the way he was cuddling you made it very tempting to just doze off with him, but you didn't. you needed to stay up. so after hours of finding stupid movies to watch on your TV, it finally started snowing just a quarter past 04:00.

you had immediately shook jungkook in a not-so-gentle way, almost shoving him off of you so you could rush to put your sweatpants and winter jacket on. after taking a few moments to remember where the fuck he was, jungkook was following in your steps. he was pretty sure he put his sweatpants on backwards, but he had no time to worry about it when you started tugging him down the hallway.

"slow down, ______. you're going to wake your parents before we can make it out of the apartment." jungkook spoke in a quiet tone, getting a proper grasp of your hand so he could tug you backwards and slow you down a bit. you flashed him what seemed like an annoyed glance in the almost pitch black room but ended up slowing down.

once you got to the front door he went ahead and slipped into his boots, reaching for yours before you had a chance to do it yourself. he helped you into the shoes and tied them for you to make sure you didn't leave them untied in your haste and trip over your own feet. the whole time he was doing this you watched him, fighting the adoring smile that was trying to surface on your lips.

he made sure you were properly bundled up, putting earmuffs and gloves on your hands since he knew you'd want to stay outside for a while to watch the snow fall. you were someone who always forgot to take care of yourself, so jungkook was the one who did it for you. ever since he had gotten out of his aggressive adolescence phase around the age 14, he seemed to fall into a sort of caretaker role. it wasn't his fault that you were so clumsy all the time, or you would forget meals since you were too busy watching your stupid adorable cat compilation videos.

after the two of you had on all of your winter attire, he finally opened up the door as quietly as possible so you two could sneak out. the moment he shut the front door to your apartment, you were already grabbing his hand and running again, this time straight towards the stairwell. he let out a slight yelp of surprise when he felt his arm being tugged roughly. you always got so eager when you were excited about things.

"hurry up, we need to get outside before it stops!" you exclaimed as you launched up the stairs, taking it two at a time. just as he expected, that energy didn't last very long. your apartment level was pretty low compared to how many floors the apartment building had, and climbing 9 flights of stairs was extremely exhausting. by the time you were at the top you were leaning on top of jungkook and heaving breaths.

"what happened to hurrying up, huh?" jungkook questioned with a twinge of playfulness in your tone, smirking when he saw the way you glared at him. your cheeks were flushed and hair awry, lips pulled into a small frown. he knew what would cheer you up so he placed his hand on your back, opening the door that led to the rooftop. you two were instantly greeted by the falling snow. it was a pretty heavy snowstorm, already a few inches on the floor.

just as expected, you immediately brightened up once you saw the view outside. no matter how many times you'd seen it snow, it never got any less beautiful. you walked out onto the rooftop and looked up at the sky, admiring the sight of the snow falling. this was one of your favorite parts of living in the north, you were able to watch the snow practically every week.

the two of you walked to the little spot you both had constructed years ago, a makeshift canopy tent with a disney princess comforter on the floor that you two had stolen from your room and then spent an hour trying to convince your parents that the dog ate it. (they didn't believe that, obviously) it was definitely not a very pretty sight, but it worked for the two of you, nobody else ever visited the roof. the owners of the building probably had no idea that the door was actually unlocked.

the two of you sat down under the canopy to be able to see the snow without it falling on the both of you. as the two of you situated next to each other, you ended up with your head rested against his shoulder while he held his arm around you, his gloved hand rubbing your bicep. it felt so peaceful in this moment that he felt like he could fall asleep sitting upright, so he decided to just start talking.

the two of you never ran out of things to talk about. even though you had practically talked about everything since the two of you grew up together, you still could just converse for hours. because you two never seemed to get tired of each other. if anything, being together was energizing. you could never get tired of his melodic voice and laugh just like he would never be annoyed by the cute rants you always went on.

"i don't know, i just feel like if my girlfriend had a guy who was a best friend i would get jealous." jungkook said with a small shrug. your random conversations always got the two of you to some strange places, and tonight it had seemed the conversation had deviated to relationships. you were never really sure how your conversations evolved into the ones they did, but it was just where boredom got you.

"do you know how hypocritical you sound? you're saying that when you have a best friend who's the opposite gender." you replied with an incredulous look. jungkook just shrugged at that, although he didn't seem to take back what he said.

"i guess so. that's probably the reason i haven't had a relationship yet." he spoke quietly and you had to pretend that you didn't feel your heart break a little when you immediately registered the slight sadness in his voice.

it was hard to be a teenager and have every single girl curve you just because he had a girl best friend. he hadn't had a single romantic interaction because practically everyone in town knew about your friendship and always assumed it was something more than that. the only time he had even held hands with a girl was in the second grade. other than that, every other girl just avoided interacting with him.

he knew it was the same with you too, knew that you hadn't been asked out to a school dance or had one of those cringe middle school relationships that all of your other girl friends liked to joke around about. while every single one of your friends had a guy to gossip about, you always just sat there and listened. there were a few instances where your friends told you that a certain guy said you were cute but he wasn't going to ask you out because they didn't want to get their ass beaten by jungkook.

you honestly didn't blame them too much, since jungkook was pretty intimidating. despite that though, he wouldn't beat someone up just for asking you out. no, he would only beat them up if they ever dared to treat you wrong. maybe that was why any other boy was too intimidating to approach you. because nobody would ever be able to treat you up to jungkook's standard aside from himself. he hadn't trusted anyone else with you.

that didn't change the fact that you both felt bad for each other though. you were both missing out on a fundamental part of life. having your first significant other, first love, first kiss. the two of you were yet to experience any of that, and part of you wondered if you would ever possibly find someone who could accept the friendship you shared with jungkook. based on your luck for the past 16 years, you would guess that the answer was a no.

"i mean, i haven't either. not even my first kiss." you shrugged a bit. jungkook already knew this of course, since he would've been the first person you'd tell if it happened. he knew you were just saying this to make him feel better and he appreciated it. the two of you may never get to experience some of these things but at least you had each other's friendship.

"it sucks that we're both missing out on these things that practically everyone else has experienced. waiting for the right person is taking too long." you added on after a few moments. jungkook couldn't deny the way a small amount of jealousy flared up in his body at the thought of you finding someone to share your first kiss with. someone that wasn't him. and it seemed like he was too impulsive to keep that thought to himself.

"what better person to share your first kiss with than your best friend?" jungkook almost blurted out the sentence before he lost the sudden confidence. he had not only broken the silence between you two, but he felt as if he also broke the comfortable atmosphere. without looking down at you he could feel the way your body tensed through your thick layers of clothing.

"i mean- i'm just saying because like... we can't even find people who are comfortable with our friendship and nobody really wants to-" his jumbled up sentence was abruptly interrupted when he felt one of your mittens touch his cheek. it was if his whole body recoiled and his eyes darted down towards your face. your face was scarily calm and you were just staring at him. he was completely ready to play off what he said as a joke when you nodded.

"okay." you mumbled softly, and he swore that his heart had never started pounding so fast. due to his inexperience in romance, he had never really felt butterflies in his stomach... until now. he wanted to just take a handful of snow and shove it into his face to see if he was dreaming or actually experiencing this right now. but everything felt too real right now. he seemed to be noticing every miniscule detail right now.

the way your breath puffed softly into the air with every exhale, the soft blush that tinged your cheeks since you had just agreed to giving you first kiss to your best friend. the way that you eyes twinkled with the slight light from the city lights that were surrounding the both of you, and the snow that was still sprinkled lightly in your hair. but the most important detail that stood out to him was the way you were leaning closer to him. how those pretty lips looked like the softest thing. he found himself wondering how they tasted, and he'd be damned if he didn't find out.

and when your lips touched, all regrets simultaneously faded away.

all those years of feeling left out in life, the nights wishing that you would have someone to hold, someone to feel romance with. none of that mattered when you kissed each other. all of that was swept away, just like the breath from his lungs. he never knew that a moment like this would suddenly feel so intense, but he felt like right now he was being drowned and given life and nothing else mattered except for this kiss.

you weren't faring any better as well. the kiss was sweet. so much sweeter than you imagined. more so than the cookies you would bake together on a cold day, or the honey you would mix into your tea whenever you were sick. it's softer than the snow that surrounds the two of you in the current moment, impossibly softer than jungkook's voice whenever he's humming a tune to help you fall asleep at night.

the kiss tasted like the first shining rays of dawn, a start of something beautiful. it was a canvas upon which the sunrise of love would be painted. each touch was a brushstroke, creating a masterpiece of shared feelings written in the language of intertwined souls, feelings that had yet to be experienced until now. things that had been secretly brewing under the surface and shocked the both of you.

neither one in particular pulled away first, everything was too blurry to even remember it properly. both of you bombarded and overwhelmed with this emotions. the soft lights of the city around you which once illuminated your anticipation now exposed traces of vulnerability in both of your eyes - you couldn't help but wonder if jungkook had felt the same or if the symphony in your hearts was rather a solo performance on your side.

you had both unintentionally traveled into uncharted areas. words of everyone echoed through your mind right now, the countless times that you had been told that there was something more than just innocent friendship. jungkook could see the hesitation in your eyes, the instinct to retreat back into the safety of friendship the two of you had known for all these years. the promise to remain best friends for forever.

even the never-sleeping city of seoul and the intense snowstorm around you seemed to halt its movement, as if it was just waiting for something to be said. for a decision to be made, or for one of you to move back in again. waiting and waiting, and yet nothing ever came.

finally, a small, fragile smile spread onto jungkook's lips; an attempt to disregard the sudden tension in the moment surrounding you. it seemed to break you out of the trance you had been in, the world around you once resuming as you returned the smile back to him. as you gazed away from him and back towards the snow, the canvas filled with the starting of a masterpiece had been halted - waiting to be continued once again in the future.

your small canopy on the roof of your apartment was now a witness to what could've been, what might be. a shelf holding stories filled with chapters waiting to be filled and shared. but for now, it remained stagnant. this moment was held as nothing but that: a moment.

at least you could now join in the first kiss conversation with all of your friends.

end. ♥

[ace-of-zaun]

Don't Go (One-shot):

young!silco x gn!reader - 3.6k words - SFW 

cw: angst, fluff, breakup conversations, happy ending, reconciliation, arguments, silco struggling with his emotions, little bit possessive, soft silco, suggestive ending (this one is pretty angsty but don’t worry, it all works out in the end!)

summary: Silco, your long time boyfriend, does something you’d begged him not to, so you regretfully decide that you need a break from him. Silco has other plans. 

You didn't want to go. Not really. 

But after Vander’s revelation, you felt like you had no choice. 

Silco had been all fired up the night before, ranting and raving about his latest (and quite frankly terrible) plan of breaking into the Sheriff’s office Topside to gain information about any upcoming raids in your neighbourhood. 

The surprise Enforcer raids had been hitting businesses across Zaun at random, an M.O of storming in and ransacking each place with no clear means or motive, and definitely without any warning. 

Understandably then, Vander, Silco, and you had been particularly concerned that a raid would hit The Last Drop any day now, and despite every effort to hide anything that could give you away, there was a real fear that your revolutionary group would be discovered and brutally dismantled. 

But the idea of breaking into the Sheriff’s office of all places was beyond dangerous and to your frustration, you just couldn’t get Silco to listen to reason.

You’d pleaded with him not to do something so risky. You’d tried to calm down, told him to just wait until you could all discuss it together as a group and come up with a plan that wasn’t so grandiose, and in your view, completely and utterly stupid. 

Eventually, Silco had gotten frustrated and rolled his eyes, grumbling that he wouldn’t go as he’d slunk off downstairs to no doubt drink the night away in the bar. 

This morning you’d woken with him fast asleep by the side of you in bed and, assuming he’d wasted the evening drinking himself dry, you thought nothing of it until later this afternoon when you’d found out the truth from Vander. 

Silco had gone Topside to scout out the building that housed the Sheriff’s office. 

Vander had desperately tried to reassure you that Silco wouldn’t have done anything stupid but it had done absolutely nothing to douse the flames of anger and hurt spreading through you. 

The damage was done. 

Now, salty tears finally drying on your cheeks, you stand in your shared bedroom packing your belongings into the rucksack laid out on your bed. 

Silco is still out running errands so there's a note placed carefully on the desk in your bedroom. It's not ideal, but it's for the best. 

However cowardly it makes you feel to reduce your breakup to a measly note, you're too emotionally drained to even think about having another argument with him.

You just can’t deal with it right now. 

Planning to stay with a friend until you found somewhere you could afford by yourself, you convince yourself that if he truly wants you back, if he truly wants to fix things, he’ll come and find you.

You’ve already packed the easy things, like most of your clothes and your toiletries from the bathroom. The real challenge now it would seem is the more sentimental items, like the pile of gifts currently lined up on the bed that you’d received from Silco over the years. 

The little toy poro he'd scrimped and saved to buy you for your birthday that one year. Or the matching sunglasses he'd stolen as a little souvenir from your third date. 

As you stare down at the gifts on the bed wondering if you’ll have enough room to bring them all, the door opens behind you.

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before he’s even spoken. 

"There you are," Silco announces, his voice clearly tired but still laced with a hint of relief. "Vander said you were-" 

He cuts himself off as he undoubtedly takes in the state of the bedroom before speaking again in a tone of pure shock. 

"What are you doing?" 

You can’t bring yourself to answer so instead busy yourself with shoving all of the gifts into your bag before he can see them. 

"No," he breathes out from the doorway as it dawns on him. 

It sends a horrible pang of hurt ringing in your chest, only made worse when he pleadingly says your name.

"Please don't do this." 

"I have to, Silco," you sigh, trying to keep your heart as closed off as you can. It hurts enough as it is without you letting your emotions run wild. 

"You don't,” he says. “You don't have to." 

You stop answering because you can tell this particular line of conversation will just go in circles. 

Behind you, he shuts the door with a click and it irritates you into shoving more into the bag, no longer caring about being neat or if you should leave anything behind. 

"Is this because of what happened last week? I already told you that wasn't my fault," Silco continues when you don’t respond or turn to face him. 

He's referring to the incident where he almost got shot after taunting some enforcers for no good reason.

Truth be told, that incident had absolutely terrified you, but it was just one of the many reasons why you couldn’t keep doing this. 

"No, it isn't because of that," you say flatly. 

"Then why?" 

You finally turn to look at him, the first time since he’d left the bar this morning. (He looks gorgeous and like he's on the verge of heartbreak and you hate that you still love him despite it all.) 

"Where did you go last night?" you ask flatly, looking him square in the eyes.

As expected his expression instantly turns stony, but after years of learning and reading his tells, you can see the twitches of regret in his eyes. 

A few beats of silence pass and you know he’s too stubborn to admit it out loud. 

Your response is quiet. Resigned. 

"That's why."

Turning back round to face the bed, you begin to shove down all your belongings as far down into the bag as they can go, making sure you have enough room for the last bits that you know are in the wardrobe. 

"Look, I'm sorry for doing it behind your back, but I had to go," he starts, and it feels like the beginning of the heated argument that you were so desperately hoping to avoid.

Your cool facade broken, you whirl round to face him straight on, built-up ire finally pouring out of you in reams. 

"No, you didn't have to go! You went because you wanted to and you went even though I asked you- no, begged you not to," you yell at him.

He flinches minutely at the sudden raise in volume, but keeps his own voice calm and steady when he crafts his response. 

"You don't understand, this is important," he emphasises. "They cannot find out what we’re doing to fight against them, not when we’re this close to finally having the lives we deserve, that all of us deserve.”

It takes all your strength not to give in to his words and continue the argument with an incredulous scoff.

As if you don’t know all that. As if you didn’t spend your days fighting for Zaun as well. 

As if you didn’t fight every second for him. 

You shut it down immediately, twisting back round to face the bed. 

"I'm not doing this," you say blankly. 

"What?" he replies, clearly stunned. 

"I'm not arguing with you, Silco. I'm leaving." 

It breaks your heart to say it, but in this moment, you see no other way forward. Not if he’s going to keep on like this. 

Silco says nothing as you pack away the rest of your belongings into your bag, briefly recalling that you still have a few last bits in the wardrobe. You're almost certain that his anger is charging up in the silence, readying himself to launch into a whole speech about how wrong you are.

But when he does speak again, the sound of his choked-up voice feels like a shot directly to your heart.  

"You can't leave." 

Your heart sinks into your stomach and everything within you practically screams to cross the room and hug him, but you know that if you even look at him you’ll end up changing your mind. So, you move over to the wardrobe instead and pull open the doors to ensure he’s not in your line of sight. 

Silco says your name in that horribly soft timbre he only uses when he’s desperate and even though it pretty much tears you apart to ignore him, you focus on pulling the rest of your clothes from the closet.

He speaks your name again, this time even more desperately and you suddenly find yourself biting back tears. 

Fuck, why did he have to come home early? Why couldn't you just have some time to grieve by yourself? 

"Silco, it's over," you bite out, just wanting this horrible situation to be done with so you can work on healing. 

Finally moving into the room, you hear his footsteps creak on the old wooden floorboards behind you. 

You brace yourself for him to take your hand or wrap his arms around you but to your confusion, his footsteps halt in the centre of the room and you hear an unexpected rustling sound instead. 

Spinning around, you find Silco holding your backpack upside down in the air, emptying the contents back onto the bed with vigorous shakes. Your belongings drop onto the sheets in a crumpled mess, undoing all your work to get them all into the rucksack. 

Silco glares at the bag with tight-lipped hatred, as if it’s the reason you’re leaving, the longer strands of his hair falling down and bouncing with each rough movement of his arms. 

You stare at him in disbelief, your jaw slack until you find the words to confront him.  

"What the fuck, Silco? Put them back!"

He grips the bag even tighter. 

"No." 

And just like that, your astonishment slides into anger. 

"Silco," you warn, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Put. Them. Back." 

"Not if it means you'll stay," he replies obstinately. 

He continues to shake the bag but, ever the impatient boy, gets too frustrated and decides to drop the bag onto the bed. Rapidly taking out handfuls of your belongings until the backpack is empty, he then throws it at the wall furthest from you with a grunt. 

Silco’s gaze slides to look at you from across the room and you both stare at each other breathlessly, chests borderline heaving. 

A clear challenge. 

Unfortunately for Silco, you can be stubborn too. 

Without another word, you reach into the wardrobe and pull out his backpack, moving over to the other side of the bed to restart your packing. 

This time, Silco rushes around the bed to you and tries to grab your hand, but you pull it away, taking a step back. 

"Just stop-" 

"Please don't leave me," he pleads in the most heartbreaking, riven timbre you’ve ever heard him speak in and your heart wrenches. 

He sounds like the little boy you’d met all that time ago in those dark mines, the one who was so desperate to no longer be alone. 

"I'll do anything, I can't do this without you," he begs. 

"Do what without me?" 

"Any of it," he blurts out, running a distressed hand through his hair. "Some days, the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing that you'll be here when I get home."

Your insides jolt at such a vulnerable confession from such a headstrong man, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling you get when he suddenly drops to one knee in front of you, taking one of your hands in both of his. 

Heart racing ten to the dozen, you watch in horror as he glances up at you. 

He’d better not be doing what you think he’s doing…

"Silco-" 

"I love you," he says. "I love you more than anything in the world." 

You watch as tears line his lashes and soon find yourself matching. 

Fuck, you were expecting yelling and anger, not this. 

You’ve never seen him like this before. 

"Please," he repeats and it cracks your mask in two.

Your knees give out and you let yourself sink down onto the floor with him. 

Silco immediately throws his arms around you, only just stopping you from falling back with how quickly he presses his body against yours, burying his head in the crook of your neck. 

On instinct, you wrap your arms around his frame, one hand rubbing his back whilst the other cards through his inky strands as he rocks you gently from side to side. 

Little whispers of “Don't go,” and “I need you,” are mumbled into your hair, and you’re almost certain the wetness on your neck is from those tears that had been threatening to break free. You kindly decide not to mention it. 

Eventually, you sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut in a pitiful attempt to ease the difficult conversation up ahead. 

"Sil, I can't keep doing this."

He sniffles a little and pulls back to look at you but doesn’t let go. (He never lets go.)

"Doing what?" he asks, brows furrowing in that cute little way he does when he’s confused about something. 

"Watching you destroy yourself." 

"I'm not-" 

"You are, Silco, and it's hurting me," you enunciate, holding his cheeks to force his gaze on you. He needs to understand how serious you are about this. 

The horrified expression on his face instinctively causes you to brush some of his hair back tenderly while he processes your words. 

"I want a better Zaun too, but not at the cost of you sacrificing yourself," you continue, keeping your voice quiet but firm. 

He’s clearly overwhelmed, seafoam eyes so wide and trenched in deep-rooted panic. But with a lack of response to distract you, you’re forced to take notice of the pain spreading through your back and legs at the awkward sitting position you’re in. 

You shift your body, pulling away from him to situate yourself in a comfier position, but the second you loosen your arms from his thin frame, his hand desperately grip you even tighter, clutching onto you like a child to their mother’s leg. 

"No, I-"

"I'm not going anywhere, I just need to move before my legs go numb," you’re quick to reassure him. 

At this, Silco relaxes slightly, allowing you to move so your back is resting against the side of the bed. His fingers clasp onto your shirt the entire time and the very second you’re planted in a spot that doesn’t completely ruin your spine, he pulls you against him once more. 

"What- What can I do to make you stay?" he says between a harsh swallow. 

 You sigh, swiping a hand across your face tiredly. 

"I need you to stop this ridiculous crusade you're on. Or," you add when he goes to protest, "at the very least, include the rest of us in it." 

He bites the inside of his lip and entwines his fingers with yours. 

"You can't keep making reckless decisions by yourself, Sil. It affects all of us. Especially me." 

Silco keeps quiet for a few moments, so you give him time to think while his thumb rhythmically traces your knuckles back and forth. 

This can’t be easy for him. He’s pretty independent by nature (most Undercity kids are), but Silco is especially so when it comes to the fight for Zaun’s freedom. 

But if he wants you to stay, you’re going to need some compromise. 

"Okay," he eventually says, breaking the silence to gaze at you with muted hope. 

You’re not letting him off that easily. 

"Okay what?" you say expectantly. 

He sighs and suddenly he’s transformed into that petulant little boy again. 

"Okay, I'll run things by you and Vander before making any big decisions," Silco heaves, like it physically pains him to say. 

"And?" you prompt with a raised eyebrow. 

Silco stares at you with a look of disbelief, but his lip is curled in clear disgust. 

"There's no way I'm running anything by Benzo," he scoffs. "It'd be more useful talking to a brick wall." 

You slap his arm half heartedly and bite back a laugh. 

"No! I meant, are you going to stop throwing yourself into stupid situations for no reason?" 

"I knew you were still upset about last week," Silco replies, a knowing expression melting across his features. 

"Of course I'm upset about it! They almost shot you!" you fire back with indignation. 

As if you wouldn’t be horrified at the idea of your boyfriend getting seriously hurt and potentially arrested just for being an idiot. 

Silco gently combs his fingers through your hair, eyes tracing your features as that smug little smirk you secretly adore colours his lips. 

"The key word in that sentence is almost, my lovely." 

The glare you level him with is met by a crooked grin, but it’s soon wiped off his face when you jab his stomach with your elbow, ignoring the “Oof,” in favour of cuddling up to him even closer.

Silco lets out a sigh of relief and rests his head against yours whilst one hand sneaks up behind you to surreptitiously wipe his eyes dry with his sleeve. 

You allow yourself to relax for a few quiet moments, slowly calming each other down with soft touches until your breathing syncs up with the boy holding you close to his chest. 

Silco soon murmurs into your hair, hand smoothing along your waist. 

"So you'll stay?" 

"Yes, I'll stay," you reply softly, nestling into the crook of his neck. 

It’s seemingly not enough to soothe his nerves because he leans back and tilts your chin up with one finger until you meet his anxious gaze. 

"You promise?" 

"I promise, Silco." 

Relief melts through his whole body, but with it brings a cool wash of physical and emotional exhaustion that you wish you could wipe clean. 

"You know you can always talk to me, right?” you tell him gently, pinky finger delicately tracing along one eyebrow until the lines of his face relax. “I know you're always so busy trying to keep us afloat but you don't have to do it all alone. You can tell me when things are bothering you, it doesn’t make you weak or ‘less of a man’." 

He gazes at you in profound wonder before lightly cupping one side of your face with his hand. 

"I really do love you," he whispers, tenderly tracing one thumb down your cheek.

It feels like the weight of your near-breakup is lifted off your shoulders when you finally say it back. 

"I love you too, Sil." 

He leans down to kiss your head and you find yourself desperately hoping that he keeps his promise. You never want to have to go through this again. 

But for now, graced with another chance to stay with the only person you’ve ever loved, you focus on the present, needing to change the heavy atmosphere stifling the room. Your tone shifts into a light, coy thing that immediately grabs his attention. 

"You know, if you hadn't rushed in all guns blazing last night you'd have had the chance to listen to my plan for getting the info we need," you tell him. "Y'know, one that wouldn't get you thrown in Stillwater." 

Silco stares at you with a frown and you struggle to keep in the smile that threatens to break. 

"What plan?" 

"The one where I seduce a poor, unsuspecting enforcer and use a bit of good old-fashioned lip service to get what we need," you say coquettishly, batting your eyelashes at him innocently despite the clear innuendo lacing your words. 

Instantly, (brilliantly), his seafoam eyes darken with a delicious combination of jealousy and lust, sending a spark of hot desire through your body. 

"Not in a million years," he says gruffly, pulling you even closer to him. 

You twirl a playful finger through your hair. 

"I don't know, I think it's a great plan if you ask me," you reply with an air of teasing nonchalance. 

"I wouldn't let you anywhere near them,” his grip tightens on the fabric by your waist. “You're mine.”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, knowing exactly what it does to him. 

"Prove it." 

There’s a beat of electrified silence before Silco abruptly stands, pulling you up with him until you’re both on your feet.

He smoothly coils one arm around your waist, the other snaking around the nape of your neck until his lips hover tantalisingly above yours. And just when you think he’s about to finally close the gap, he pauses.

You frown, chest flooding with anxiety that you’ve done something wrong, or he’s changed his mind, or-

Silco removes the hand resting behind your head and before you can voice your concerns, he suddenly grabs the bed sheet, ripping it off the bed in a move that sends the mess of your once-packed belongings tumbling to the floor in a cacophony. 

"Silco!" you admonish him, already envisioning the amount of time and effort it would take to pick everything up and put it back in its rightful place. 

"What?” he says, like butter wouldn’t melt. “We can put it back in the morning." 

Then, he swiftly picks you up and tosses you onto the mattress, making you squeal in surprise. 

Silco kneels onto the bed and climbs until his body is hovering over yours, arms caging you in as you heat up, warmth flooding downwards in anticipation. 

"Now, I think it's time I make it up to you, sweetheart," he purrs, leaning down to hotly trace your ear with his lips. “I’m going to make sure you never want to leave this bed again.”

- A/N: don’t mind me, just casually obsessed with the idea of silco emptying out your bag to desperately stop you from leaving and then frenziedly trying to propose to you when he doesn’t know to deal with his emotions 💁‍♀️

[ivyblossom]

That thing where I feel like I'm going to have to write fanfiction again

This is a weird one. I just want to say it somewhere, so that I've said it somewhere, but I realize there's there's one person who actually cares about this and she already knows, so. This is just for me, I guess.

Fifteen years ago, I wrote most of a Narnia fic. It pairs of Edmund Pevensie and Bacchus, aka Dionysus, the ancient Greek god of grapes, wine and uninhibited ecstasy. Also theatre. I know, that's a bit weird. Is Bacchus even in the Narnia stories? (Yes, he is. He even has lines!) Why on earth am I pairing him up with Edmund, who is 10 when we first meet him?

It's all the weird memory tricks, I'm a sucker for those. The Pevensies forget about England because they stay so long in Narnia and stop thinking about England, and they can (and do) forget about Narnia if they stay in England too long and don't think about Narnia enough (poor Susan), and I find that really interesting. It offers up so many nooks and crannies to stick story in. They grow up and become adults in Narnia, but are required to forget most of it in order to return to build children in England.

And come on: is Bacchus not also very obviously the god of Narnian orgies? I mean, yes. Clearly. He's also Aslan's default caterer and water-into-wine head tech. If you need buildings destroyed and bullies turned into trees and/or pigs, Bacchus is your guy. He's not big on wearing clothes, and according to Edmund, he's incredibly beautiful and extremely dangerous. Edmund is only 10 when we first meet him, sure, but he grows up, reverse ages, and then starts to grow up again. Bacchus throws them a G-rated orgy in Prince Caspian. There's love there.

Hasn't Edmund suffered enough? Yes, he got addicted to the Turkish Delight that time, but he'd been struggling and was being bullied, he was carrying a lot of self-hatred and shame, give a kid a break. He did get himself heroically killed putting it right, only to be healed physically and psychologically by Santa Claus's magic healing cordial, as one does. Doesn't Edmund deserve a cute immortal boyfriend with quirky friends and a serious green thumb who grows his own grapes, makes his own wine, can manipulate and control the desires of everyone around him like conducting an orchestra, and who will love him until the end of time? There aren't many humans in Narnia, why not hook up with the god of uninhibited ecstasy? I mean, he's right there.

Anyway. It was fifteen years ago.

I wrote 3/4ths of it, I had one part left to go to finish it, I had an idea about what how it would end, but for some reason I never wrote the ending. I don't remember why. So it's been sitting there unfinished since 2009.

And in the last few weeks I started thinking about it again. I had an idea about that ending. I couldn't remember if this idea I was toying with was my original concluding idea or not, it's been that long, but I liked the idea, and I thought, you know, I should write that idea in as the last part and finally finish that thing.

And then I read what I'd written. And a) 15 years is a long time and I have so many criticisms, I was clearly in love with the sound of my own voice (uh...nothing's changed there I guess?), b) I wrote the thing in such a way to exclude my new idea, so apparently that wasn't my original plan, but c) yeah, I should have written this thing properly the first time around. And now I have 104 more ideas and I love them all, so.

I think I have to rewrite it. Or, I suppose, just write another one and replace it? I dunno. Just playing it out now.

I think I'm going to write it. Is this an active fandom? I don't think so. I don't care. This love story needs to be told. Edmund deserves this.

[middlingmay]

Recruiter!Gale x College Student!Bucky AU

Keep reading under the cut.

There were many things Gale was proud to do in the name of the US Airforce He would work with charities and could talk to vets all day long. He lent new recruits an ear when they struggle to settle in. He had flown headfirst and steady into warzones time and time again.

But he would not force anybody into the service.

He could never keep the distaste from curling his lip whenever someone at the base mentioned recruitment drives. And Gale didn't pull his rank for much; pulling teeth from him was easier. But he wielded it with zealous fervour whenever the PR and Recruitment Teams looked for someone to go to this high school or that college to boost numbers.

But then he'd become friends with young Ken Lemmons and before that he'd been born with a soft heart that betrayed him something fierce when Ken had come running to him in a desperate panic.

"She's leaving him, Gale. My mom's finally leaving him!"

Ken's mom had him young, and they were incredibly close in a way that made a highly unwanted jealousy curdle awful inside of him. But unfortunately, her judgement of character could be way off, according to Ken. The second he'd signed up and shipped out, some guy had come along and planted himself into Mama Lemmons' life and her house and refused to leave. Ken, Crosby and Rosie had been coming up with a plan to help her, but nothing had been working and Miss Lemmons had become more and more withdrawn.

One day, Gale had interrupted their solemn silence as they contemplated what to do, and said low and calm, a cup of coffee steaming in his hand and his hip cocked lazily against the counter, said, "I'll go get him, if you want."

Him. Not 'her'. Because of the four of them Gale knew best how removing the problem often meant removing the man.

Rosie had blinked. Crosby had paled. And Ken had looked wondrously fond and said, "Not quite yet, Sir."

But it seemed she had finally come to her senses.

"But she wants to go tonight. And it'll take me four hours to just get there, and her sister stays like another three hours away in Rockford, but I've got the start of the recruitment circuit tomorrow-"

By this point Ken was turning purple and Gale cut him off out of fear of him passing out.

"Calm down, Master Sergeant," he squeezed Ken's shoulder with a firm grip. "Now don't you worry. I'll get your leave approved."

"No Major," Ken flushed. "Colonel Huglin said it was fine so long as I found someone to step in."

"To step in for what?"

"The recruitment drive! We start the Wisconsin circuit tomorrow."

Gale suddenly felt like he'd been endeared into a trap.

"I thought it was going to be a bust but then Major Rosenthal suggested you!"

That ballsy son of a bitch.

"And I know it's a lot to ask, but it wouldn't be for the whole thing - just a couple of days while I get her settled and get the guy out of there."

Under the full force of Ken's baby face and the absolute trust he had that his Major and his friend would come through for him, Gale hadn't been able to do anything but hang his head, sigh, and curse this child to high heaven.

"Alright, Lemmons. I got you."

So there Gale stood, decked to the nines in his uniform, scowling at some pamphlets, and ignoring the smuggest Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal he had ever had the displeasure to be around.

"You're going to have to talk to me at some point, Cleven."

And damn you could tell Rosie had been a lawyer in a past life, the way he could goad you into talking.

"Why?" Gale snarked. "You've already been recruited."

Rosie rolled his eyes with such force he threw back his head. Put his whole body into it, in fact. "You're not hog-tying anyone and throwing them into a van, Gale."

Gale gave him a flat look he'd been told could level buildings and felt the 'yet' sitting on his tongue could go unsaid.

Rosie pointed a stack of pamphlets at him. "Stop it."

Gale just shook his head. "It's not like people don't know who the Airforce is, Rosie. Tryin' to get folks to enlist by sellin' them only the positives? It's dishonest."

Rosie got that glint in his eye Gale recognised from when the younger recruits pushed that inch too far and he'd started to consider violence.

"Or, it's a few days off base, and I know you need that."

Gale's face twisted.

"Ah-ah!" Rosie scolded him. "Don't you dare. You're becoming a workaholic hermit, Major Cleven. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't resort to subterfuge to derail those kinds of plans, huh?"

Gale just rolled his eyes and let the matter rest. He let Rosie do most of the talking anyway, but answered any question put to him fully and honestly.

By the time the afternoon had settled over them good and proper, it was getting hot. Gale took his hat off and swept his hair back where it fell over his eyes.

"-sus fucking Christ, Curt. Is he real?"

Gale swivelled at the voice behind him. Standing there, like a deer caught in the headlights, was a tall, athletic, freckled man. He wore a baseball tee, white with red sleeves, that showed off the breadth of his shoulders and the strength of his arms. Gale idly wondered if that baseball tee was actually functional with a frame like that. His head was a tumble full of brown curls, with glints of auburn in the sun.

Next to him, where Gale barely managed to spare a glance, was a shorter, stocky fella with a gleeful grin and a little crook to his nose - Curt the other one had called him.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Gale asked and the curly-haired fella cursed under his breath, "Really?!" as Curt elbowed him in the ribs and said, "Yeah, I'd say he's real, Bucky."

Rosie wandered over. "You fellas interested in a career in the US Airforce?"

Bucky's demeanour changed as he shifted his attention from Gale to Rosie. It got shaper like his friend as he smirked.

"What'dya think, Curt? You want a career to repress the queer? The military's still unofficially Don't Ask Don't Tell, right?"

Gale didn't like that at all. Not about the boys under his command. He strapped on his Major-voice fit for public, the one that reminded people he knew what he was about quick sharp.

"It most certainly is not."

Bucky eyed him, head to toe, and narrowed his eyes considering. "And you'd know, huh?"

"Yes sir, I would."

And any troublemaking Bucky had been planning was woefully undermined by the fierce blush that blossomed across his freckled face when he heard Gale say yes sir.

Bucky took a few brave steps forward, urged on by a boot to the back of his knee by Curt. Standing before Gale, he noticed Bucky's eyes were dark blue, not brown like he'd though. Bucky put both his hands in his back pockets, stretching the thin material of his shirt across the wide expanse of his chest.

But Gale was military. Gale had iron clad self control. He'd trained for this. He would not look down.

"So, uh," Bucky bit his lip and looked down and rocked on his heels and it was not cute. "If I signed up, would that make you my superior officer?"

Gale heard a thud from Rosie's direction.

"It would."

"And I'd have to report to ya and call you sir and what not?"

"This is not happening."

"Shh!"

"You-you don't shush a Major in the US Airforce!"

Gale ignored the bickering going on behind him, and fought the smile Bucky was nearly bringing out in him. "You would."

And he should shut this down. He should. He was workin' for God's sake. But.

"And as, uh, tempting as that is," he said to Bucky, dropping his voice lower that it already was, "I think you'd look much better in a baseballer's uniform than a military one."

Bucky's eyes sparked up in delight and Rosie took that moment to thwack Gale with his own hat.

"Major Cleven," he said, thrusting the hat into Gale's hands. "These young ladies from the Engineering School have some questions about the Ground Crew. Care to enlighten them?"

Gale dutifully donned his hat. "Sure thing, Major Rosenthal." He turned to Bucky and touched his cap. "Y'all have a nice day, now." And if he put some extra drawl in there to see if it would fluster Bucky, that was his business.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly after that, and by six pm they were loading up the jeep and preparing to head out to their digs for the evening.

When the last box was secure and the rear door shut, Gale turned around to check they hadn't left anything behind, when he saw a familiar face a few feet away.

Lord don't ask him how, but he managed to keep his smile small and in no way indicative of the hot, thrilling jolt the sight sent down his belly.

"You change your mind after all?" he asked Bucky.

Bucky laughed and sauntered over to Gale and Christ did that man have dimples.

"Nah," he grinned. "I just, uh, saw you packing up and thought I'd say hey."

Then Rosie began his muttering. "Seriously? The guys I've tried to set you up with and this?"

"Well, hey," Gale murmured.

Bucky stepped right on up, his confidence incongruous with the damn near bashfulness on his face. "Hey."

"One was a partner in a lawfirm-"

And a conservative jackass.

"Then there was the chef-"

Who thought the secret to good cuisine was goddamn eggplant. In everything.

"And the teacher! But this? This is what gets you going?!"

"Alright, you got me," Bucky said. "I, uh, came to see if you were doing anything tonight?"

Gale's tongue flicked out to wet his lips and Bucky's eyes locked on it like a target. "Am I?"

"Are you flirting?!"

And Bucky got mischief in his eyes and his hands got brave and came to curl over the lapels of Gale's coat. Strong and dextrous fingers skimmed down the sharp lines of his uniform, down to the catch of his button, and playfully toyed and traced the smooth metal stud.

When Bucky spoke, Gale fancied he could nearly feel the vibration against his mouth. "I have spent a frankly pathetic portion of the afternoon coming up with a lot of...creative ideas of what you could be doing. If you're open to 'em."

Gale slowly and deliberately plucked the keys of the jeep from his pocket and watched Bucky perk up as they jangled. Like a dog knowin' a treat was coming.

"Major Rosenthal-"

"Don't you dare, Cleven."

Gale didn't take his eyes off Bucky. "You better call a cab, Rosie."

Bucky's smile was satisfied and wolfish, and when Gale jerked his head towards the jeep, John bounded over to the passenger door, leaving Rosie stunned and gaping in his wake.

"There are no civilians in military vehicles, Gale!"

Gale shrugged and turned towards the driver's door. "Gonna report me, Rosie?"

Rosie swore up a storm and called after Gale as he got in the jeep and started the engine.

"I damn would!" he yelled as the jeep peeled away. "If I knew the write up for abandoning your fellow officer for some dick!"

[sassylegshayne]

Idiots Present: How to Fall in Love With Your Best Friend

hi guys!! here is the original request from the lovely @winifrede !! I absolutely adore her and all her support, I'm so excited I finally finished this piece up. I love it so much and I hope y'all enjoy it!!

2.6k words!! xx mwah

Shayne's soft chuckle pulled your attention from your laptop in front of you down towards the man with his head in your lap. His nose was buried in his book, his blue eyes darting quickly across the words.

Your heart lept to your throat as his eyes finally met yours, a grin spreading across his face and yours.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." Shayne taunted you, earning a light flick on his forehead.

"I have enough pictures of you already." You roll your eyes, trying to focus on your writing again, your best friend unwilling to help with that.

"Shayne," you warn in a hushed toned, your lips pressed together tightly as he sat up, his hand sneaking towards your side as he leaned into you. "Don't you dare."

"What? I'm not doing anything.." He chuckled, his cheeks bright red as you turned to look at him, the feigned harshness in your eyes qickly melting away.

Shayne's hand hovered at your waist, his mouth agape as his eyes searched your face. Your mind was racing as your eyes finally met his again, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Shan-Ye!"

You two jumped back a bit, settling back into the couch as your eyes looked anywhere but to the man beside you. Damien offered you a smile, but his eyes scanned over you suspiciously.

Damien, as well as most of your other friends, refused to believe that you and Shayne couldn't be just friends.

Sorry, just best friends.

"Are y'all busy for the next hour or so? We're about to shoot 'Idiot's Present' but we could use a few more audience members?" Damien asked, eyebrows raised with a hopeful grin. Shayne shrugged, checking his watch before glancing to you.

"I can't speak for m'lady, but I'm free." The brunette looked to you, an excited gleam in his eye.

"I mean, I'm free, technically." You chewed your lip, avoiding the puppy dog eyes both of your friends were giving you. do have to finish this sketch.."

You finally look away from your screen to find both men pouting dramatically, causing you to breaking into laughter, finally agreeing. You'd been in a few ideos now, especially with the recent amount of cast videos, but it was different because you often wrote for "ldiot's Present."

You begrudgingly gave up on fighting with Jeremy and Patrick over it. The two men were adamant in their arguments, claiming that they had the perfect idea in mind, all you had to do was trust them.

The videos you had been in were a huge hit, every small moment between you and Shayne had been the most rewatched parts. Shayne had his arm draped around your shoulder in one video, the next video fans pointed out how you had been wearing Shayne's dark green flannel.

The fans loved it, your Twitter mentions were filled with screenshots of the two of you. Shayne made it a point to watch the edits made for you two as soon as he'd discovered them. The last few shoots became a game for the two of you. You had so much fun watching everyone freak out over things that were so normal for the two of you, so what if you two made it worse?

You and Shayne didn't have any feelings for each other, none at all, so you two wanted to see how far you could take it. Shayne and you were more than happy to enact this plan, a recent stream driving the fans crazy. Shayne was building another Lego set, this time he had been able to get his hands on some Star Wars sets.

About halfway through the stream, Shayne had gasped when he found a certain figure. Grinning, he set the figure aside before glancing around behind the camera.

"Y/N, c'mere, I have something for you." Your head popped up from behind your laptop screen, quickly hopping up from the couch to join him on the set. You settled into the cushions beside him, waving at the camera.

Shayne set the figure slowly into your open palm, your face turning bright red as you burs into a fit of laughter at the sight of the Lego Jar Jar Binks in your hand. Shayne couldn't hold back his laughter as he watched you giggle at the inside joke, wiping away a few tears once you'd settled down.

"Should we.. I think we should explain it, right?" You asked, Erin commenting that chat seemed just as confused as they all were.

"Okay, it's, it's very stupid but... Jar Jar is into BDSM.." Shayne began, barely able to hold in his giggles as you hid your blushing face in your hands. "Call him Jar Jar Kinks."

"It's so dumb!" You call out from behind your hands as laughter ensues around you. Shayne didn't expect something so genuine between the two of you, a stupid joke you'd told him years ago, to become a moment the fans loved. The meaning behind the joke became a huge speculation for the fans, which you two found hilarious.

The more you two pushed it, the more your friends and coworkers began to question it. The two of you were blurring the lines of friends and more, and confusing everyone. No matter what, the two of you were adamant that you were just friends.

Finally, Jeremy and Patrick knew what they had to do, and set out on their plan.

Once you three arrive at the set, Damien is quick to fill the last seat in the audience, causing a quick burst of laughter to come from Shayne as the realization hits the two of you.

Your cheeks turn bright red as your mouth is agape, Kimmy and Kiana's giggles from behind you cause you to burst into your own fit of laughter.

"Okay, yeah, this is great!" Shayne called out sarcastically, clapping as you two are quickly mic'd up, the cameras rolling since the moment you'd walked in. "Hope you guys have the chimp ready."

"A double surprise, since we're double the idiots." You laughed as Shayne took your arm in his, leading you to the markers.

"We might be idiots on just about everything, but my partner and I are very clearly experts on today's topic." Shayne began, taking a step back, standing on the opposite side of the screen.

"That we are, Shayne. We've studied this topic alongside each other for years. Hell, l'd say, we've spent almost our entire friendship on it." You looked over your shoulder, Shayne nodding in agreement just as the slide changed.

You spoke with confidence, a small fit of laughter roaring across the audience, very few of them knowing just how deeply you'd just dug your grave.

The two of you stepped back, your arms spread as the slideshow began, grinning out at the crowd.

"Oh.. oh my god." Shayne shrieked with laughter as his eyes scanned over the title card, the room eruptina into fits of lauahter. Your head snapped quickly, your eyes wide as you squealed at the title, quickly doubling over in laughter.

"This is ldiot's Present: Falling in Love with Your Best Friend." You managed to get out, quickly turning your back to the board, glaring playfully at everyone that you could.

Your eyes landed on Patrick and Jeremy, their excitement evident on their grinning faces as they both offered you thumbs up.

"Shayne and I are best friends, who are definitely not in love, but we will show you how to become best friends in love today." Shayne took a deep breath, trying to hold it together as he looked to you. He couldn't read the emotions on your face, but the smile across your lips was enough to assure him that you two could do this.

"Step one," Shayne and you called out as you gestured to the screen. "Buying coffee?" You nodded in encouragement as Shayne read, the confusion evident on your face, as it seems to dawn on the brunette.

"Oh, okay." Shayne scoffs as he takes a step forward. "The easiest way to someones heart is through their.." He began, pointing to the crowd as they sat in silence. "Coffee order! Awesome, glad you quys got it."

You stifled your laugh as Shayne clapped, your cheeks blushing brightly as you realized where he was going.

"It's super important to learn the other person's coffee order early on, you need an excuse to talk to them." Shayne nodded, his cheeks blushed brightly as he took in his friends' knowing smiles. The two of you had been going to the same coffee shop since before you'd become friends, just now.. you know every one of Shayne's orders and he knows all of yours. Bringing each other coffee every morning, or afternoon, or evening is totally platonic and not just another excuse to see each other. "It's almost as important as step two, right, Y/N?" Shayne looked over his shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"R-right, absolutely." You agree, looking over your shoulder as the next slide is shown. You felt way more nervous than you'd expected to. Shayne and you had been pretending for a while, why did it all suddenly seem so real?

"Step two, sharing everything!" You turn to the audience, tugging at the sleeves of Shayne's flannel you had on, certain that your blush was permanent at this point.

"Shayne and I love to share everything, from clothes" You began, Shayne gesturing to you for example, the crowd giggling as he mirrored Will Smith's red carpet pose. "to food, to books, to friends!"

"They always say sharing is caring, and we love to show each other how much we care." Shayne nodded, stepping closer to you as his hand settled around your waist, tugging you into his side.

"Now, step three would be." You began, the screen displaying a set of pictures of you and Shayne, the two of you quick to look at each other.

The twinkle in Shayne's eyes left a flutter in your heart as you took a deep breath, chewing your lip softly before turning toward the crowd.

"Examples, and Shayne and give plenty of examples of how to fall in love with your best friend.." You giggle, your cheeks blushed brightly as Shayne takes a shaky breath.

"Yanno, you've met your best friend, you guys are super close, now it's time for all the cute stuff." Your fingers are intertwined with Shayne's as he speaks, squeezing your hand gently.

"You guys should share your music, hold hands, cuddle... all things that friends do.. when they're in love." Shayne spoke slowly, small chuckles scaping him as kept talking. You nodded your head, grinning brightly as Shayne glanced over his shoulder to you. His hands were shaking, his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He'd never felt like this before, it was like he had been hit by a truck. Shayne is in love with you.

"For the next slide," You continued, finally looking away from his blue eyed gaze, worried about whether or not you'd be able to make it through the rest of this shoot. "We will be demonstrating how to admit.. your love."

You chuckled nervously as you read the slide, Shayne quickly moving to face you, his hands held out to you. You placed your shaking hands in his as you mumbled a small apology. You jumped bit as the crowd chuckles, pulling you back into reality. When you look up to Shayne, he gives your hands a gentle squeeze, taking a deep breath.

"Y/N.. my best friend, I.. love you." Shayne spoke out shakily, a small chuckle escaping him as his eyes scanned your face. A smile tugs at your lips, your mind and heart racing a million miles an hour.

Your mouth was agape as it dawned on you. You love Shayne. You've been spending all this time convincing yourself that you're not, but here you are, in love with your best friend.

"I love you too, Shayne.. my best friend." After a small beat, the room around you two burst into cheers of excitement. The two of you jump a bit, Shayne tugging you into him as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

Shayne places his lips softly to your forehead before taking a step back, a bright smile across his lips. You match his grin, your mind still racing, not certain of how true his feelings are.

"I mean that.. and I wanna talk about it off camera.." Shayne assured you, leaning in to speak quietly to you.

You two took a step back, Shayne's hand quickly grabbing at yours, your fingers lacing together. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in all the joy on the faces of your friends around you.

"And for the next slide," The two of you began laughing again as the final slide read 'Congrats Shayne and Y/N!'

"We will say our goodbyes! We hope you guys learned a lot today, my partner and I loved this opportunity to teach you guys how to fall in love with your best friend!" Shayne finished, holding your intertwined hands up in the air before the two of you bowed, cheers erupting from your crowd again.

Shayne quickly tugged you off to the side with him, frantically getting his mic pack off before he took a second, looking up to your grinning face. He couldn't believe he said those words, he couldn't believe he didn't realize it sooner.

You were quick to follow suit, taking off your mic before handing it off, leading the way off of the set. Shayne was quick on your heels, his heart racing even more than before.

As soon as you stepped into the hall, you turn around, wrapping your arms around Shayne, pulling him into you quickly. You can feel him sigh as he relaxes into your arms, holding you tightly.

The two of you hold each other for a few seconds, taking a step back and finally looking at each other again. You two break into a fit of laughter, the tension in the air finally seeming to settle after everything that had just happened.

"I'm never letting Patrick and Jeremy write for that again." You giggled as Shayne rolled his eyes playfully. "I'm thankful for that, though."

"You are?" Shayne looked to you with brows furrowed, your heart melting at the concern on his face.

"Of course am.. I don't know how I didn't realize it sooner..." You laugh softly, your cheeks burning brightly, finding Shayne's face matching yours.

"Me either, honestly. We're dumb." He laughed, resting his forehead against yours, your heart racing.

"Idiots, actually. Idiots in love." You spoke, Shayne sighing softly as his hand cupped your cheek softly, his lips lightly brushing yours.

"Shayne!"

You jump back a bit, a smile across Shayne's lips before he quickly presses them to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he issed you gently.

Just as quickly as it happened, he pulled away, turning over his shoulder to see Damien waving him back into the room. You lean to the side, peeking around Shayne as Damien gasps, holding his hands up quickly as he notices you.

"Shit, I'm sorry! Take your time!" The purple haired man called out an apology before disappearing back onto the set, filled with embarrassment.

"Shayne," You called to him, a grin spreading across his face as he turned back to you. "I love you, seriously."

"I know." He chuckled, stroking your cheek gently. "I love you, too."

"This video's gonna drive the fans insane." You grinned, Shayne rolling his eyes playfully as he pulled you into his chest, holding you tightly.

[malikselfindulgence]

RED SON X READER BLURB ☆ 1K WORDS

Description: How Red Son tends to show his love to his partner :3

Content: RED SON REFERRED TO WITH HE/SHE/THEY PRONOUNS! I personally see her as genderfluid but any hc is cool. Reader is gender neutral

Fic under the cut!

Red Son doesn't really ever say "I love you" 

He might have whispered it once, but you were half-asleep in his lap and the warmth from his hands threading through your hair turned your brain to mush, so you could've been imagining it. Besides that, he's never said the dreaded L-word.

You're not sure why- perhaps an aversion to such disgustingly vulnerable words in general, or his parents hammering lesson after lesson of how displaying emotions so openly is weak. Or maybe it's a lot simpler than that, and the thought had simply never crossed his mind.

Red Son does love you, though. You know this, and they know it too. They tell you they "tolerate your company" and that you're "just adequate enough to be in their presence"- both code words for I like being with you. 

Red Son's love is his driving force- it builds up in his chest and overflows out of him, despite his insistence that his heart is black and cold.

For her family, it's countless nights spent in her lab, working on their next plan to overtake the world, it's trying to live up to her father's legacy, not allowing a single smidge of dishonour to smight her family's name, it's continuing to live in the demon bull fortress, despite the fact that she's over 400 years old now and old enough to live in her own house. 

For his friends, it's reminding them of their self worth when needed- however brash and blunt he may be, it's watching Mei's streams as he works, leaving small comments to show her he's listening, it's helping MK fix up his dreadful noodle-cart while begging him to put it out of its misery and purchase a new one already.

For you, however, it's a bit of a mix of these.

For the first few months of your relationship, it was a lot of trial and error. There was a cultural gap between you and Red Son, demon courting being completely foreign [and frankly concerning] to you. And even if there wasn't, Red Son had no relationship experience. They were still reeling from having friends now, never mind a romantic partner.

Red Son would try to read up on mortal's courting customs [or "dating", as he's come to learn], he'd sit through those crappy rom-com movies and shudder each time they did something over the top, he'd even thought about asking Mei for help, which was just wholly embarrassing, and he totally didn't try to subtly do so only for her to call him out on it and laugh immediately.

It started out with a lot of choppy romantic gestures that just weren't….Red Son, despite how hard he tried to enjoy them, and after a long conversation [or two, or three-], you two eventually found your rhythm, one you both enjoyed and found comfort in.

Red Son built you things- trinkets and machines and the like. If you mention off-handedly that you'd been wanting this thing for ages but just never had the money or time, you best believe they'll be showing up on your doorstep the following morning with a box hidden behind their back. They also fixed things for you- your fridge, your washing machine, your kettle. They grumble the whole time about how out-dated and rusty and repulsive your tech is, but they've never once turned down your requests. They've even offered to upgrade your TV a few times, but you're just too attached to the old thing.

Red Son spends a lot of time with you, even if you two aren't actively engaging in conversation. You'd sit across from each other, or in each other's laps, doing your own separate thing, just in each other's company. Every once in a while you pipe up with a random thought or question, and he shares his own as well before you two fall back into comfortable silence. You like watching him work with his hands, and he likes seeing how passionate you get over your hobbies. He shares parts of his life with you and you do so as well in turn.

Red Son's also shockingly touchy with you. She's not one for grand acts of physical affection- picking you up in public and hand-feeding you syrupy fruits and whatnot, but she will loop her pinky finger around yours when you walk, she'll kiss your forehead just before you head to bed, hug you from behind when she's freshly awake and still sleepily dazed, and once she gathers up the courage to do so, kiss you when her feelings rush through her body and send her hurtling towards you. She always has to be touching you in some way or another.

Most importantly, Red Son tries for you, and for themselves. They still mess up sometimes, they still get scared and terrified and defensive, they're still figuring themselves out, but they try for you. Red Son'll try out a new food just because it's your favorite, or will dabble in new music genres for your sake. Even more than that- Red Son tries to be more open, they try to talk about things they've never spoken aloud before, they try to listen to you- they start taking breaks more often, and eating better, and their self confidence rings a little truer and a little less fake each day. It's more than you could ever ask for. 

So, no, Red Son doesn't really say "I love you", but you don't mind. You hear it in the shared space between the both of you, in the mugs of your favorite drink freshly brewed and handed to you when you're stressed, in the angry notes scolding you for not resting properly, in the brush of his hand against yours. You hear it loud and clear, and you whisper your response into his hair every morning, every evening, every night,

 "I love you, too." 

[taiey]

hi guys i watched Pangi's vod An honest talk with Flamefrags and came out of it A Flame Fan 💖 i shall now attempt to spread this affliction 😌

Like I do appreciate just the bare fact that he did log in to chat with Pangi, because he asked. And then went and... built a house with him? Just because. Like they spent an hour this, he's not actually kidding when he says that he does show up for other people's bits.

Anyway. Here are some things Flame says, when they got onto building:

I don't like building: everything I build gets destroyed

I won't build at spawn, I'm scared I'll get arrow cannon'd

I don't like getting attached to places, someone'll trap it

"putting the entrance *here* would make sense but if it's *here* I can see more people if they come to attack me"

Having pets also gets him killed, "I had to drop that a while back."

"How can you dedicate this much time to something, just to know it could be gone instantly?"

(me like a month ago: huh Flame keeps going through the wall instead of the door of his base, that's potentially interesting.) (me now: oh NO) this is what being immortal means, apparently: being constantly aware of all the ways you could die.

so. in. addition to your "man who had to burn off him caring about anything other than fighting because it will get him killed". thing. 🥺

There's the whole audience angle that I find tasty to chew on. Like he opens by saying, he dies once on Lifesteal and everyone's mocking him and he wanted to prove himself. And then the "I have four thousand people watching me and now I let them all down and they start slandering me in the chat"—calling it clickbait, I hear. And it's like—

Did you know one time Flame was a streaming grinding villagers in his volcano-adjacent base and someone paid him money to tell him they would pay him more money if he killed Zam? (the answer, at the time, was—I'm not killing Zam, I'm allied with him, Zam built this base.) Did you know one time he killed Jepexx, metaphorically turns to the camera to say "chat, you be begging me to kill people. Then look, I just killed him in three hits. Are you happy? That's why I want to fight actual good people, like... Is this what you guys wanted? An easy kill?" and then two minutes later he died to Leowook's void trap? Like the emergent symbolism, guys. Did you hear that he died to a wither he had already killed because he was responding to chat?

"I have to blow up spawn tonight or I'm lying, again"

i want to Chew

And then there's a reflection of the stream audience in the audience of, like Wemmbu, and Manepear, which we get in inside flamefrags mind, like... can you back down when other people are looking at you expecting it, encouraging it, going through with it with or without you? You can't understand the - character of Flamefrags without putting that pressure somewhere. (i do like fics where these characters are streaming their own lives)

They blow up his house; Mane says it was just Wemmbu and that Wemmbu didn't know it was Flame's but we don't know. He was very suspicious and withheld for a long time but by the end of it he was joking with Pangi and putting real effort into making the fireplace look nice with the bricks and the grate. Like, like, like—You take - one step down a path you've been avoiding for so long because every time you've tried it leads to ruin. And then your friends burn it down. Don't go that way, even a little. Just blow stuff up, that's what's fun, that's what we do for fun. Not that.

. . . probably reading too much into it.

Also he said he expected that if he'd fought the six people everyone would've just run away as soon as he started winning/killed one person, and told Pangi his plans for later were getting enchanted apples, and just generally gave the impression that he could plausibly win a 6v1 by straightforwrdly having 20 hearts and notch apples and being Flamefrags. :) i am not immune to being an audience that thinks it's neat when he's super good at fighting. :) also also it's not just the four Declared Pacifists he's complaining about, they made a list of thirteen people on lifesteal who in general wouldn't fight (4c, zam, ecorridor, midmystixc, mrcube, pangi, squiddo, jaron, kaboodle, poafa, terrain, spepticle, woogie) and you could add or subtract a couple (pangi argued him out of bacon; uh, i do dispute,) but gosh that actully is a lot.

In conclusion Pangi's going to make a Flame Lore video and I hope it is Good and I can just point people at that when it's out 🙏

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The DUFF 9

Warnings: groping, insecurity, food and body issues, manipulation, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

Image credit (I want to give dues where due but don’t want the creator to keep getting tagged in my posts as I have been approached by some before that they don’t want me in their notifs)

You don't know what to wear. You don't even know where you're going. All you know is Curtis will be there soon.

You take a middling approach to your outfit. A nice circle skirt with a simple blouse. It won't be too much for somewhere casual or too slobbish for a more upscale venue.

You grab your purse and clutch your phone tight as you head out. Downstairs, you wait in the shade of the building. You bounce impatiently, checking over and over for a message.

The long you wait, the more uncertain you feel. The day before was intense and you start to think it's all a big joke. What if he's not coming? What if he'd just been playing with you? That would make a lot more sense.

A red car pulls up at the curb but you hardly notice. Not until the window rolls down and your name drifts through. You flick your eyes up and smile.

You follow the walkway and cross the sidewalk. As you approach, the locks click loudly. You let yourself into the car and pull your skirt out of the way of the door as you close it.

"You look great, bunny," Curtis greets and you flinch as he leans over to peck your lips, "ready for lunch?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," you reply as you nervously hug your bag.

"Before we go," he reaches into his jacket pocket, dark denim undone over a black button-up, "gotta put this on."

He takes out a black blindfold and you blanch. What? Why?

"It's a surprise, bun bun," he says, "I got it all planned out. Just you and me."

"I don't know…" you utter.

"Our first date has to be perfect," he continues as if he's not even heard you, "better than any date you've had before."

You don't say anything. There's a gleam in his eyes that suggests there isn't anything you can say. You just have to get through whatever he has planned. Besides, it's romantic, right? A surprise. Your friends would gush if they ever found a guy who put in that sort of effort.

You let him put the cloth over your eyes and he knots it firmly, adjusting it so your vision is completely obscured. His fingertips brush along your cheek and neck and he squeezes your shoulder.

"Relax, I got it from here," he assures you, "you're gonna love this. Promise."

He steers away from the curb and you lean into the seat with the motion of the car. It's a strange feeling, one that disorients you. Your heart pounds behind your ears and your skin turns to ice. Should you be going along with this?

You squirm, resisting the urge to pull down the blindfold with each turn. He stops several times, only idling before carrying on. As the journey stretches on, you start to wonder where exactly you're going. Well, it's really all you've been thinking.

It feels close to an hour before he finally shuts off the engine. You can hear trees rustling and birds chirping. The sun is warm through the car window and adds to the sheen of sweat forming over you.

You reach for the cloth but Curtis stops you. He grabs your hand, rubbing your knuckles, and bids you to stay.

"Gotta get set up, bunny, just a few minutes," he kisses your temple before he gets out of the car.

You sit stiff and unsure. You hear him open the back door, then shut it, the muffle of activity just outside the car. Your anticipation grows to anxiety.

When he opens your door, you wince. He unbuckles your seatbelt and guides you out of the car. You step onto soft ground and he leads you further, stopping and angling you around.

He gets behind you and unties the knot. As the fabric falls away, you can't help but gasp. There's a plaid blanket spread over the lush grass and a basket atop it with an assortment of pillows. There are several dishes already set out for the picnic and a bottle of wine.

"Wow, you did all this?" You ask. Suddenly you feel very stupid. And guilty.

"Sit, bunny," he gestures to the round pink pillow with the frilly edge.

You sputter. You're blown away by it all. He's a bit overbearing but you've never had anyone do so much for you. Hell, you've never even been on a proper date. Maybe yesterday was just a fluke.

You sit and he lowers himself across from you. He grabs the bottle of wine and presents it.

"I got some rose, I wasn't sure your preference but it pairs well with hummus and soft cheeses," he explains.

"Oh, nice," you fix your skirt as it rides up, "wow, I can't believe you did all this."

"Of course, bunny. And after, we can go for a nice walk by the river."

"This is such a beautiful spot, how did you find it?"

"Hm, I like to explore. Don't get a lot of that these days. So quiet out here. I usually bring a book but… happy to have company."

Your cheeks burn and you fidget. You can't believe you were so worked up over this. You feel awful for immediately painting him in such a bad light. You're just not used to the attention, it isn't fair to project that on him.

He takes a glass and fills it with the blush wine and offers it to you. You accept it with a breathy thank you and watch a butterfly flutter by. You couldn't have ever dreamed up anything so perfect.

"You look beautiful, bunny," he corks the wine, "I like that skirt," he sets the bottle aside and touches your hem, "maybe we'll have some time for dessert."