#i grit my teeth and stayed until the end but uh. this is the version they gave over a billion streams. not the original. aight

[theinfinitedivides]

i am. Genuinely Asking what exactly did Sel*na Gomez's verse add to Rema's Calm Down that it didn't have without her. someone tell me pls bc i'm not getting it

[pygmi-cygni]

clever boy - MK x GN!reader

reader gender is not described could be literally anything. inspired by this post that made me giggle for ten minutes

sfw, no risky content, just silly cuteness. jake isn't mentioned sorry lockley stans but maybe I'll do another version w him <3

Steven and Marc, Marc and Steven. The two of them, peas in a pod. Keeping each other company in Steven's tiny flat.

Until, you.

You'd caught both their eyes, really, but Steven called dibs because he was fronting when you'd met. Though, Marc argued, he was feeding the poor guy lines because he was blushing so hard he couldn't think straight.

From the first day, Steven wanted to jump the gun and tell you how pretty you were and invite you over forever and gush and gush but no. Marc was patient, reminding him to breathe, to take his time. They were in this together, and he didn't want his hope for your affection to be crushed by his headmate's eagerness.

So Steven sat back, hands wringing his sleeves and a stupid smile smarting his cheeks. You thought he was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. His sass made you keel over laughing, listening to his funny recounts of ignorant customers or mishaps on the bus.

He was sweet and pretty and so, so clever.

Which is what first planted the seed of doubt that he didn't like you the way you liked him. Steven, as much as he stuttered, was sharp as a tack. He loved puzzles and trivia and escape room games (though the real thing made his hair stand on end). You thought for sure he'd sniff you out in an instant; your growing crush wasn't discreet.

But he never mentioned it, never made a move, nothing. Marc, whom you'd met a few weeks later, was also very smart. He liked deeper conversations, and his warm gaze would be intensely focused on whatever subject you'd picked. Surely, if Steven missed your hints, Marc would give him a wink and a nudge and bam, game on.

Still, nothing but platonic smiles.

Little did you know, a tug of war was raging in your friend's mind the second you left his flat.

The three of you shared a wall, so Marc ensured his whisper-fights with Steven stayed quiet.

"Too soon," Marc hissed into the kitchen mirror. It was small and round, and you had left a little sticky note with a smiley face on it for them to see in the morning.

Steven was tearing his hair out in the small frame, eyes round and watery. Mate, I've never had this much courage to do anything in my life, you know that, please, it can't be that bad!

Marc gritted his teeth. Naive little Steven.

"What if you scare them off, huh? We've known them for a month and you think they'll jump in just like that?"

Steven paused his worrying, realizing for the first time the kind of fallout that might occur. His cow eyes saddened, imagining the empty space that would replace you, if you didn't reciprocate. He couldn't live with that.

"Just a bit longer," Marc sighed, rubbing his face. He needed to sleep. Steven continued to fume, for once at odds with his best friend.

You'd noticed his distance. Steven, always happy to see you, had withdrawn. He waved quietly in the morning, and mumbled a good night when you passed his door. It stung. Marc was stoic as ever, but his jaw was tighter and he didn't look you in the eye.

Something was wrong.

So, like any good friend would, you picked up takeout and a few movies and knocked on Steven's door.

It took a few moments, but your favorite mop of curls soon peeked out from behind the frame.

"Oh, erm, uh, heya, sorry, did we plan something? I, um," Steven still didn't look you in the eye, fumbling with the latch as he stuttered through an apology. You stepped forward and touched his shoulder.

Smiling what you hoped was gently, you eased his worry. "I just wanted to say hi. I brought snacks," you said, holding up the warm bag of food.

Still nervous, Steven nodded and beckoned you inside.

Bollocks, he griped. Marc was having a conniption, trying to come up with a reason to push you back out. It's raining, Steven pleaded, and we haven't hung out for ages and Thai smells really good and they've got that cute sweater on-

That's the problem, Marc tossed back, you'll trip all over yourself like a fool. Lemme front-

Steven had to bite his lip to stop from yelling his dissent. He'd been pestering Marc to invite you over for days, now was his chance.

You were dividing the curry and rice into equal portions while he poked through the movies and games you'd brought. There were a couple of his favorites, Clue, James Bond (The originals, of course) and some he didn't recognize.

"Hey, what's this?" He grabbed a small box and peered at it. You paused your chopsticks and leaned over.

"Oh," you said around a mouthful of rice, "I dunno, Rachel from work recommended it." You picked at your food as he flipped it over to read the back.

20 Questions, it was titled. Forty different cards, each with a subject. One person had the subject and the other had to guess what it was in twenty questions or less. Only three hints allowed and nothing made-up.

"Let's do it," Steven decided. He enjoyed a challenge and if it meant he could hear your lovely voice, he wasn't complaining. Marc had fallen silent, taking to brooding in the background. Probably for the best - he wasn't very good at puzzles.

You wiped your hands on a napkin and took the first card.

"A classic movie," you read. Steven rocked on his heels for a moment, fiddling with his plate.

"Got it," he said.

You knew what to start with. Steven loved classic movies, but none of the scary ones. Probably something historical.

"Does it take place in the last fifty years?"

He nodded, chewing. One.

"Does it have a female protagonist?" Two.

He shook his head gleefully. That familiar Steven sparkle was back, and it eased the worry in your head. He wasn't so off, then. Maybe just a bad week.

"Does the man have a whip?" You were grinning, sure you'd got it. Steven's lips twitched - he knew he'd been found out.

It took only two more questions for you to guess Indiana Jones, to his shock. You blamed it on luck rather than the adorable predictability of your friend.

Steven's turn next, and it took him halfway to guess "Fondue" at Favorite food. You went back and forth, giggling at each other on the floor of his rainy flat. Steven protested when you argued that he couldn't use himself for Favorite Superhero.

"I am a hero," he wheedled, gesturing to the Moon Knight stuffie you'd got him as a joke.

"Yeah, but you can't guess yourself," you argued. Nowhere in the rules did it say that, but it felt good to have your bickering sessions. You'd missed this - bantering over stupid issues with tummies full of food and a fun game to play.

Steven blushed when you mentioned it. "Sorry," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. "I got busy, 'n Marc was being pissy 'cause - yeah you were, don't be a knob," he muttered to himself. Your grin twitched at the mention of your other friend.

"How is Marc?"

He swallowed thickly. "Uhm...he's, uh, he's swell. Hang on, sorry-" There was a pause as he flickered between scowling and mumbling.

You ignored his stuttering and resumed eating. He needed space at the moment; Marc was probably arguing over something. You didn't want to make them uncomfortable.

"Sorry," Steven said sheepishly. "My turn, yeah?"

Setting down your empty plate, you nodded. Flipping a card, you saw alarm flash across his face. You laughed nervously.

"What?"

He swallowed and smiled nervously. "Nothing, nothing. Ah, I guess, we can skip it if you want...?"

You snatched the card and froze. Longtime Crush.

Fuck. Stay calm, this will be fine. A door of opportunity glowed in your mind, and you smiled.

"No. Let's do it."

Steven, still wary, nodded and tried to push away the intense shame inside. This was going to crush him. He could feel Marc's annoyance through the barrier. Told you so. Not wanting to ruin your game, he soldiered on.

"Is...are they...a man?" You nodded, eyes glittering. God this was worse than torture.

"Have you known him very long?"

You thought about it. "Yeah, I guess. Feels like forever." Great, you'd had a childhood crush all along. He never stood a chance. Marc was burying his head in his hands. Steven wanted to push him to the front so he could have a good cry, but he needed to face it. His fault you were here anyway.

"Do you see him at work?"

"N....Sometimes," you added. He scrunched his nose.

"Whaddya mean sometimes? Either you do or you-"

"Next question," you laughed. Steven wracked his brain.

"Oh, bugger, uh...." he didn't want to pry, but he couldn't think of anything.

"Need a hint?" You were on the verge of cackling. Grumpily, he shook his head.

"Does he live nearby?"

"Definitely."

He pursed his lips, thinking of your small social circle. Your work was a tiny office, there had to be a few guys that he knew.

"Does...Is he friends with our friends?"

You nodded. "He's very close."

He had to be missing something. "Fine, gimme a hint."

"Well," you began, smile stretching to the moon, "he's very clever. He'd like this game, I think. He likes to laugh, but he can be quite serious too." Ignoring the fact that you'd given him two hints, Steven's heart wilted as he noticed the starry look in your eyes. Whoever this guy was, he was a lucky chap.

Marc was miserable, gloominess radiating. Steven felt awful, he hadn't meant for this to go so poorly. Just get through the questions, Marc grumbled.

"Where does he work?"

You tapped your chin. "Well...he's got two jobs."

His eyebrows raised. "Busy fella, huh?"

"Yeah." Your lips quirked. "Almost seems like he's two people."

"What's his jobs, then?"

"Let's see...it's very unconventional," you said slowly, a cute smile on your face, "Sorta self-employed."

Steven cocked his head at the confusing answer. Self employed? That's not really a second job. Marc shrugged. We're kinda self employed, so it could be.

It was strange how many similarities he found between himself and this mystery man.

"I'll give you a hint," you said after the moment dragged. Steven vehemently shook his head.

"No, I've got it, swear."

You giggled. "it won't count, promise. He's got a pet fish."

Steven threw up his hands in exasperation. "How've I never met this man?! We sound almost identical, I'm sure I'd remember him!"

You were bent over laughing now. He sat there, bewildered, while Marc watched with growing understanding.

Steven, he hissed. Steven, hang on.

Stop being a spoilsport, I know you're mad, Steven retorted, too invested in the game.

"Marc's met him," you said between fits, tears streaking your cheeks. Marc opened his mouth again but Steven waved him away.

"Nuh uh, I can do this," he said determinedly. STEVEN! Marc was shouting now, thumping his hands in vain.

You'd stopped laughing, grinning like a loon while you waited. He'd get it now, surely, you hoped, the fading laughter revealing your anxiety.

Steven had short-circuited, eyes flicking around like a pinball machine.

"You're clever," you murmured, "you'll get it."

He snapped out of it and raked a hand through his messy curls. "Hang on, hang on, what? This doesn't- how can he be friends with our friends when the only man friend you've got is me?" He was genuinely perplexed, triggering a sympathetic smile from you.

Marc was in fits now, and Steven was getting a headache. Oi, Marc, chill out a bit, yeah? I'm trying to-

Steven for once in your life listen this is important oh my God-

"What?" he relented, mouthing sorry at you. Marc heaved a breath and closed his eyes.

You. Us. Steven, it's so obvious.

Steven rolled his eyes. "Me? You've lost it, mate, really, you've gone mad."

He froze, clapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh my days, sorry, I didn't mean to guess so soon, sorry-"

You did nothing but grin, leaning closer. "Clever boy," you whispered, then pressed your lips to his.

Marc fainted.

Steven, sweet man, had frozen, too preoccupied with his internal screaming do understand what was happening.

Oh.

oh.

His hands found their way to your cheeks and he giggled, the sweet sound muffled against your lips. It was clunky and off-centered, but it was real and he was laughing and every insecurity he'd ever had vanished in a puff of smoke.

You pulled back for a breath, but Steven hadn't finished, chasing after you with a huff. Marc, finally back online, was sitting in a lovesick stupor. Your lips were soft and your hands were rubbing soothingly down his back. A quiet solitude had blanketed the flat, now dark. Steven leaned his head on your shoulder and you hugged him tight, smiling into his neck. The two of you breathed together, winding down from the excitement of your game.

Once you'd sufficiently relaxed, you pulled away and were met with Marc's twinkling gaze.

"Y'know, I was the one that gave Steven the head's up, so I think I-"

"C'mere you," You huffed, peppering his cheeks in light pecks. He preened, taking a heavy sigh of relief. Marc leaned in and captured your lips, licking gently into your mouth. He'd definitely had more practice, and your heart sang with joy.

Game over, plates empty and hearts full, you curled up and watched the rain pitter-patter in the warm comfort of your home.

yes i think steven loves james bond. he is the type to try and figure out the mystery along with the movie. also 100% knows all cinema trivia Ever To Exist. Marc hates it.

xox thank uuuu

part 2

[scaredcrab]

Coffee Shop II (drabble)

Character: ☾ Macaque x Reader ☽

✐ Summary: You work at this café. Suddenly, there's a monkey there!

✐ Category: Cute. Romantic. Funny.

Since you guys loved the Wukong one, I thought the other monkey man also deserved his own coffee shop text. ★ ☆

Link to Wukong version: Here.

-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-✐-☾-

☆ That's how it all started: Sun no longer visible, everything covered with shadows, courtesy of the dark gray clouds that embraced the horizon with their humidity, a sky ready to cry.

☆ A ring it's heard coming from the front door, revealing him in a wet cloak. Macaque walks in his human form towards you, leaving a dripping trail as he approaches.

☆ "May I have a warm drink, please?"

You looked at him and waited,

And waited,

Waited until the warrior himself got annoyed and gave you an irritated look.

"Did you have an issue with me, you-…?" - You raise one finger to his mouth to shut him.

"Which warm drink? You need to be more specific than that."

☆ He slaps the finger from his mouth, and gritted his teeth, all of this while slamming one of his hands in the counter you were standing.

☆ A sigh followed by a roll of your eyes was all you had to him. Soon you turned your back to the simian, leaving the cashier area.

☆ "Wha... What about my drink?"

"Ask for something specific and I will get it. If you're here just for shelter from the rain, you can just stay, but I'm not going to guess your order."

☆ Oh, of course, he would be specific. He would be the most specific as possible, a special treatment just for you. As you got back, he had a giant grin in his face...

...

☆ Different from what he expected, you continued unbothered while writing a super complicated order.

"A large cup with half soy milk and half goat milk, a bit of decaf coffee, 6 pumps of vanilla, 6 pumps of classic syrup, and 69 pumps of sugar free caramel syrup. All with hot milk, warm decaf coffee, cinnamon sprinkled on top, whipped cream and purple sprinkles. May I offer something to eat alongside the drink?"

How did you even understand all of this when he said as fast as he could?

☆ The warrior felt challenged. It was the dumbest task he could ever accept, but he wanted said mission.

☆ Showing up at your workplace to try to annoy you with the craziest requests became routine for the monkey.

☆ You never seemed to mind (actually enjoying the daily share of laughs when the order ended up being a shit for all the originality of different ingredients combined), and had an amazing ability to always understand these orders.

☆ Even with you always getting the orders right, your never got his name right. It would always be spelled wrong in the cups, creating a new funny nickname with each visit.

"Here is your drink and your mango mousse, mister Mah-cake."

☆ He never got to earn a good reaction, no matter how insane his requests would be. It was always you laughing at him drinking a new special combination, never him getting the fun.

This until he learned a trick.

☆ "Here's your order." - It was quickly placed on the table, practically slapped there, you turned away, without caring who you were serving.

Instead of getting mad at this, Macaque just lazily teased you, "Are you nervous, sweetie?~ Want me to hold your hands in mine?"

☆ While you shifted in place to go away, he didn't catch the vision of your face fast enough, but he could hear what he has done to you.

A little squeak of surprise, so subtle that no mortal hearing would catch it, and the heartbeat accelerating. That changed the whole dynamic.

☆ From that day on he started to dedicate himself to saying things that made you blush instead of trying to exaggerate the requests.

☆ Shameless flirting, compliments on appearance, the occasional gentle touch on your hand as you slid the order across the table for him. Each gesture accompanied by the most velvety voice he could muster.

☆ "Uh... Could you repeat the order, please?" - A blush so strong filled your head to the point that even your ears turned red.

"Pardon me, what did you just say now?"

☆ Of course, the Six Eared Macaque heard what you said, but he wanted to hear again. You finally didn't understand an order, and it wasn't because of how hard it was to get it, it was for the fact that he managed to make you unable to concentrate.

☆ His eyes got wrapped in the satisfying view of you shaking lightly, with eyes that darted from the ground to his lips while weakly mumbling "I got distracted".

☆ As the days passed he felt more pleasure in seeing you like this, and with all that passing of time he felt more and more the desire to always see you. It was fact that he caught some feelings.

☆ Despite your insecurities, you started to flirt back, in your own way. His favorite table was always reserved for him, sometimes his order would come with extra desserts, and occasionally a napkin would appear in his stuff with a written question asking his favorites musics, the answer would define the soundtrack for the café on that day.

☆ "Look, I'm really liking all those special favors, but when are you going to make a move on me?"

The face hid behind a tray, pretending not to hear as you left, "H-Have a nice day!"

☆ One day a customer started bothering you. Your service wasn't fast enough in his opinion, and because of that he made sure to mistreat you in public.

☆ To avoid things from getting out of hand, you listened to all with your head down in hope that he would go away after saying everything he wanted to.

But he only left after throwing a cup in your direction, luckily he didn't hurt you much.

☆ Macaque couldn't control himself. Once the man got out of the place, the monkey dragged him to an alley and beat the shit out of him.

"Never bother them again, did you hear me?"

☆ He just didn't count on the fact that the back doors of the cafeteria led to that alley, that you would open the door to throw out the garbage and end up watching the whole fight without him noticing.

☆ "Well, I guess you saw all of that, huh? Are you scared of me now? Are you afraid of demons?" - Macaque pulled his theatrics to make his lil dramatic phrase.

"... Thank you for defending me, Macaque." - You quickly leave a peck at his cheek and run back to the café.

He is left with the sweet sensation of victory.

☆ Macaque's regular visits continue, and after gathering your courage, you finally call the demon to go out and soon after you two starts dating.

[bamsara]

20: "How long did you think that you could hide that?"

Sun Centric | Wordcount: 1,338 | AO3 Version

I pulled another Solar Lunacy bullet draft out for this prompt, so this is more of a SL crumb than it is a stand-alone drabble. Expect to see this scene again in SL, but maybe written better (and a different beginning and ending, some details more fitting, ect)

To be fair, you had done an excellent job hiding the limp you had so far.

It happened this morning. Routine schedule with a list of tasks and chores that required a cleaning cart's assistance to lug around all the tools and trash, except you got your wheel caught in the small gap at the entrance of the elevator, and your attempt to free it consisted of you pulling and pushing and praying to whatever was out there to dislodge the damn thing while profusly apologizing to the Pizzaplex goers behind you waiting impatiently for use of the elevator while you struggle.

Eventually, you get it dislodged. Yay! Unfortunatly, you twist your ankle when it pops out and you have to do some sort of ninja type of move to prevent from accidently being rolled over on. Only, you were a terrible acrobat, and now your ankle was throbbing and you didn't even have ibeprofen to help with it.

So! Power through it. You'll ice it when you get home. These paychecks won't earn themselves.

You don't allow yourself to limp because you don't want to get any stares or complaints from the families roaming the pizzaplex, or have any of the animatronics send you a concerned look (which makes you act particularly casual when Freddy comes around to say hi. The last thing you want to do is have the busy bear worry about you.) which means you're gritting your teeth and blowing air through your nose, but faking it until you make it seems to work.

That is, until you arrive at the daycare.

You bring a cart full of diapers, wipes and other important items for stock, the heavy lifting the last chore for the day but the one you were dreading the most. Sun greets you at the door, and behind him is a chorus of small voices that yell out greetings to you as soon as you walk in.

Friendly bunch, they are. You're glad the Daycare Attendant has his hands busy with the kids, so if you needed to lean on the desk for a moment, you probably wouldn't look suspisious. Rolling the cart in, you wave to the gaggle of children that sitting on the floor, gathered for story time probably, before wheeling the cart towards the shelves-

Metal hands come around your shoulders, stopping you in place. "My, my! You've brought us so many presents!"

You crane your head back. Sun's smile beams down at you, and you smile back. "Yeah! Hope you like diapers."

"I sure do! Keeps all the messy bits easy for quick cleaning." He jests, and as if on cue a couple of children give a very cute 'eewwwwww' in the background as you snort. Sun's head rotates completely, in full-jester mode. "Oh, you'll be joining us for story time, won't you? Won't you?"

You wave him off, forcing your face to remain plain and chipper despite the pain that was swelling up your leg at the moment. "Sorry, no can do. I gotta get these boxes sorted first-"

"Oh, but I think you can, and you will!" Suddenly, the hands on your shoulders are gripping a little bit tighter. You are all but guided (more like half-dragged) to where the gaggle of children are sitting in a circle and plopped in the middle. "In fact, you should take over! I've been telling the same fairy tales, all princesses and monsters and bears and rabbits-" Sun pats you on the back, non-chalant. "Why don't you tell a story, something new? I'm sure you have it in you friend."

As nice as it was to be sitting down on the mat where there wasn't a weight constant on your ankle, the several pairs of wide anticipating eyes of children was a little unerving. "Uh-"

"Good!" Sun reels back, hands on his hips. In one swift motion, his legs swivel around to start walking towards the cart and boxes, while his head and torso stay facing you and the children. "I'll take care of these gifts! Better this way, I have a very particular way of organizing things you know."

He leaves you there, and now you're stuck entertaining children until he's finished.

...Honestly? Not the worst thing he's done, and there's a sense of reflief since you're not standing anymore, so you'll play right into the game.

You tell the children stories about the horrors of what happens if you don't brush your teeth enough, of a boy that ate so many greens he became the strongest being in the world, of a dog that learned how to play basketball, of aliens that crashed into hawaii and made friends and a family there. Anything you can pull off the topc of your head, really, and lucky enough for you; they were eating the stories out of the palm of your hand.

Sun is quicker than you would have been putting away the boxes, and is at the ready for checkout when some of the first parents arrive to pick up their children. You continue to tell the stories even as your audience dwindles, answering questions when they raise their hands and resisting the urge to laugh when a little boy with glasses too big asks you if Santa Clause was an alien.

Sun finishes the stocking rather quickly, and instead retaking his spot, sits cross legged and joins the circle of children easgly waiting to hear your story. He even goes as far as to lightly clap when you're finished with one, the other children joining in just to mimick him. It's actaully really cute.

The last boy is checked out by his parents. You wave from your spot on the floor mat, not moving because you don't feel like it and uncaring if you looked a little silly to the mother. Sighing, you let relief out of your lungs as Sun closes and locks the Daycare doors behind them.

Sun literally cartwheels back to you, spinning on one heel before plopping down right in front of you. His height makes him tower over you even as you're both sitting down, and you're currently thinking about an excuse to say or mustering up the strength to stand on that leg again.

Sun leans forwards, head resting in his hands and smiling widly. "Looks like you've become quite the favorite around here!"

You return the smile, and move to get up. "Yeah, yeah. Just promote me at this rate and I can take your job all the time-"

A hand clasps around your knee and you wince. The preassure is genlte, not huritng, but heavy enough it forces you back down to the ground where you sit and stare at the Daycare Attendant's grip on your leg, and his thoughtful face as he hums. "And how long did you think you could hide that?"

A tug from your leg to free yourself, his grip doesn't budge. You almost pout. "...hide what?"

Fingers lessen around your pants leg, trail lower down to your ankle and hook underneath the fabric, pushing it up. There's a definate swollenness to your ankle now, more so than the last time you checked. Sun tuts at the sight of it. "This, friend."

Aw rats, you've been caught. "It's fine, I'm not a wuss."

"We never said you were!" Sun gasps, offended. A pause. "Well, I never said you were. Still a terrible idea, though."

Your shrug is half-hearted. "So? I can't exactly slack off, here. I'm already in hot water with managment and bills don't pay themselves."

"You are very lucky I was programmed with much patience!" Sun sounds like a mixture of frusteration, exasperation, and affection. It's a comforting tone of voice, so it doesn't alarm you right away until the animatronic's hands are reaching forwards, hooking underneath your knees and against your lower back before you can protest. "Onwards, to the first aid corner!"

"...Does this mean you've gotten a doctor's license yet?"

"I am not legally required to answer that question!"

[ynscrazylife]

Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist 

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

Read the previous part: Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

“Get the fuck away,” she said against the pattering of the rain, still walking tiredly. She tried to blink to clear off her eyesight, but the rain was getting heavier. She hated the fact that her only choice was to get into the car, or else she would probably be sick until the end of the summer.

The car stopped, and whoever in that car sighed. “I don’t have time, and I won’t leave you alone. Get in.”

“Fuck off,” she said again, feeling her tank top sticking to her body. She felt extremely cold now, not wearing proper clothes or bringing some type of an umbrella.

“Get in,” he sighed again, and when the lightning struck a tree not far from where she was standing, she realised she really didn’t have a choice.

She placed herself into the Range Rover, wetting the seat and the carpet, and she could hear the faint music coming from the radio. She didn’t dare glance at the boy beside him, and he didn’t waste anymore time before hitting the breaks and speeding down the road.

“So you’re stalking me now?”

Rafe laughed, “I won’t call it stalking. Perhaps protecting.”

(Y/N) scoffed, watching the car freshener swaying from the rearview mirror. It was the freshener from before, and (Y/N) wondered if he ever changed It.

“What are you doing at the Chateau?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, slightly shivering from the rain before. “Why? Are you mad?”

He stayed shut, his eyes focusing on the road, and (Y/N) crossed her arms again.

“I saw you kissed him.”

“Of course,” she laughed shrilly, not looking at him. “What else did you see? Did you stalk me in New York too?”

He shrugged, “Should’ve.”

“Fucking psycho,” she muttered under her breath. “Now what? You’re going to kill me like you murdered that sheriff?”

She watched as Rafe’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his eyes staring straight at the road. For a second she was afraid of him, but knew he would never hurt her, not when he loved her a bit too much.

“I fucking hate you,” she spat, crossing her arms. “And I wish I’ve never met you.”

“Say that again, and I’ll fucking kill you,” he breathed, and (Y/N) gritted her teeth. She watched him from the corners of her eyes, his fingers still etched onto the steering wheel, his face contorted in anger.

“You should be in jail,” she said again, and she didn’t know why she wouldn’t just shut up. She guessed she was probably tired of being treated like shit, and she wanted to put an end to it.

Rafe accelerated the car, driving straight back to Figure 8, and all those time they didn’t speak, just sitting in the silence as (Y/N) cried, thinking of what she had gotten herself into.

She was covering up for a crime.

If this news ever goes out she would never get a place in college, and all of her future dreams would be ruined.

She jolted out of her thoughts when the car stopped abruptly, and she looked at the view outside. The bold font of ‘Kildare County Sheriff’s Station’ greeted her, and she turned to look at Rafe quickly.

“What the fuck are we doing here?” She grunted, her heart beating wildly.

“Go. You’re done covering up for me? Go. Go and fucking tell them that Rafe Cameron murdered Sheriff Peterkin!” He expressed, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Isn’t that what you fucking want?”

(Y/N) stayed silent, her eyes glassy. The boy in front of her was breathing heavily, and she noticed how different he was from before.

His face had become smaller, and his cheekbones were more apparent. He didn’t slick his hair back anymore and just let them messily part, and his glowing blue eyes were now dark.

She held him in her hands, placing her forehead against his. “I don’t mean it like that, Rafe.”

Rafe closed his eyes, breathing into her scent that he had missed so much, and his hands instantly went up to her hair. He bit his lips, feeling her now, and wished he would never have to part from her again.

“They’re having a hearing for John B,” Rafe said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And they’re calling you for the hearing too.”

She sucked in a breath, knowing this was bound to happen, “Rafe, I-”

“I’m not forcing you to cover up for me,” he whispered, “I get it if you won’t do it anymore. You hate me, and it’s okay. I would do the same.”

The tears were streaming down her face now, and she couldn’t bring herself to wipe them away. She held him close, still caressing his face, and bit her lips to stop a whimper.

“My dad’s going to ask you to cover up for me, and it’s okay if you won’t do it on the day of the hearing,” he continued, and she watched a tear roll down his face. He quickly wiped them away, pulling himself away and sighing before the steering wheel. “I just want you to know that I love you.”

“Rafe,” she sighed. This was exactly the problem; seeing him so weak under her, and she wanted nothing but to stay with him forever.

She held him close as he sobbed onto her lap, running her fingers through his hair.

Would she do it? Would she actually do this?

“I’ll do it,” she said, and Rafe quickly looked up to her, shaking his head. “I’ll do it,” she repeated, her eyes certain.

“You don’t have to,” he said, cupping her face. “Oh, baby, thank you, I love you so much. I love you so much.”

The news about (Y/N) having to stand for the hearing wasn’t accepted well by her parents, and Mr (Y/L/N) argued until the night sky settled in with Ward about how this will affect her college applications, to which Ward promised he would do everything in his will to help her get into the best college in the states.

The hearing was set not until next week, but (Y/N) could already feel the pressure building up in her stomach. It was between justice and Rafe now, and she didn’t know what to choose.

Rafe had been there with her throughout the whole week, just staying in bed with her, hugging her close and never letting go. It was just like their usual Sunday mornings last year, but this wasn’t as peaceful as that.

“I love you,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. (Y/N) shifted, so that she was facing the other way, and she wished she didn’t have to have such a hard time thinking about what she would be saying during the hearing.

All her life, she was told to always tell the truth, especially when there’s somebody falsely accused. But she loved Rafe too much, and she wouldn’t let him go even for a second again.

It was the night before the hearing that Rafe had to leave and see her tomorrow when Mrs (Y/L/N) entered her room, placing herself beside the lump under the blanket.

“Hey, mom,” she said, her voice croaky.

“Hey,” she smiled weakly, placing her hands against her cheeks. (Y/N) leaned into her touch, and wished she was still a little child. “Did Rafe do it?”

“Huh?” She sat up straight, rubbing her eyes. She laughed nervously, “Mom, what are you saying?”

“All I’m saying is,” she sighed, “It’s okay if he did it. You can tell me, (Y/N). I’m always here for you.”

She so badly wanted to tell her mother, to confess about the whole thing and cried against her arms. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to part with Rafe again, and she wouldn’t do it even for a few seconds.

“He didn’t,” she lied, laying her head against the pillow again. “It was John B.”

“Okay,” she nodded, but (Y/N) could feel that she knew all along.

“You must do the right thing, okay?” Was all she said, before she placed another soft kiss against her forehead and left her to cry her heart out until the morning sun appeared.

. . .

(Y/N) glanced at Rafe and his father behind her, and quickly looked back at the judge. She closed her eyes, feeling so shaky, and cleared her throat.

“I was with Rafe, we were just there to send, um, Ward off to the Bahamas. I was, uh, alone with him,” she started, her voice so shaky she felt as if she had just confessed the truth. She cleared her throat again, “We saw, um, Sheriff Peterkin and um, John B, Ward and Sarah.”

“Did Rafe Cameron shoot Sheriff Peterkin?”

It felt like a slap across her face, and she didn’t know what to do. She glanced at John B again, in his orange suit, looking at her with pleading eyes. She looked her parents, determined that she was not guilty, and back to Rafe, who was on the edge of crying.

“(Y/N)? Did Rafe Cameron shoot Sheriff Peterkin?”

(Y/N) thoughts wandered to the first time she and Rafe had sex. It happened in a party, and (Y/N) never regretted her actions on that day. That was only a few days after he had asked her to become his girlfriend, and 4 days away before the murder of the sheriff took place.

“You’re drunk,” she laughed, pushing him onto the sofa before climbing on top of him. This was usual between the two of them, always teasing each other but never really acting on it. But (Y/N) felt different that day, and she wanted the whole him.

“Oh yeah?” He raised a brow from under her, his fingers playing with the hem of her skirt. He turned her over so she was now under him, and she giggled ferociously, closing her eyes. His fingers trailed down to her cheeks, and he bit his lips as she let out a whimper.

He leaned closer, his lips nibbling on her earlobe. She groaned, tugging on his head, “What should we do then?”

“(Y/N), did Rafe shoot Sheriff Peterkin?”

(Y/N) looked up to the judge, her eyes glassy and her lips trembling. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, and voiced out her own version of truth.

“It was John B who shot Sheriff Peterkin.”

The whole crowd went wild, Kie was screaming from the back, and she could hear Ward exclaiming happily, satisfied. She bit her lips, knowing she just committed a crime, and looked at John B.

Rafe went to put his arms around her, whispering an ‘are you okay?’ to which she nodded at, but she was far from okay; she felt like screaming her heart out.

Rafe placed another kiss against the back of her head before reclaiming his seat beside Ward, his body relaxing.

“John Booker Routledge, pursuant to the North Carolina statute section 14, you are charged with murder in the first degree with aggravated circumstances. The maximum sentence would be the death penalty.”

The crowd broke out into chaos again, and (Y/N) had never felt weaker than before. Rafe quickly pulled her up, whispering comforting words into her ear, all while Kie and the other pogues tried to surround her.

“(Y/N), it’s not too late-” JJ tried to reach her, “(Y/N), please. Don’t fucking do this to me! You know the truth!”

“Fucking move,” Rafe muttered, still wrapping his arms around (Y/N) and walking towards the exit. She felt lifeless under his touch, so weak she could feel herself fainting.

She just sent someone to a death penalty.

“Murderer!” Kie yelled, just before Rafe could put her into the car, caressing her hair and letting her drop onto his lap, trembling intensely.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, soothing her hair as the car drove away, and the screams behind her slowly disappeared. “You’re fine.”

He kissed her on her forehead, “Thank you, baby. I love you. I love you so much.”

Her head had never felt more painful, and she could hear a ringing tone thrumming against her eardrums. She tugged on Rafe’s wrist, pulling him close. All in all, she was glad to be back into his arms.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

IUI - The Way I Love You

bear with me here folks

I know the Idiots are usually soft af. but my lovely spouse/fiance/soon-to-be-fiance and beta @dani-dandelino hit me with an idea and I added a dash handful of angst bc i couldn’t help it

Warnings: feelings of inadequacy, fear of breakup (no actual breakup I promise), miscommunication, drunk af Geralt, past shitty relationships, happy ending tho I promise, there’s tears but they’re happy I swear.

______________________________________

Geralt only ever got sloppy drunk when Jaskier was the DD. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust anyone else, it was that he didn’t trust his drunk boyfriend not to goad him into something stupid. 

The last time they’d both gotten fucked up outside of their apartment they woke up with three traffic cones and a “Speed Hump” sign in their living room. When they asked Triss what happened she sent them a video of them giggling as they tried to fit the sign into her trunk.

After hanging the sign in their apartment, they decided it may be best to take turns. 

This particular instance, they’d dropped Triss and Yen off and were on their way home, Geralt’s head lolling against the window as he fought to stay awake. 

“I’m not carrying your perky ass upstairs,” Jaskier laughed, snapping his fingers near Geralt’s ear. 

Geralt grumbled but sat up straight and leaned into Jaskier’s outstretched hand, “Radio.”

Affectionately rolling his eyes, Jaskier pulled his hand away and flipped on the radio. Geralt immediately gasped and started singing along off key and slurred. The first time Jaskier heard Geralt scream along to Taylor Swift he’d been shocked, if extremely endeared. 

“BUT I MISS SCREAMIN’ AND FIGHTIN AND KISSIN IN THE RAIN! IT’S TWO AM AND I’M CURSIN’ YOUR NAME! SO IN LOVE THAT WE ACTED INSANE, AND THAT’S THE WAY I LOVED YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Jaskier turned the volume down to a reasonable level when Geralt cranked it so loud his ears might start ringing. He rolled his eyes when Geralt started singing it to him, taking the shortcut home and trying to ignore the little pit forming in his stomach. 

When the song ended Geralt turned the radio down and picked up his hand not gripping the steering wheel, “Jask?”

“Mhm?”

Even in the car, Geralt glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, “I have a secret.”

Fear flared in Jaskier’s chest but he took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself who he was talking to. His boyfriend thought secrets were fun. Mostly because Geralt’s version of a secret was keeping what he made for dinner a surprise until Jaskier got home. He’d even felt guilty not telling Jaskier he was seeing a therapist when they’d started dating. For all his gruff exterior and suspicion, Geralt really was an open book with those he loved and trusted. Jaskier had a very different idea of what secrets in a relationship meant. 

“What’s that, love?” 

Geralt giggled as he traced the edges of a magnolia on the back of Jaskier’s wrist, “That is the way I love you.”

Luckily for Jaskier’s car, they were rolling up to a stop sign. He had time to loose his breath for a moment and fight back the initial feeling of shame and anger with himself before he pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel as he punched the gas. 

Through gritted teeth, he said the gentlest thing he could think of, “We don’t kiss in the rain.”

Geralt frowned, almost pouted at him, “I still love you.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to scream at Geralt, another part wanted to pull over and make him walk home, thankfully the loudest part reminded him the idiot was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying and he thought he was being sweet. There was also a good possibility he would cry himself to sleep in the passenger seat if Jaskier yelled at him and last time he tried to carry Geralt to bed his back hurt for a week. 

“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed as he pulled into their parking spot. 

He didn’t sleep well that night. Not because his sweaty, smelly, and fidgety boyfriend clung to him in his sleep, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the ride home. 

Jaskier had lived in relationships like that for most of his adult life. Hell, even in his teens. They were nothing but all consuming passion with no connection to support it and left both parties jaded and lost. When he left his mentor he’d sat in Yen’s chair for hours and hours, until his arm had gone numb, and the only thing he could think was ‘never again’. 

And now Geralt thought he was being cute. The ridiculously meticulous and serious man was only ever sappy when he got drunk and now instead of reveling in it like he’d like, Jaskier was staring at the clock on his nightstand calculating how exhausted he’d be in the morning as the minutes ticked by. 

Turns out, he was at least in the land of the living by the time Geralt shuffled into the kitchen with his hands in his hair and a pained expression. 

“Feel like shit.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement as he sipped his morning tea and shifted in his seat to see better out the window. 

After popping a few anti-inflammatories and nibbling on a cracker before giving up on food, Geralt lumbered up behind Jaskier and draped his arms over his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I’m just being… touchy.”

Geralt pressed a light kiss over the hellebore tattoo on Jaskier’s neck, “I doubt it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Jaskier laid his hand over Geralt’s arm across his chest, “I don’t want to lose this.”

“Why…? What makes you think you would?” Geralt was a little slower on the draw hungover, but he knelt next to Jaskier’s chair and rested a hand on his knee as he waited for a response. He only ever looked so worried when Roach had an abscess and it broke Jaskier’s heart. He didn’t want to say it and ruin everything. 

After a deep breath in, he mumbled out his answer, “Do you really love me like that song?”

“What song?” Geralt breathed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s knee.

“The uh, Way I Loved You one.”

Geralt searched his face for a beat, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening, “Of course I do.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he forced all the air from his lungs in the hopes it would do something to stop the tears from falling. When it was clear he would lose the battle he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

“You… don’t want me to?” Geralt sounded close to tears himself, but he didn’t take his hand off Jaskier’s thigh. 

“No- yes! No?” Jaskier sniffed and wiped at his face but didn’t lean back to look at Geralt, “I- Geralt I can’t just fill a hollow relationship with lust. We ha- I thought we had more? But if you want the- the fights and the hate fucking- I don’t- Geralt I don’t want that. Not with anyone but not with you. Ne-”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s arm, gathering him to his chest when the brunette melted into sobs, “I don’t want that. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I let you think that.” He cradled Jaskier’s head to his shoulder, pressing kisses into his hair between softly spoken apologies and reassurances. They stayed there until Jaskier’s tea went cold and his sobs were closer to little gasps. 

Eventually, Jaskier lifted his head and met Geralt’s eyes, “H-how do you love me?”

Geralt licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not- It’s not hollow.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, “Please?”

One of Geralt’s hands came up to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he took a deep breath, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you… I never wanted to be romantic with anyone until you. You… You make me feel… safe. I’m never bored of you or numb or sick of you. This is the first relationship I’ve had where I bother to fight, Jask. I love you so much it makes me do things I never thought to do and I’m glad and I never want to change anything about us. Never.” 

A shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine as relief flooded his whole body. His throat ached from crying and his shoulders were sore from holding all that tension in a way they hadn’t for years, but he’d never felt so good. Geralt loved him. Him. Not some tumultuous relationship or the sex or the drama of it all. Someone finally loved him for him. 

It hadn’t really hit Jaskier till then. They’d said ‘I love you’, sure, but he hadn’t really believed Geralt, just like he’d stopped believing the string of selfish lovers before him. 

“Thank Mellitelle,” Jaskier laughed, just on this side of hysterical as he tightened his grip around Geralt’s shoulders, “I fucking love how boring we are. And you. Fuck I really really do love you.”

“Even when I smell like my regulars?” Geralt teased, intentionally huffing a little extra and dosing Jaskier in his horrendous hangover morning breath.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose but smiled and kissed him anyway, “Of course.”

“Mhh,” Geralt pulled away for a moment, brushing his thumb over Jaskier’s crows feet in a silent request for him to open his eyes, “Can we go back to bed?”

“The crying does it for you, huh?” Jaskier chuckled, his voice was still weak but his laugh was genuine.

“I’m so dizzy, Jask,” squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slightly, Geralt plopped back onto his heels. If Jaskier hadn’t witnessed just how much he drank he’d say he was lying, but Jaskier was truly surprised he’d even climbed out of bed this morning.

“Mkay, up. Back to bed then.”

They settled under the blankets and tangled themselves back together. Geralt hummed, closing his eyes and squeezing Jaskier a little tighter.

New, happier tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he pushed them down, opting to trace the corner of Geralt’s buttercup tattoo peeking out of his shirt, “I love you.”

Geralt took a deep breath in before he sighed out a rumbling, “I know.”

“No, Geralt. Really,” Jaskier laid his hand over the yellow and green ink, “I’ve said these words more times than I can count but I don’t think I ever really understood them until you.”

“Jaski-”

“I love you,” Jaskier’s interruption was far smaller and far more fragile than he had intended. His words just continued to spill out, “You’re steady and calm and I’ve never had that. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like and I’m constantly scared I’m gonna fuck it up…”

Comforting fingers ran through his hair as Geralt murmured his reply, “Me too,” Jaskier just squeezed his shoulder in a bit of solidarity and a bit of selfish comfort, “But I think we’re doing alright…”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Geralt started, shifting so he was practically engulfing Jaskier, “we both still love each other, and...” his boyfriend pinched him when he trailed off, pretending to fall asleep in a way that always mad Jaskier giggle, “Ow- and you use the hooks by the front door.” 

“I do, don’t I?” Jaskier sniffled, “And you used your words.”

“I’d use all the words for you.”

“All of them?”

Geralt really was drifting away this time, his words coming slowly as his arms relaxed and Jaskier felt their full weight over him, “Not well, but I would...” 

[honeypirate]

Can you do Benimaru x reader ?Hmm, the reader is training with him then she gets injured,and after taking care of her,he confessed to her ? sorry if this is too much,your writing is amazing ✨

OMG I loved this!! Thank you for sending it in!

I hope you like this!

Benimaru x fem!reader

(In this fic, if a third gen grows stronger it changes the eyes.(In the show the fifth pillar had her eyes changed when she got her ignition abilities, but I wanted to twist it) Other than that I have little idea of how the eyes change)

Little editing

Little swearing

Little drinking but reader is same age as Waka

In this moment you regretted asking your friend for training.

You had trained with him every day for the past four days, he was to help you strengthen your abilities so you could become a better third generation before sending you back to your company, the eighth.

What he was doing was annoying you and pissing you off. You would have hated him if he acted like this the whole time, outside of training he was sweet and funny, but damn, he could be tough. Sure you like it but it was almost the end of your training for the day, couldn't he see you were nearing your limit? Maybe you’re holding it together better than you thought.

Which was confirmed when the next words left his mouth “I know you can do better. I saw you do better yesterday in fact” his voice sent anger throughout your veins, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes for just a second, grounding yourself so you don't lash out at the annoying, ridiculous, strange, interesting handsome, sexy.... You grit your teeth and your eyes fly open, cutting off your thoughts as you tried to use your flames again. Come on, you think, i can push myself, just a little more

He was about to speak but you heard his mouth shut as you moved your arms out in front of you, feeling the flame in your veins travel down the inside of your arm and around your wrist, flowing down each finger to the tip before swirling down and pooling in your palms. You tighten the circle of bright warmth, growing smaller and smaller, until you begin to make your own version of a sun wheel. You twist your hands, the fire staying in the air as you make a circle, when you connect the ends together it erupts into tiny explosions of stars that twist around each other.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed with this display. He watched as you sent your attack forward, the strongest he’s witnessed from you. “Now do it again” he says and you turn to speak your mind but he takes one look at your face and hops down from the porch and quickly comes toward you, causing you to take a step back and tense your stance

“your eyes have changed. You are getting stronger” you can't look away from his eyes even if you wanted to, the anger you had felt for him had dissipated with his proximity. “What do you mean? What do they look like?” he points to your left “that one, is like mine, an X, except green. Your other is green with a pink heart” you hum softly, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, he leans down and your breath hitches, until he whispers “now do it again”

you feel your annoyance and your anger boil in your veins again as you huff, turning towards the training ground. You gather all your annoyance and anger, the last energy you had, sending it all to your palms as you feel the familiar swirl of flame and as you make your circle. Your hands shake, your breathing hard pants as the oxygen doesn’t come. You feel your flames sputter and when your circle connects the ends,, the stars that erupt fly back at your fingertips making you scream out as the flame turns to smoke.

You cradle your hands to your chest as he appears next to you “let me see” he commands, his voice strained with worry. You slowly hold out your hands, the tips of your fingers smoking and the skin singed in a few places on almost every finger. “Come with me” he says through his teeth and you can’t tell if he is mad at you. You nod and follow him into the guard house, your fingers leaving smoke behind you with every step, chewing your lip in worry.

He takes you into the medical room and gestures for you to kneel with him. He holds out his hand and you sigh as you hold them out in front of you, the sunlight through the window hitting them and illuminating the several black dots that are still smoking.

He doesn’t say anything while he cleans up your hands, his eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry” you whisper “I messed up” he shakes his head to the side once but doesn’t speak until he’s done bandaging your hands. The only sound being your hiss of breath every time his gentle fingers brush a healing ointment over your wounds or the touch of bandages.

“You’ll be okay, just overheated and you should heal up fine.” His voice is gruff and he won’t look you in the eye “I'm so sorry. I pushed you too hard. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I should have known. I should have seen the signs. I can’t believe I made you hurt your beautiful hands. I’m so sorry” his voice cracks in the last word and you reach out, but he stands quickly and leaves you in the middle of the room.

A few hours later you try to catch his eye during dinner but he avoids you, talking to Konro beside him and not even facing your direction. You give up trying to talk to him and fill your glass with wine, downing it and then grabbing the bottle and leaving the table quietly. Your heart is too sad to even stay there, trying to talk to the man you had started to get feelings for but having him avoid you was terrible, it felt like it was your heart he was cutting up on his plate.

“What are you doing Waka?” Konro asks with a sigh, watching you leave the room with the bottle clutched to your chest, your hands not touching it all. “What do you mean?” he asks and takes a bite, hoping the food will sate some of the acid currently burning his stomach. “I mean, you’re avoiding her, and she's been trying to get you to look at her all evening. What did you do and why are you avoiding her?”

Benimaru sighs, looking around the nearly empty room before turning towards Konro “I pushed her too hard. She hurt herself. It was my fault and I can't seem to bear looking at her knowing I am the one who hurt her” Konro furrows his eyebrows “have you asked her how she feels? Have you talked to her at all? ” Benimaru looks at his hands “I uh..“ Konro nods “Waka, stop acting like a child. She’s a grown woman, treat her like one.” his eyes widen before he stands and leaves the table. Konro was right, he was acting like a child, he needed to treat you like the strong woman he knows you are, and be the man he is and talk to you.

You find your way back to the medical room, grabbing some more bandages and then making your way up to the roof. You sigh as you sit at the edge of the roof, dangling your feet over the edge. You unwrap your hands, the semi-dirty bandages unraveling from your fingers, and wince when the cool air touches your burns. Pulling out the roll of gauze you start to redress your fingers, but they shake too much to do it properly.

“Damn” you whisper as the gauze falls from your fingers for the upteenth time, this time falling from the roof all together. Your fingers just didn't want to cooperate with you, so you sighed again, the heaviness in your heart growing as you turn your attention to the sky, the moon full and bright; unlike your heart.

“You dropped something” you laugh in jest “I've dropped a lot of things recently Waka, the ball, my goddamn heart, that one wasn’t on purpose though. Kinda blindsided me actually” you ramble, taking a drink from the bottle as he sits next to you, your hand throbbing against the cool glass.

He takes the bottle from you and takes a drink before setting it farther behind him so it wont roll off the roof. He holds his hand out towards you and you sigh before shoving your wrist against his palm, your fingers shaking as you avoid his eye contact.

“I meant the gauze” he says and you chuckle dryly, a embarrassed about your outburst as you mutter “oops.” His hands shake slightly as he wraps your fingers, but they were as gentle as they were before. The cover of the bandages feels better against your burns, no exposed sensitive skin. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your palm that sobers you up (you had like 2 glasses so you wouldn't even be drunk or even too buzzed by now, a long time has gone by and you ate a big dinner) he places your hand down against his thigh and holds out his hand for your other, which you place much gentler against his palm this time.

When he finishes he places another soft kiss to your fingers and you move your hand up to his cheek tilting his face up so he looks you in the eye “Benimaru. I don’t blame you. Sure you did push me, but I was too angry, I should have realized I went too far already. You know I like a little tough love to push me so I get stronger” You watch the corners of his mouth twitch into an almost smile as his eyes flick between both of yours

“Thank you,” you whispered, your hand still resting against his cheek, your bandages tickling his skin “thank you for patching me up. For taking care of me still.” you close your eyes and lean your head against his shoulder “Please don't avoid me anymore” your voice was sad and it made his heart crack. He stares into the sky for a few seconds, putting his thoughts in order, before he reaches out, one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head as he pulls you up into his embrace and moves you both a little farther from the edge of the roof.

“Don’t go back to the eighth. Stay in the seventh.” he whispers, “I want you to stay” his cheek was against the top of your head as he held you gently to his chest,. “What.. like just as a subordinate who works with you?” He chuckles and it shakes you gently, “no, not just a subordinate.I dont usually hold my subordinates like this and I don't gain feelings for them. You have never been a subordinate to me. You’re intriguing to me. Captivating.” your heart beats races, your cheeks feeling warm as your spine tingles excitedly.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you. Konro talked some sense into me. I need you to know that I really adore you. I don’t want you to leave. I have been dreading the end of this week” you pull back and kiss his cheek softly before you part from his embrace so you could look in his eyes “I’ve been dreading leaving you.” your voice was as quiet as his, the only one listening was the moon and stars above, “You’re strong, you have a good heart, and when you’re not pushing me with training,” you smile when he chuckles “you make me laugh, and you make me happy” your cheeks are flushed from your expressions of feelings and from his soft gaze. “Can I stay with you?”

He leans forward, kissing the blush on both of your cheeks. “Please” he says, his voice sending tingles down your spine before his lips connect with yours for the first time. Your eyes flutter closed as his soft lips touch yours, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your hands rest against his neck. When he pulls back the cool air sends a shiver down your spine and he smiles “we should go inside, it’s getting late and cold.” He runs his fingers softly through your hair “Plus we should talk to Obi tomorrow since you’re going to stay”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 13: On Your Left

Summary: Steve and Katie meet a new friend whilst out jogging, and Steve is sent on a mission to rescue a ship- the Lemurian Star…but it fast becomes apparent that not everyone on his team is pulling in the same direction.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: We jump forward a couple of months here and slip straight into the Winter Soldier storyline. Credit to @angrybirdcr​ for another lovely edit, and this re-post contains additional materiel- I’ve written the mission out instead of merely skipping over it.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 12 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

 End of March/Beginning of April 2014

“Turn it off,” Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into as the alarm rang around the dark bedroom. Steve moved slightly to turn it off, but he wasn’t fast enough for his Girlfriend’s liking. “Steve!”

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” She grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here.” Steve teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for five days, I never sleep as well when you’re not here.” She mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you.” His arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk.” She grumbled. “I mean what time is it anyway?” There was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions…” “Big girl? You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah, you’re huge.” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous.”

“Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time.”

“Stop being a fucking brat!” Steve laughed and she huffed out breath again.

“I’m not being a brat, it’s just a stupid time to be getting up.”

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her. 

Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“Okay, if you want to actually get up now…” She muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it.  “I suggest you stop.” “I hit the snooze button.” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about eight minutes left.”

“Eight minutes? You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Katie replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Steve said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth. 

“Easy, Baby.” He whispered, his mouth returning to her neck.

Four minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, two shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his best time by a full sixty seconds. And sixty seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another sixty minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie half an hour minutes to locate her running shoes which she’d eventually found in her car.  Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy. 

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the seven blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“Six.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “That’s like what? Twenty miles?”

“Nearer twenty-two.” He grinned.  “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” “You bitch like a 14 year old girl.” Katie lamented, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring three times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She’d given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi.” A voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!”  Katie smiled.

“You normally run this early?” He asked “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” She smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

She took it and gave it a shake. “Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an “On your left.” as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

“I never tire of looking at these.” She commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. “On your left.”

“On your left.”

“Uh-huh. On my left. I got it.” Sam called after him as he entered his fifth lap.

Katie didn’t even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam’s face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!”

“On your left.”

“Come on!” Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

“Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…” Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

“Need a medic?” he teased.

“I need a new set of lungs.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Guess I got a late start.” He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He scolded jokingly. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

“What unit were you with?” Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

“Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.” He said motioning for help up.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

“I kind of put that together.” Sam said as he tried to catch his balance. “Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help.” He smiled, looking at Katie who grinned back. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It’s your bed right?” Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. “What’s that?”

“Your bed, it’s too soft.” Sam went on to explain. “When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I’m back home, in my own bed, feels like-”

Steve cut him off. “Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I’m gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?” He asked Sam

“Two tours.” Sam responded. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that’s good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand. “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna’ catch up.”

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Troubleman’ soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album.”

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, “I’ll put it on the list.”

“We can download it later.” Katie offered. Steve smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)’

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

“Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that’s what you wanna call running.” He joked extending his hand.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

“That’s how it is.” Steve responded, laughing slightly.

“Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

“Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.” She quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

“That’s hilarious.” He commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.” She instructed as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

“How you doing?” Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

“Hey.” She responded with a small smile.

“Can’t run everywhere.” Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

“No you can’t.” Sam chuckled and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” He teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

Sam insisted on paying, despite Katie’s protests and they took their coffees over to a bench, sitting down in the early morning sun. As they talked, Katie fast realised she really liked this man, and he was pretty damned interesting too. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing they had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone eight. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year. 

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn’t too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

 “The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star.” Rumlow spoke, moving images along a screen as they all stood watching as the jet flew over the Indian ocean. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“A billion and a half.”

“Why so steep?” Steve asked, frowning. That wasn’t so much steep as fucking vertical.

“Because it SHIELD’s.” Rumlow replied and Steve took a deep breath.

“So it’s not off-course, its trespassing.” He said exasperatedly, turning to his left and looking at Natasha.

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” She met his eyes, her face not faltering for a second.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.” Steve raised his eyebrows as she looked back at the screen.

“Relax.” She drawled. “It’s not that complicated”

“How many pirates?” Steve looked back at Rumlow.

“Twenty-five.” he replied, once more swiping at the screen. “Top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc” he pulled up a photo of Batroc on the monitor. “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve pressed.

“Uh…mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” Rumlow flashed up Sitwell’s photo and Steve shifted slightly “They’re in the galley.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” He queried, an air of frustration in his tone as he pulled on his gloves before he took a breath and issued his instructions without waiting for an answer. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep up after, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow nodded to his team and they all began to bustle around the jet.

Steve moved towards the back, checking his ear piece, raising his wrist communicator to his mouth. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure.” Nat picked up a few more bits of equipment from the shelves, passing a coms device to Evans as Steve walked behind her to the ramp. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, seeing as all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, I had to settle for a movie and pizza with my girl.” He shrugged as he fit his ear piece, a smile tugging at his face. “Yeah, it was fun.”

Natasha grinned and Evans gave a chuckle as the pilot spoke into his ear. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

Steve punched the button to lower the ramp before he grabbed his helmet.

“You know, I think it’s cute. You’re like a regular, normal couple.”  Evans said, and Steve turned to him as he fastened the straps on his helmet.

“That’s because we are normal.” He replied, a little louder as the noise of the air blowing through the ramp surrounded them. Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto his back, the irony of his statement making him smile even more as he walked towards the end of the ramp.

“Yeah, because most people do this type of stuff for a living.” Natasha shot after him and he turned to face her, smirking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t get boring.” He grinned, before he threw himself off the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins turned to Rumlow who gave a huff of a smile.

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

Steve held his arms and hands out to the side of himself as he was free falling through the air, before he shifted, straightening his legs out below him and crossing his arms over his chest. He speared straight into the ice cold water below and, after a moment to adjust, he started swimming toward the ship, using the anchor chain to climb up onto the deck. He dropped silently over the railings and grabbed the guard who had walked past seconds before in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious as noiselessly as he could. Then he set off at a sprint and it wasn’t long before he encountered two more of the pirates. Using his shield he hit the first one and took him down then sent the vibranium weapon flying once more where it ricocheted off the hull of the boat and took down the second. He caught it and continued running around the side of the deck where he encountered another three. The first one he dispatched with a harsh kick, taking the others down with a quick leg swipe and a harsh punch to the face. The next one he saw wasn’t looking so Steve sped up and used his momentum to shoulder barge him over the side of the ship, before he launched at the next one, taking him down with a swinging choke hold. The one after had a knife, which was slightly more inconvenient, but Steve managed to disarm him and used the dagger he now had possession of to pin one of the other guards hands to the wall as he was reaching up to hit the alarm button, before knocking him out with a kick to the head.

That was how it went for the most of it. Steve ran the entire deck, taking everyone down using his shield, arms, legs, body, any means he had before anyone could raise the alarm. And he was almost home and dry, until he dispatched of what he thought was the final merc, until as he caught his shield, he heard the click of a gun right behind his head.

“Bouge pas!” The man spoke and Steve tilted his head slightly to glance at the man in his peripheral, understanding the words to mean don’t move. So he didn’t, especially not as he had just spotted Rumlow drifting down towards the deck. The STRIKE leader shot at the pirate, taking him down and landed a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded to him.

“Yeah. You seemed pretty helpless without me.” Rumlow joked and Steve turned to see Natasha and Evans parachute down onto the deck to join them.

“So you know you said before about things not getting boring?” Natasha asked as they strode across the deck, Steve slinging his shield onto his back. “If you ever need any tips on how to keep it from getting boring in the bedroom, just ask.”

Steve shook his head and let out a groan.

“When you gonna ask her to move in with you?” Nat continued.

“Secure the engine room, then we can talk about my sex life and living arrangements.” Steve deadpanned back

“I’m multitasking” Nat sing-songed as she effortlessly hopped over a set of railings, disappearing onto the lower part of the deck.

Steve set off at a run, vaulting up a few steps, using railings to swing himself onto the higher level of the ship before he stopped just below the bridge, shooting one of Lawson’s listening devices at the windows. He listened in as Batroc instructed his men to fire the engines and then Steve retreated to a spot where he could see Batroc clearly through the window of the control bridge. Crouching down he continued to listen into their conversation, easily able to understand the French they were speaking, one of his many skills picked up in the war. It had come easy post the serum, as with everything it had enhanced his ability to memorise and grasp things like that.

Batroc was being informed by one of his officers about the radio silence from SHIELD and Steve watched carefully before Evans’ voice cut across the jabbers of French.

“Targets acquired”

“STRIKE in position” Rumlow replied.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” Steve whispered into his wrist coms, but there was no reply. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She said loudly, and Steve waited as he heard a bit of a struggle before she spoke again twenty or so seconds later. “Engine room secure.”

That was it, they were clear to engage.

“On my mark” Steve whispered “Three. Two. One.”

With that he set off running towards the bridge, leaping up a small set off steps before he flung his shield through the window. He jumped in after it and Batroc caught him with a kick to the chest before sprinting off and kicking his way out of the door. Steve jumped up, wrenched his shield from where it had been wedged in the metal panels at the back of the control room and ran after him.

“Hostages on route to extraction.” Rumlow informed as Steve emerged onto the end of a set of steps. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap.” The STRIKE leader continued as Steve jumped down onto the main area of the deck. “Hostiles are still in play.”

Steve looked around before he turned on his heels and started walking “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move.” He instructed quietly into his coms. “Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

There was no reply, and Steve was starting to get pissed off at her radio silence.

“Natasha!”

But then, out of nowhere Batroc flew at him with another harsh kick which sent Steve flying, and no sooner had he righted himself, there came another. The two engaged, toe to toe, fists flying, legs kicking, arms blocking and Steve had to hand it to Batroc, even after he knocked him down with his shield, the man was quickly back on his feet. Steve aimed a knee to his gut and flipped him backwards only to see Batroc effortlessly fling himself into several back flips before landing on his feet a short distance away, smirking as he eyed Steve up.

“Je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier.” He chuckled slightly and Steve cocked his head to one side, chewing over the man’s words… I thought that you were more than just a shield.

The arrogance in Steve won out and he straightened up out of his attack stance. You wanna go, fucker? Fine. Let’s dance.

He took a breath, stashing his shield on the harness round his back, and undid his chin strap, pulling his helmet off. “On va voir.” He said simply, tossing it to the floor, his eyes not once leaving Batroc’s who gave a huge grin.

They dodged for a second or two before they began to fight once more, trading punches, kicks and a few more knees to the gut before Steve threw himself up into the air, twirling his body round into a huge over-head kick, connecting his boot straight with Batroc’s head. Batroc fell to the floor and soon staggered back to his feet, but Steve didn’t give him chance to recover properly. He ran at him, spearing them both through a door, and sitting up slighting, Steve knocked Batroc out with a huge punch to the head.

He took a moment to draw his breath when a voice rang out across the room.

“Well, this is awkward.”

He looked up to see Natasha smirking at him from where she was bent over a computer.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded as he rose to his feet.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into.”  She retorted.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, happy Batroc was still out cold, before he strode purposefully towards her.

“Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?” He drew up behind her and glanced at the screens. As it registered what she was doing he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re saving SHIELD Intel.”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.” She drawled, still tapping at the computer as she looked at him, before turning back to the screen.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.” Steve glared at her.

“No. That’s your mission.” Natasha corrected as she finished what she was doing and pulled the pen drive out of the slot. She turned towards him and smiled causing Steve’s anger to bubble even more. “And you’ve done it beautifully.” Her tone was almost patronising as she smirked, moving to pass him.

At that, Steve felt his temper snap and he grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“I think that’s overstating things.” Natasha stated calmly but before Steve had time to reply a movement caught his attention. Batroc stood up and threw a grenade at the two of them as he ran off. Steve deflected the bomb with his shield before he grabbed Natasha round the waist and hopped up onto the desks. Jumping to another one, Natasha shot out one of the glass windows into an internal office and they dived in just as the bomb exploded.

Smoke, ash and debris rained down on them and Steve gave it a second before he looked over his shoulder and out before sitting back down to take a moment. He was beyond pissed off. Pissed at Natasha and pissed at Fury for not bothering to tell him the full story.

“Okay. That one’s on me.” Natasha breathed out.

“You’re damn right.” Steve grit his teeth and pushed himself up, storming out in anger. Of course, Batroc was nowhere to be found.

**** Steve was that angry about the cluster-fuck of a mission that he didn’t speak a word to Natasha all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on. Once back at base he stormed off the jet, ignoring pretty much everyone and simply barking out that they would debrief in the morning.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn’t too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his. 

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since he’d left the Lemurian Star and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment three at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs tucked underneath her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” He asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “Not at all.” He smiled, turning away as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied as he walked back into the lounge. “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview the youngest Stark prodigee. She had declined all of them until the board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d actually kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” She smiled as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” She mumbled softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?”

He nodded.

“So how did you do it this time?”

“I got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” He grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” She shrugged stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner.”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly, he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the water and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS.“

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite bread. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.”

“Behave.” He admonished, giving her a look. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he stored the bottle of Arnica gel she insisted he keep to hand. As he ate, she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side. The bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” He nodded in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered.”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was running a separate mission, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done.”

“Fury?”

He nodded.

“More secrets” Katie sighed, feeling a flash of anger. “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but, Doll, how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” Katie spoke softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” She reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin. “She has a job to do, same as you. Its Fury you should be talking to about it.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve snorted. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow morning after de-brief…”

“Well, at least you’ll get an explanation. I mean it might not be what you wanna hear but…”

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind, Steve concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down before she stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want any more to eat?” She asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Okay, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up “And that’s an order.”

“Bossy bastard” She retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Okay, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long.” He smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, crossed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind Katie. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded.

He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” Katie sighed, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot, “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” Steve practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that.” She replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced his fingers over her hip, hand flattening as it crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching whilst his lips continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve.” She moaned softly, her tone pleading. “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever. 

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Please Stevie.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her, pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He moved slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands wrapped around hers, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her completely. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her, “That’s it baby girl…” lips soft on her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” She whispered softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest and his arm curled round her, large hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” She asked gently, hand rubbing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half nine.” He gave a sated yawn.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” She muttered through a yawn of her own.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife.” He grinned, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget his worries.

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” She whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck as he’d done his usual koala impression. As gently as she could, she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be twenty-five past seven, five minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could.

Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, Steve didn’t stir when Katie returned following her shower and was still out of it when she finished dressing so she unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made the previous day into the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about eight-fifteen, there was still no sign of Steve so Katie headed through to the bedroom to wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey.” That soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost eight-fifteen.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” She said with a tone so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “There’s coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” He rolled over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” She teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you, Doll.” he murmured with a smile. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past four months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on. It was almost normal, what people with mundane nine to five jobs did. And he realised he wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there contemplating it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

When he headed through, Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear.

“I know!” Her tone was one of utter excitement. “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York and as he looked at it, he felt his mouth drop open. His girl was stood against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot raised back against the flat surface behind her, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, with a low cut white blouse underneath.

“Yeah, I know Tony.” She continued speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart, elbows resting on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just twenty-nine she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after thirty seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first three months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over fifty-percent first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us with a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

“We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America?”

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” She replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly, she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” The blush spread from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus.”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was the shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala as they danced. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen. 

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony. He brought me up from the age of seven, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal, but once he realised we were serious, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

“Do they get on?” At that she laughed. “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s six and, even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last two years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends time in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think it’s fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up. Are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” She smiled, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know baby.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” She informed him as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled. “And maybe we can do something this afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect”

***** Chapter 14

**Original Posting**

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

As Far As Friends Go

Chapter 16 (Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Chapter 15)

Nixon - July - September 1944 All thought left Nixon’s mind as he stared down into Emily’s red-rimmed gray eyes. He wanted to say more, but the words were stuck in his throat. Who the hell was he to tell her anything? He was married. He was a bad husband, a selfish lover, a drunk - he had no business giving her advice.

“Just trust me,” he whispered. Emily’s frown deepened as she searched his face. But Nixon would reveal nothing. The only thing he was certain about in that moment was that he didn’t want to see Emily get hurt; not by Harry, not by him, not by anyone. “Emily, I’m sorry I accused you of not taking your job seriously. You are one of the best people on my staff.”

“Really?” Emily’s voice was meek. 
“If not the best. You’re invaluable. I’m sorry that I haven’t given you the acknowledgment you deserve. I’m sorry you don’t get the respect you deserve.” Emily swallowed. Nixon’s heart broke into a thousand pieces when her chin quivered. “I’m sorry I got so emotional,” she said in a hushed voice. “Don’t apologize.” Nixon wanted to move forward to touch her, to hold her, but something in him wouldn’t allow it. She probably didn’t want that from him anyway. His words could only heal so much in a night. 
“Please,” something caught in Nixon’s throat, “please just don’t say anything to Harry. I don’t want to see you get heartbroken.” Emily bit her lip. It took all of his patience to remain quiet as he waited for her to respond. She roamed his face with her eyes. It was as if she was looking right through him, right into the very core of him. Nixon’s stomach jumped at her shameless gaze. “Fine,” she finally said. Fine, he would have to accept that. Inside, he begged her to say more. He begged her to stay standing there so he could just look at her a moment longer. But she turned to the street, the city’s shadows rippling off the folds of her dress, the angle of her jaw and curve of her eyelashes. She stretched a hand into the night sky and a black cab appeared, its golden headlights flashing. Emily turned back to look at him before stepping through the open car door, “see you in Aldbourne, Nix.” 
Nixon only managed to raise a hand goodbye and then she was gone, slipping off into the night. Nixon kicked himself. Why did he make the same mistake over and over again? He always went too far. He was mean. Why? Why did he lose his cool around her? Day after day he had officers, soldiers, and Tommy’s saying stupid shit to him and he still managed to hold his tongue. But the simplest conversation with Emily would spiral out of his control. Nixon returned to Aldbourne in the morning. He was relieved to be back. He needed a purpose and he enjoyed the work that occupied him. Green replacements were showing up every day to take the place of men Nixon had worked alongside for two years. All of the new faces suddenly made the quaint refuge of Aldbourne feel foreign. The new soldiers hadn’t had half the training the Toccoa men had, nor the rigor that Easy Company experienced under Sobel. Winters and the other officers had their work cut out for them getting the replacements up to standard. Nixon had other things to worry about. The 101st was on standby; jumps were scheduled and canceled as Patton’s army infiltrated the continent. The men were restless. Having faced the reality of war in Normandy, the men were living carpe diem. They went out drinking, fighting, and playing every chance they got. John Martin and Bill Guarnere even got themselves some tattoos. In the evenings, Nixon found himself in his lover’s bed, and during the days he was watching Emily. As far as Nixon knew, Emily hadn’t said anything to Harry regarding her feelings. But Nixon didn’t miss the forlorn looks she gave him. Nixon grit his teeth each time he saw her mooning over Harry’s turned back. That night in London Nixon realized that he cared deeply for Emily in a way that could never be realized. He was married. He was a rogue. She deserved so much more than being a mistress- stop. He had to stop himself there. He couldn’t afford to even entertain the idea. Let her pine for Harry. It was only a crush, a crush and nothing more. It wasn’t hurting anyone; at least no one but him. The reality was, Emily was young. She was beautiful and clever. One day she would meet someone and it would be more than just a crush. Their fight in London had sobered Nixon up. Not literally, but it made him check his own behavior. He didn’t want to fight with her again. He never wanted to make her cry again. If all they could be was friends and colleagues, he wanted to be the best friend and colleague she had. Once they returned to the continent their time together would be even more limited. Nixon was determined to make the most of it. That summer in Aldbourne they worked together more symbiotically than ever before. Nixon’s conscious patience combined with Emily’s keen intuition made their workdays go smoothly. This was beneficial for the American intelligence’s reputation in front of the Brits. The next drop onto the continent would take place in Holland. Operation Market Garden was the brainchild of British intelligence. Nixon didn’t want to sound like a snob so he wouldn’t admit that he was wary of their plan. But orders were orders so Nixon surrendered control. Though Operation Market garden was the strategic genius of the British, Nixon and his staff did a lot of the grunt work. Emily helped to identify drop zones and coordinated routes for the paratroopers to meet up with the British armory. It was a lot of work in a region Emily had never seen, nor would likely ever see. The plan was to drop into Holland near Eindhoven. This meant another troopship for Emily and overground travel through the seized territory. If everything went as it should, Emily would link up with Battalion headquarters just across the border in Germany. That was if everything was executed as the allies hoped. Summer wound down and the first chills of winter came with the falling leaves of September. Back in their old digs, Nixon sipped on a whiskey-laced cup of coffee. “Why are you being so nice to me lately?” Emily was working at her desk, using a ruler to draw a grid on a black and white map. “What do you mean? I’m always nice.” Emily lifted her pen from the map she was looking at to give him a look. “What? You want me to be mean?”



“No, of course not,” she turned back to her paper, “but it’s weird.”



“Why is it weird?”



“I’m just not used to you like this.” “Like what?” “You have two versions.” Emily said, “smart Nix and grumpy Nix.” “Nice to hear you think I’m smart,” Nixon perched on the edge of his desk to watch her work. “Smart as in smart-ass,” she elaborated. “Well, that’s not very nice.” “I’m not the one being accused of being nice.” “Accused? You make nice sound like such a bad thing.” Emily giggled, “I do not! I’m just saying you’re out of character.” “Maybe war has changed me.” “I’m so glad you’re never dramatic.” Nixon raised his eyebrows over a sip of coffee, “If I’m dramatic it’s from spending time with you.” Emily stuck her tongue out at him. Nixon was about to retort when Lt. Colonel Strayer appeared in in the doorway, “Captain Nixon,” “Right,” Nixon sat his coffee down on his desk and followed Strayer out the door. Nixon shared a jeep with Strayer as far as the hanger outside Aldbourne. Winters stood in front of the Easy Company men assembled beneath a large map of Holland. Nixon took his place on Winters’ left and the lieutenants and sergeants fell in by rank behind him. Nixon noticed Emily’s handiwork on the stenciled letters above the hand-colored map. “This is called Operation Market Garden,” Winters presented, “in terms of Airborne Divisions involved, we’re dropping deep into occupied Holland.” Nixon scanned the faces of the men assembled before them. Without knowing the individuals, he could tell who had been in Normandy and who hadn’t; it was the difference of acceptance and anxiety. All of their serious faces hung on Winters’ every word, soaking up every detail of what was to come. As Winters finished his presentation some of the veteran’s expressions changed to ones of confusion. Nixon stepped forward, “the entire European advance has been put on hold to allocate resources for this operation. It’s Montgomery’s personal plan and we’ll be under British command.” Once Nixon finished the men filed out to prepare to jump the next day. “Old men and children?” Winters said over Nixon's shoulder.

Nixon looked over at his friend, “that’s what they’re telling us.” “And how reliable do you think the intelligence is?” Winters asked as they walked out of the hanger. Nixon rolled his jaw, “what can I say? It’s coming from the top.”

“It’s hard to believe this will end the war.”

“All we can do is hope for the best. Home by Christmas,” Nixon said. “Home by Christmas,” Winters repeated as if it were a mantra. That night Nixon couldn’t sleep though he needed to. They would be leaving for the airfield at first light. After an hour or so of staring at his ceiling, Nixon pulled on his boots, grabbed his flask, and walked downstairs. He didn’t know what he was seeking but he had to get out of his room. Nixon took a sip from his flask as he stepped into the hall. It seemed to stretch on forever in the darkness. He didn’t bother to screw the cap on his flask. He made his way down the carpeted steps drinking along the way. Nixon didn’t know where he was going as he wandered through the winding halls of the manor. It wasn’t until he was in front of her door that he realized he had walked to Emily’s room. He raised his hand to knock when the door swung open. “Oh!” Emily yelped in surprise then quickly pressed a hand over her mouth, “Lew, you startled me.”

“Uh, sorry,” Nixon said. Emily’s expression quickly morphed into concern, “is everything okay?” Nixon smoothed his hair down, realizing it was probably mussed from laying in bed. “oh yeah, I just was walking by and noticed your light on. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” “Oh,” Emily smiled suspiciously, “okay, well I’m going downstairs for some tea, you want to come?” Nixon hesitated, considering her offer, “uhh, no, that’s okay. Thanks.” “Okay, you sure?” Emily’s eyes flicked down at the flask in his hand. Nixon tightened his grip on it suddenly self conscious. “Yeah, gonna head to bed.” “Okay, well hey, if I don’t see you before,” she paused, not wanting to verbalize the goodbye. “I’ll see you over there,” Nixon nodded confidently at her. Unexpectedly, she reached out and took his empty hand. Nixon looked down at her grip and back up into her sweet face. She squeezed his hand, “I’ll see you over there, Lew.” It took all of his willpower to turn away from her. He walked slowly back down the dark hallway listening to her light steps fall away down the steps behind him.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.18 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has already dealt with the local sheriff about his adventures in the local woods. Seems like Edge might have a thing or three to say.

~~*~~

Read ‘Electric Boogaloo’ on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

It was funny how some things become automatic. Stretch was still thinking about Buford when Edge came into the store not long after the sheriff left. Still thinking about those strange white eyes of his, wondering at exactly how much he could see. How much, how far, how deep did it go. Stretch knew a little something himself about seeing a bit too much.

Still, habits were habits. Even though his mind wasn’t necessarily working in the here and now, Stretch automatically stood up straight and greeted Edge when he came in, customer service skills were a heck of a learned trait, even if he was the only one who worked here that had them.

“morning, hey, what’s up? what do you—" need, he didn’t get to say. He barely had time to notice that Edge didn’t look like his normal gorgeous self, hips notwithstanding. Sure, he was wearing his normal motorhuckle gear and he was walking like he was on his way to kill Captain America. But he looked pale, his skull chalk-white and stark, his eye lights faded to a shade closer to dull pink.

That wasn’t what cut off his ‘can i help you’ spiel. Nope, that was Edge stalking right over to the counter and around it into the register area. Stretch found himself roughly pulled into Edge’s arms and held in a painfully tight hug that nearly threatened to crack ribs.

Okay? This was new but fuck it if Stretch wasn’t going to go for it. He wrapped both arms around Edge and squeezed back, relished the feel of that long, lean body against his own, even buffered under a layer of leather. “um. hi?”

Edge said nothing, only held on, with all ten fingers digging in through the back of Stretch’s t-shirt and damned if he was gonna try fight his way loose. Was it his imagination or was Edge shaking a little? Or maybe that was the earth moving under his feet because Edge smelled so good, no bone cologne could compare. Like spice and woodsmoke, like the heavenly pies he made for Mama’s.

Nothing to be done for it, might as well dive into the deep end and see if he could drown. Stretch closed his sockets and basked in it, reveled in it. Maybe this was some weird frosting on top of an already bizarre cake but Stretch really wanted his slice.

After a minute, Edge was showing no signs of letting up and much as Stretch would’ve been perfectly fine standing like this all day, probably he should say something. It’d be pretty hard to run register if he was stuck to Edge like a conjoined twin and considering that they were sort of the same person, maybe better not to risk it.

It was just a damn shame that Stretch was so shitty at digging beneath the layers of other people’s traumas. Hell, he could barely take a shovel to his own.

He managed to work up enough air to wheeze out, “is…something wrong?” A horrible thought occurred. What if he wasn’t the only person the lady ghoul went to visit last night? Maybe she took the nickel tour of the woods, maybe Buford’s all-seeing eye blinked and missed something. “is frisk okay?”

“Yes,” Edge choked out. His voice was muffled into Stretch’s shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

Stretch shifted in his arms and only managed about an inch in any direction. “don’t take this the wrong way, but as fine as this feels, you don’t seem fine.”

That didn’t get any reply. Instead, Edge loosened his grip just enough to press his face into the hollow of Stretch’s collarbone where he inhaled deeply, mouth opened as if he wanted to taste whatever scent gathered there, get the whole experience.

Um. Holy shit. Okay, well, that was a fetish Stretch never knew he had, and if he wasn’t pinned like a sardine in Edge’s kung-fu grip, he might’ve honest to angel flailed at the feel of damp, hot breath against his clavicles. Every time Edge decided to go through his scratch ‘n sniff routine, it sent willie wonkers tingling right up his spine and right down his pants. All he could do was grit his teeth and stare blankly up at the ceiling as he tried desperately not to embarrass himself any more than the usual.

Finally, all too soon, Edge drew away. He took two steps back, putting some distance between them. He seemed almost embarrassed now and Stretch could only reluctantly let him go.

He was really, really grateful for his work apron right about now; good for catching dust and gook, with a side bonus of hiding inconvenient boners. Hopefully it wasn’t the not-at-all-a-pencil-in-his-pocket that chased Edge away. “not that i mind, like, really not, but you think you could let me in on what that was all about?”

“I’m sorry,” Edge said, stiffly. He crammed his hands into his jacket pockets and looked anywhere but at Stretch.

“uh, nope,” Stretch shook his head, “no apologies, hugs are free real estate.” He’d been this close to Edge before a couple of times but always before there had been distractions. Now looking at him was the distraction and Stretch let his gaze linger on the razer-sharp lines of his cheekbones, the tight narrowing of his eye sockets. The crack that ran through his left socket was obviously old, the edges worn relatively smooth, smoother than their owner.

Edge still didn’t look at him, not directly, anyway. A flick of his eye lights towards Stretch, then back away as he said, tightly. “We came very close to losing you last night. It was…upsetting.”

Oh.

Well, good news traveled fast, didn’t it, basically at the speed of light around these parts. He wondered glumly if Red was in his apartment busily composing a profanity-laden symphony titled ‘I Told You So.’

“How did you know?” Stretch sighed out. Maybe Frisk was tuned in to the local airwaves or Edgar Allen might branch out into branches instead of corn gossip.

“Buford,” Edge admitted. “He is the town constable, he looks after the town. Literally, in his case.”

Also had a big mouth, seemed like. “yeah, uh, he showed me his eyes.”

“Did he?” Edge seemed surprised, then pleased. “He usually wears his sunglasses. He rarely takes them off when he’s on duty because outsiders tend to find his eyes unsettling. But yes, it’s his duty to watch out for problems and he does it well.”

Stretch nodded slowly, “must be tough on him sometimes, seeing all that.” He had a little personal experience in that.

“Buford does his duty,” Edge said with a certain finality. Welp, looked like that topic was done and Stretch was fine with that since Edge was starting to look a little calmer. His eye lights weren’t on Stretch’s but lower, focused more on the mouth region and when Stretch flicked his tongue across his teeth nervously, those crimson lights went heavy and dark.

To his disappointment, Edge didn’t go for Ginormous Hug 2: Electric Boogaloo. Instead, he reeled back, shaking himself visibly and turning towards the door. “Well. I only wanted to check in on you, I should be going.”

“wait!” Stretch blurted and Edge hesitated, raising one browbone. “don’t go, not yet.”

He waved a hand in offering at the stool behind the counter and after a moment of hesitation, Edge stepped around the dog and took it. Mutt never stirred, burrowed down in the blanket Red had laid down for him, snoring away. Good thing they hadn’t been in the market for a guard dog.

Stretch hopped up on the counter to sit, (hey, his butt was cleaner than the whole store had been when he first got here) and wondered what the hell to do now. He’d wanted Edge to stay and now he didn’t know what to talk about. Every other chat they’d had was about some kind of Backwater weirdness, the peanut butter and pickle sandwich version of a conversation. He wasn’t sure he even knew how to have a white bread and butter chat.

Edge seemed to agree. He swiped a finger along one of the shelves behind the counter and checked the results, finding it to be relatively dust-free. “The store is looking much better since my brother hired you on.”

“yeah,” Stretch latched on to that topic gratefully, it was marginally better than bringing up the weather. “try to keep up on it. he’s paying me well enough for it, plus room and board, figured i can do my mr clean impression.” He gave the top of his skull a pat. “i’ve already got the bald part down.”

Edge made a rough, scoffing sound and even that was somehow delicious in that voice of his. “I suspect most of what fills up your board comes from my kitchen.”

Stretch suspected the same but leapt to his landlord’s defense, anyway, he owned Red that much and more. “hey, red is a damn fine microwave wrangler when he puts his mind to it.” Okay, so that was less of a leap than a trip and miss, but he’d tried. Maybe better to steer the topic boat out of the rapids and into calmer water. “my bro likes to cook, too.”

“Is he very good?” Edge leaned forward curiously, propping his chin up on a hand.

Woah, wait, abandon ship, that was not calmer waters, that was a storm a’brewing, a freaking typhoon. “good is relative,” Stretch said stoutly.

“Ah,” One corner of Edge’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Rest assured, I would never force you to disparage your brother’s cooking. If it’s any comfort, my recipes were somewhat unique when we first came here as well. Like the garden, it took some time for my skills to come into bloom.”

“seriously?” There was a little too much naked relief in that one word but fuck it, Blue wasn’t here to hear it, “so how many years until he’s less ‘nailed it’ and more ‘chef’s table’?”

That half-smile widened. “Time is also relative, as are brothers. How is your brother, I’m assuming he’s still back in Ebott. Have you spoken to him since you came here?”

Welp, he’d avoided the storm only to end up in shark-infested waters, wasn’t that just his luck, “sort of,” Stretch hedged.

Edge’s teeth parted in a silent ‘ah’ as he successfully decoded that message. “You texted him. Well, that’s better than leaving him completely in the dark.”

“i think he’s doing okay. he was even before i left.” He really hoped so, but then, Blue settled in easily enough from the start. From the Human’s perspective, his bro looked a little like he’d stepped out of some kind of cartoon. He was small and adorable, his starry eye lights in his huge sockets were as cute as if Disney blessed him from beyond the grave. Stretch didn’t begrudge his brother for that, ‘course he didn’t, but that didn’t make his own experiences easy cheesy. “frisk was pretty right about ebott. when it comes to monsters, it sure isn’t backwater.”

“I’m sorry.” Said with enough quiet sincerity to make Stretch shift uncomfortably.

He shrugged weakly. “eh, not your fault.”

“No, but I can still let you share your pains.” Edge reached up and took his hand. He rubbed a scarred thumb gently over his knuckles and Stretch caught his breath. “You know, I used to dream about coming to the surface. Back in my world, in the Underground. Frisk told you that it was a place of LV, not love. My brother and I spent much of our time there simply struggling to survive.” The reminiscence in Edge’s voice held no hint of fondness, but there was a certain faint wistfulness. “I had such grand dreams of what the surface world would be like back then. Hope was difficult to come by in my universe, I never truly believed a human would come and when they did, well.” Edge chuckled and there was the fondness missing from before. “Frisk was not at all what I imagined.”

“did the surface world live up to your dreams?” Stretch asked, curiously. His own dreams of the Aboveground were shaken to their foundations barely an hour into the sunlight, when the first Humans to arrive greeted them not with welcome, but with automatic rifles.

“In some ways,” Edge said. “Mostly, it’s very different from what I imagine. But like Frisk, not necessarily in a bad way.”

“ebott is sure fucking different then i imagined,” Stretch only realized how hard he was squeezing Edge’s hand when both of their joints popped. He loosened his grip, then pulled away entirely, picking up the pen from the counter to fiddle with; at least if he broke that, he’d be the only one stained. “doesn’t matter, anyway. i’m not there right now, am i.”

“Indeed not. You’re here, and Backwater is probably as different from Ebott as it is the Underground.” Edge stood in a jangling, creaking rhapsody of leather and buckles. “On that note, I do need to get going.”

Stretch stood too, hopping down from the counter. Much as he’d like Edge to stay, he did have some work to get done and who knew what Edge needed to get back to. “thank you for checking in on me.”

“Of course.” Too fast for Stretch to do more than blink, Edge leaned in and Stretch stood frozen as he pressed a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, the delicate scrape of his teeth almost ticklish against sensitive bone. He pulled back before Stretch managed to gather up all his scattered wits, and his smile was the soft, real one as he said, “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

“soon,” Stretch parroted dumbly. He stood there like an idiot and watched Edge leave, only coming back to himself at the jangle of the bell over the door. Then he cursed himself, roundly and in every language he knew, including modified flamespeak. Smooth moves, there, Marvin Gaye, couldn’t even turn your head for a real kiss? Just stood there with crotch plug store book and didn’t even try to kick it up a notch? But he’d gotten one hell of a hug and a hand fondle, that was worth nearly getting eaten by Lady Cthulhu out there.

Well, almost.

“mind not getting your sop all over my counter?”

Stretch whirled around, barely managing not to trip over his own feet, to see Red standing in the hallway entrance. He was leaning heavily on his cane with a brutally unimpressed look on his face.

Fuck.

“i’m sorry—” Stretch began and faltered, unsure of what to say. He’d tried to listen to Red, he really had. He’d warned Stretch against starting anything with his bro from the beginning, offered plenty of warnings against rebound fucks and people getting hurt, and Stretch had tried. Except he hadn’t, had he, not really, and he could try to blame Edge’s hips and that gorgeous voice all he wanted; in the end, it was his fault, just like everything else. He hadn’t really been fighting that hard, why would he, it wasn’t like he wanted to win.

Red only sighed heavily and waved him off. “ain’t nothing to be sorry for. toldja before, i ain’t worried about my bro. you’re the one keepin’ me awake at night.”

“speaking of worrying,” Stretch took a deep breath before plunging forward, away from the sharks and heading into the shallows where the piranhas swam. “look, before anyone else decides to spill the beans, i need to tell you something.”

Red held up a hand and Stretch fell silent. “lemme get my coffee first.”

Coffee sounded better than it had any right to and, in his chest, Stretch’s soul gave an uncomfortable lurch like it could hop out and get a cup of its own. Hopefully, he asked, “can i get some?”

“yeah, sure,” Red turned back towards the apartment and tossed back over his shoulder, “whatcha want in it?”

“honey?” May as well dream big.

“yeah, darlin’?”

What? ”No!” Stretch blurted. “I mean…I didn’t…”

“yeah, yeah,” Red snickered. “i gotcha, brat.”

It was both entirely too long and much too quickly that Red made his way back with two heavy white mugs that looked as if they’d been stolen from Mama’s diner. He handed one to Stretch and settled in to lean against the counter, sipping from his own. “so, this about why you and my bro were cozying up behind the counter?”

“uh, sort of,” Stretch hedged. He stalled by taking a sip of his coffee, glorying in the thick, over-sweetened brew. “he came by because buford got a hold of him.”

Red lurched upright as if someone goosed him right on his tailbone. Hot coffee sloshed over his hand and he hissed, shaking his wet, stinging fingers as he demanded, “he did what now? what the fuck happened?”

“it’s not that bad.”

It was a weak attempt at best, not that it mattered. Red didn’t fall for it in the slightest. He didn’t move, there was no noticeable change in his breathing or posture, but the sardonic humor that seemed to cling to Red like another shirt evaporated entirely and left behind nothing but cold sincerity. “buford don’t exactly text, he don’t get ahold of anyone unless—” Red stopped and gave Stretch a coolly assessing glance that he squirmed beneath. Quietly, he said, “kid, what did you do?”

“i didn’t do it!” Stretch blurted and no amount of defending himself to his own brother or even the Ebott police could have prepared him for this. “the dog ran off, but i didn’t go into the woods! not until—there was this…this thing!” Stretch gestured wildly, trying ineffectively to convey with skinny bone hands the shadowy, awful creature that lured him into the dark last night. He couldn’t hold back a shudder of revulsion, simply thinking about it was filling him with a renewed sense of horror. “it looked like a woman and then it didn’t, she was singing, she was doing something, and i couldn’t stop myself, i couldn’t even think!”

He stopped, panting, and Red said nothing. He only stood there statue-still and Stretch would have given about anything for the door to open, the bell to jangle as someone looking for a fresh supply of ass wipers broke that awful silence.

Desperately, Stretch pressed on, letting out a nervous laugh. “anyway, i’m okay. she didn’t touch me or bite me or anything. i got out okay.” He didn’t mention the bone dragon, wasn’t even sure why, but Red was still frozen and silent over hearing about one terrifying encounter, maybe better not to mention two.

“red?” Stretch tried, hating how his voice sounded so small and forlorn. In a dismal corner of his mind, he was already mentally packing his bags. He couldn’t go back to Ebott, not now, not yet, but where else could he go, what other job could he possibly find? Maybe a waiter at Mama’s or maybe the thrift shop needed a helping hand. He didn’t know. The little money he had wouldn’t last long and definitely not in a bigger city. He didn’t really have any options, no choices at all.

He jerked back as Red suddenly jolted into movement, limping around the counter without his cane. He staggered almost drunkenly and then swung around to violently ram his fist into the first rack of the shelves. The wooden frame rocked and groaned, scattering boxes and cans to the floor on either side. A small bag of cornmeal fell and burst open, scattering dusty yellow across the floorboards.

“i…i’ll just…” Stretch couldn’t say go, he couldn’t, saying it would make this real, and he couldn’t let it be real. He took a step towards the hallway, tasting heavy tears on the back of his tongue.

Red’s voice stopped him, “kid.”

Stretch stood there and watched Red wrap both arms around himself. The fingers of one hand were streaked with marrow, he’d probably cracked his phalanges, but Red only shuddered faintly, drawing in a long breath and letting it out in a shaky rattle as he said, “if i’d’ve known she was awake, i woulda warned ya.”

Oh.

Oh, that made a terrible amount of sense and it didn’t make Stretch feel one fucking bit better to realize that Red wasn’t mad at him.

“it’s fine, red,” Stretch said, gently. It was hard to bank his own fears, but he managed, “it’s not your fault. i’m okay.”

Red heaved out a hitching little sigh and Stretch didn’t need Buford’s powers or his own magic to see that Red didn’t believe that, not even a little.

“okay,” he muttered under his breath, low and indistinct, “okay, okay.” Then louder, “okay, kid, get on out of here.”

“you’re firing me?” Stretch blurted, horrified. He’d begun to believe it was all right, more fool he, hadn’t he had the rug ripped out from under him enough times by now, when would he ever learn?

“what?” Red said, aghast. “fuck no! take a little time off, is all, after a shitty night like that, you need it. go see a movie, ‘wizard of oz’ ’s playin’, think it’ll be right up your alley.”

Relief left him weak, but he made no move towards the door. “but. your hand?”

“what about my hand?” Red raised his browbones and his hand at once and Stretch stared at the clean, pristine bones in confusion, what the fuck, he was sure he’d seen—

“okay, but,” Stretch still didn’t want to leave, some part of him vaguely convinced that if he left he wouldn’t be able to come back, like this shabby little store was some kind of fae place. “here, let me clean up.”

“i can fucking clean,” Red said impatiently. “been doing it since long before you got here.” He hooked his perfectly unbroken thumb at the door, “now, git! scoot!”

It seemed better not to comment on Red’s cleaning skills. Stretch hung up his apron and obediently scooted while Red limped over to the broom.

Outside, the temperature was just above a swelter. Stretch headed towards the theater even as the kids pulled up by the shop and dropped their bikes to head in, about five minutes too late.

Red had the right idea, he decided tiredly. A movie sounded like a good idea right about now. If, that was, he could stay awake through the opening credits.

tbc

[brywrites]

Date Night I

I got so many requests in my inbox for a version of “Date Night” set in The Keeping of Words universe. There were so many suggestions for how that could look, but I’m really happy with this version, so I hope those of you who like TKOW enjoy it! Part 2 coming very soon!

Summary: Three years after leaving the BAU, Dr. Spencer Reid has given up chasing monsters to be a part-time professor and a full-time dad. It’s all domestic bliss - until Cat Adams turns up at the BAU.

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, references to past kidnapping and assault

.......................................

“Now, it’s rare for serial killers to go that long between murders, but years passed between the BTK attacks. How did Rader manage to go that long between murders?”

Reid’s students stared at him expectantly, a few flipping back through their notes. A girl in Georgetown hoodie raised her hand. “Well it seems like he stayed connected to what he did in like, other ways? He wrote up detailed plans for each attack so maybe he focused on that.”

“Yeah,” added a boy with round glasses and a sticker-covered laptop. “And he wrote to the police a lot with information and puzzles, so that could have given him the feeling of power he needed.”

“Good, good,” Reid said. “Those are both great points. Rader did all of that and more. The stalking, the planning, the communication with the media is all part of what we c-” His train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He gave it the briefest of glances – just Emily, likely asking for an obscure fact he could provide after the lecture – before pocketing it once more and continuing. “Sorry. Uh, so all of his behavior is what we call sublimating. Psychologically speaking, it’s the process of diverting one’s impulses or desires into a more socially acceptable activity. Forensically, it’s how unsubs curb their urges during a cooling-off period. In this case we see that…” His phone began to ring again. The name on the screen was the same.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again. He made it a point not to use his phone in front of his students and to give them the same respect he asked of them while in his class. He quickly sent Prentiss a text. In lecture – call in 30? “As I was saying, in this case it’s clear that–” Before he could even return the phone to his pocket it rang again.

A sudden chill came over him. This wasn’t just about a consult. “I – uh, sorry,” he stammered. His students glanced between themselves. It wasn’t like their hyper-focused, luddite professor to take a call in the middle of lecture. Reid turned away from them as he raised the phone to his ear. “What is it?” he asked.

“Reid, I’m so sorry. We need you to come in immediately. Luke’s out front to bring you to Quantico. We have a kidnapping case and there’s one demand – that we release Cat Adams within 24 hours.” The name made every muscle in his body tense. An automatic trauma response.

“No.” The sound of her name alone sent flashbacks flickering through this memory. Glimpses of Mexico, the inside of a prison cell, his mother screaming, Bianca crying on the witness stand in a courtroom. There was no way he was letting that woman any chance to get near him or his family ever again.

“She insists she’ll only speak if she can talk to you.” This exactly why he’d left the Bureau in the first place.

“Emily, I’m retired, I’m not an agent anymore and–”

“And there are lives on the line, Spencer. I wouldn’t ask if we had any other choice.” And so he ended class early, hurried out of the lecture hall, and climbed into the waiting SUV. Luke tried to catch him up – that morning Garcia had received a video from a woman with dark hair, showing two huddled, hooded figures tied up on the floor of a warehouse. A woman and a small child. They seemed to be crying and while Garcia couldn’t make out their identity, the woman filming wasn’t trying to hide her face at all. The demand attached said they would be killed if Catherine Adams wasn’t released from prison, and Cat only wanted to talk to him. The only man she’d ever lost to.

“This doesn’t follow her typical M.O.,” Reid said. “She usually goes after men, fathers specifically. Why go after what’s likely a mother and child?” Cat was a creature of habit. Her impulsive nature was her downfall. This didn’t seem like her at all.

Luke shrugged. “You know her better than I do. I’ll have Garcia show you the footage when we get there, maybe you’ll see something we didn’t.” But as soon they arrived at the BAU, Emily ushered him off to an interrogation room. There she sat in an orange jumpsuit, staring at the one-way glass, waiting for him with a Cheshire cat grin. It made his blood boil. Reid inhaled deeply before stepping inside. He stood there staring at her in silence. He didn’t trust himself not to scream.

Cat laughed. “Classic negotiating technique. First one to speak loses, right?” The sound of her voice took him right back to that awful night – leaving Milburn, nearly losing his mother, Bianca crying in the roundtable room. Scratch and the crash and Stephen’s death and everything that had come after.

He wasn’t in the mood for her games. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should have been finishing his class and going home to pick Eliza up from pre-school. “You arranged the kidnapping of two people and you did it the same way you did it before,” he sighed. Cat immediately launched into her usual banter. She had given up fighting her case, she insisted. Now she just wanted to stave off the boredom by playing with her favorite toy. The only thing she hadn’t done, she claimed, was him.

“You sexually violated me in Mexico,” he reminded her.

“I did? Are you sure?” she asked. He gritted his teeth. “Stop being the boy who cried rape, Spencie, it’s not a good look.”

The room was too small, too warm. He couldn’t bear to be in here with her but he had to be. “I want to go a date,” she declared. “With you.”

“A date?” This was absurd. This was ridiculous. This couldn’t be happening.

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun. And I won’t even get physical, ok?” Cat rolled her eyes. “Unless you want me to.”

There was no way he was going to take Cat Adams on a date. There were only two people he’d ever been on a date with in his life (the ill-fated Redskins game and the Lila Archer incident didn’t count, he’d decided), and he had no desire to add a third to that list. Going out on a date was what he did with Bianca, because he loved her. He took her to bookstores and symphonies and New York City. He bought her flowers and watched her favorite movies and made a list of all her favorite restaurants. That was something special. Something sacred.

“The only date I’ll be there for,” he whispered to Cat, “is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

“You’re gonna let a mother and daughter die?” Cat asked. So whoever was in that video Luke mentioned, it was a mother and her child.

“I never said a mother and daughter. You’re already slipping. We’ll find them, we always do.” The team would find them and he could go home and be with the only two people he wanted to sit across a table from.

“Not tonight,” Cat laughed. “Tonight, I win.”

This was a waste of his time. “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it’ll be a clean sweep.” He turned to glare at her. “Enjoy eternal nothingness. It’s a metaphor for your life.” It was petty, he knew that, but he couldn’t resist letting the bitterness he felt rising in his throat out in some small way.

Cat snorted. “You don’t even realize you’re already losing.” Before he could ask her what she meant, the interrogation room door opened. Prentiss stood there staring at Cat with an expression of utter horror. That Cheshire cat smirk returned. Reid’s glanced between the two women whose gaze held an unspoken secret he couldn’t make sense of.

“What is it, Emily?” he asked.

“Outside,” the unit chief said.

“I did something bad, Spencie,” Cat sing-songed. His stomach dropped. He was missing something. Cat knew it. Emily knew it. And whatever it was, it was big. Emily grabbed his arm, pulling him out of the room. Cat’s laughter echoed. The blood rushed in his ears. Something was wrong.

“Spencer,” Emily began. She shut the door behind her and placed herself in front of it, blocking his way. “The unsub sent another video to Garcia. The woman removed the hoods from their faces and we’ve been able to identify the two victims in the video.” Two people. A mother and daughter. A mother and daughter. I did something bad, Spencie. You don’t even realize you’re already losing. No. No, he couldn’t go there.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. She turned over a tablet. The video showed a dusty warehouse with big windows. And even if the two people had been wearing hoods, he would’ve recognized them immediately. If Luke had been able to show him the video in the car, if they’d taken him to the roundtable room first, he would’ve known. That was her favorite cardigan and the dress he’d zipped up for her in their bedroom. And those were the tiny shoes he’d carefully tied while she sat patiently in the carseat. And now, those were the faces of the two people he loved more than anything in this life, staring back at him.

“No.” His voice cracked.

“We don’t know how she got to them, but I promise you we won’t rest until Bianca and Eliza are safe.”

“No.” In her wisdom Prentiss had blocked him from running back into that room and doing something he might regret later. Reid bit down, forcing back every curse he wanted to shout. He turned and stormed down the hall, pushing his way through the glass doors until he came upon Morgan’s empty office. He stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. It was too hot, his clothes were too tight, everything was too overwhelming and he couldn’t think straight. Fingers fumbled with the knot of his tie, only able to loosen it enough to yank it over his head. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt and shook out his arms. Stimming always helped to center him. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand to his stomach. Breathed in and out. In and out.

She had them. Cat had them.

Reid screamed, a guttural sound that came from his throat of its own accord. He spun around and set eyes on a desk piled high with books and papers and he pushed them all off to the floor. A lamp went with them, which crashed into a water cooler that tumbled over on its side. It wasn’t enough. He screamed again, flipping a table in the center of the room and throwing a book at the wall. “FUCK!” he shouted. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

It was like his body didn’t know how to handle the rage. He fell to his knees and curled into himself on the floor, sobbing. This was his fault, all his fault. His only job was to keep them safe, and they were in danger now because of him.

....

Their captor lowered the video camera, smirking. “I think that’ll be a nice video to send your husband, won’t it?” Bianca grit her teeth, inhaling through her nose and willing herself to keep it together. She had to stay calm, for Eliza’s sake. Her ribs and shoulder ached, the blows the woman had landed to her jaw stung sharply. She thought distantly of the night she’d punched Spencer on accident on their anniversary, thinking him an intruder. There would be a trail of bruises left behind for days at least.

“Mama are you okay?” Eliza asked.

Her daughter’s voice brought her back to the present. Bianca nodded carefully, the movement painful. She needed to keep Elizabeth calm and keep them both alive. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He’ll be here soon, okay? He’s gonna come find us and then we’ll go home.” He would find them. He always would. No matter how far apart they were or how lost they felt, they always found each other. They saved each other, that was what they did. He made sure she ate and protected her from her family and came to find her in the woods. She helped him through grief and stayed with him through withdrawal and guarded his heart from the monsters. He would find her.

The dark-haired woman squatted down on the ground beside them. “It’s cute,” she laughed, a sharp and cold sound. “That you have so much faith in a man. Men are nothing but disappointing.”

Bianca had been let down by men in her life plenty of times. Her father, who she was never good enough for. Her brother, who held the knife against her throat. They were the reason she jumped when doors slammed and flinched when someone yelled and ran far away from her problems. But Hotch and Rossi had welcomed her like a daughter, Morgan had loved her with the playful protectiveness of an older brother, Lorenzo had been a friend when she needed one, and Spencer – Spencer was the opposite of everyone who had ever hurt her.

“What do you want from him?” Bianca asked. “Did he arrest you? Put away someone you love?” The woman – the unsub, Bianca was beginning to think of her as – just glared back. “If this is a trap, he’s not going to walk into it,” she said. “He’s too smart for that. No matter what you have planned, he’ll outsmart you. He always does.”

Her husband, the genius. He’d win. He find them.

“I don’t think he’ll outsmart us,” the unsub said. So there were two of them.

“Really? Because if he finds us, you’ll be outnumbered. Is your partner smart? Or just too cowardly to take him on?” Despite her fear she tried to maintain her best lawyer voice, imagining she was cross-examining a difficult witness on the stand rather than a kidnapper with a gun.

“Cat’s not a coward,” the woman snapped. She froze, realizing her slip.

“Cat? You’re working for Cat Adams?” She should’ve known. Who else hated Spencer more than her? The woman who’d nearly taken his wedding ring, his mother, his life. Cat was the reason he’d been gone during her pregnancy, the reason he’d been traumatized in Milburn, and drugged against his will. And Cat was the reason that her little girl was tied up in this warehouse. Feeling fury burn in her chest, Bianca forced herself to smile through the pain. “Then you’re definitely going to lose. Cat never wins. You’ll see.”

There was a smack, and Bianca could feel the slap across her face before she processed it. She winced, biting her lip to hold back a groan. “Shut up!” the unsub shouted. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” She turned and stalked off, slamming the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. Bianca could hear her speaking to someone on the phone.

She leaned down close to Eliza. “Eliza Lou, listen close to me, okay?”

“Okay, mama.”

“Remember how I told you we’re playing a game?” She’d begun this elaborate lie when the unsub grabbed them from the preschool parking lot at gunpoint. It was all a game, and they had to follow all the rules to win. “Well this part of the game is a race. We’re racing to get home. I’m gonna try to untie you, alright? And if I do that, I need you to stay really still and pretend you’re still tied up. But if that woman leaves again, or she’s not paying attention and you can get up without her noticing, I need you to run okay? You get up and you run as fast as you can. You run and run and run until you get outside. And when you do, you go to the first grown up you see, and you tell them my name is Eliza and I’m lost. My dad is Doctor Spencer Reid with the FBI and I need to call him. Do you remember daddy’s phone number?”

Elizabeth recited it perfectly. “Good girl,” Bianca said. “Exactly right. You get them to call daddy, and he’ll come and find you. Okay?”

“What about you, mama?”

“That’s the fun part. We’ll be racing each other home. You and daddy are gonna race me and we’ll see who wins. That’s why you have to be super super fast, okay?”

“Okay!” Eliza smiled up at her, and her heart twisted. She was so young. If they were lucky, she would really think it was all a game – and then she’d forget any of this ever happened. And if they were really lucky, she’d get to see that.

Please, she thought. Please find us, Spencer.

...

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before the door opened and Tara appeared. She sat down next to him, knowing better than to touch him. “I know this is hard,” she said. “But they need you right now.”

The people he loved harder than he’d ever imagined he could love were in danger. And it was all his fault. Cat did this because he loved them. She was hurting them because he loved them. And unless he played her game, it wasn’t going to stop.

“I. Can’t. Lose them.”

“And you’re not going to,” she said. “We won’t let that happen. We all love them, too, Reid. But we can find them a lot faster if you’re helping us. Okay?”

He tried to focus on the sound of Tara’s voice. Tara, who Bianca had taken a liking to immediately, who had gone with the two of them and Penelope to a Doctor Who convention, who had never been one to throw the word love around lightly. “Okay.” He forced himself to stand and follow her to the roundtable room. “Catch me up,” he insisted.

“I just finished talking with Cat,” Emily said. “She wants to go ice skating so she can, and I quote, skate circles around you. When I told her that wasn’t going to happen, she instructed me to tell Garcia to check her email.”

“Which I am doing now…” Garcia said, typing furiously. “Okay, this just came in.” A video popped up on the screen. A dark haired woman was in the center of the image. “Juliette Weaver, she’s Cat’s old cellmate and she just made parole,” she explained. Even before the video started, Bianca and Elizabeth’s faces were visible. Garcia glanced it him, her kind face pained. “Reid, I’m sorry.” She pressed play.

“Here we go,” Juliette said.

“Mama, what’s happening?”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s just a game. Everything’s okay.” Bianca was trying so hard to keep her voice even.

“It’s not a good idea for parents to lie to their children.” Juliette walked over to Bianca, whose hands and feet were bound. The woman aimed a swift kick to her ribs. Bianca’s yelp physically hurt him to hear.

“Eliza, close your eyes. Close your eyes, sweetie!” The little girl did as she was told just in time to avoid seeing her mother take a punch that knocked her over. They all heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh several times, and Bianca’s muffled cries. And then there was a gun in Juliette’s hand.

“No, no, no,” whispered Garcia, turning away from the screen.

“Don’t do this,” Bianca said.

But the gun went off anyways.

“NO!” he screamed. Reid felt his knees give way at the sound of the gun and Bianca’s screams as every face in the room froze in horror.

But then Bianca kept screaming. And then the scream turned to a gasp.

“Mama!”

“It’s okay, I’m okay, everything’s okay.” The video abruptly cut off.

“Blanks,” Luke said, putting his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “She fired blanks.” He could feel the air returns to his lungs. Bianca was still alive – for now. But that video was a clear warning. If he wanted to keep them both alive, he had to do what Cat wanted.

“You realize what we have to do, don’t you?” Rossi asked. Reid looked away, the fury building inside of him once more.“It’s the only way to get her to slip up. We have to give her what she wants.”

 “Me,” Reid said.

[cajunquandary]

The One with Red Sky at Morning

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel

Summary: After a difficult hunt, you and the Winchester brothers want nothing more than to rest. As fate would have it, things don’t go so smoothly.

Warnings: Natural disaster, a little flangsty.

WC: 2300

A/N: This was written for @smol-and-grumpy​ “NAT’S SUPERFRIENDS TITLE CHALLENEGE.” My title was “The One with Red Sky at Morning.” I actually wrote several versions of this but settled on this one. A very similar situation happened to me when I was very young, out hunting with my father deep in the woods of South Georgia. All we had was a four-wheeler and a lot of quick prayers. To this day I don’t know how we made it out alive. Enjoy my first writing back from a three-year hiatus! This might get rough. Suggestions welcome!

Also, sorry not sorry, I was feeling giffy~

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring past a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead, a black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

This must be it, the end.

You stumble sleepily out of the slight motel bathroom and over to the coffee maker. Without so much as peeking, you masterfully load the grounds and water and press the magic button. Oh, how you love that button. Scratchy bedsheets stir behind you, but you pay no attention. A shadow of a smirk creeps across your face. The holy bean water is ready. You take the much-too-small Styrofoam cup with you to sit at the table by the window. Lifting the chalice of your soul to your lips, you inhale as if you’d been starved of oxygen all night. Your eyes gradually open, adjusting easily to the low light of the room. The sweet scent helps to knock the cobwebs from your mind, the warmth radiating from your palms to the depths of your bones.

What a week it’d been. But right now, you don’t want to think of the vamp nest or their victims. Right now, you revel in the tranquility. In the bed near the door, Sam is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, no doubt about to share some coffee with you at the table. On the couch, Dean’s limbs are sprawled in awkward positions, but he still snores gently.

Finally, a smile graces your lips as you watch Dean. He’s so peaceful. There’re no lines on his forehead or forlorn frown below his freckle dusted cheeks. You almost wish he could stay like that forever—at peace. You also wonder what it might be like to touch him, hold him. After the hunt and almost losing him, being more than a few inches away from the man actually hurts. You couldn’t imagine never again seeing those deep, loving eyes, or the way he sings in the car, or dances when he thinks no one is around.

Catching you just before you jump off the deep end into thoughts and memories of Dean, Sam finds his seat next to you. Trying to brush the obvious daydreaming off as nothing, you take a gulp of coffee, only to grimace in pain as it burns all the way down, leaving your upper lip and tongue tingling.

Sam chuckles. “You know it’s hot, right?”

“Yeah, thanks.” And so is something else in the room, you can’t help but to think to yourself.

You set the rude drink upon the table and stand to open the curtains. With a thrust, the stubborn things release and reveal the world outside.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. You stare for a moment just to make sure your eyes aren’t deceiving you. You rub them. You stare a moment more, then rub them again. Red skies morning, sailors take warning.

You look over to Sam, your body rigid.

“What is it, Y/N?”

“Sam, check the weather. Now.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone is the first to sound the alarm, shortly followed by yours and Sam’s.

“It’s a weather alert—severe storms coming,” Sam stood from the table to look outside as well.

Dean groans from the space behind you, “Well then let’s get a move on.”

You don’t even bother getting dressed, instead throwing one of Dean’s old flannels over your thin t-shirt and leggings. Just like your days in EMS, your boots and pack stand ready next to your bed.

Within a minute, everyone slides into the impala, coffee forgotten. As Dean pulls onto the highway, you and Sam map out the fastest way to get home to the bunker with the least amount of bad weather to drive through, looking for a place to stop for food if possible.

Around two hours in, the drive is going decently well, with only a few patches of hail and heavy rain. You begin to doze off to the comforting lull of the Impala and the Allman Brothers.

Your body betrayed you as it twitched violently. Still on edge after the hunt, you jump from the action, accidentally hitting Dean in the shoulder.

“You good?” He glances quickly in your direction, adjusting his hand on the wheel.

Heart beat loud in your ears, you lean back and return a quiet “yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

No rest for the wicked or the hunters, you suppose.

Dean hums along to the music. You are powerless watching the vibration of his neck, wondering what it might be like if your lips were to touch the spot where his pulse rippled the skin. You look down at your phone in an attempt to distract yourself.

Pulling up the weather app, you report the developing spot just up ahead. The brothers take note, then you lean against the window and watch the blur of pine forests and rolling fields. Even overcast, the landscape is breathtaking. You reminisce on your days in the back of the “bus,” what it was like when the tone would drop and in seconds you’d be flying down the road, lights and sirens, mentally preparing for the unknowns waiting for you on the scene. After ten years, there wasn’t much you hadn’t seen. This knowledge and wisdom helped but still couldn’t prepare you when a changeling become your patient.

You catch yourself, not wanting to remember the details of the attack, the ambulance rollover, or the death of your partner. You don’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if the Winchester boys hadn’t shone up when they did, or if you’d stayed in that town after the bodies were found.

Wiping an unwelcome tear from the corner of your eye, you refocus on the trees, enjoying their dances under the influence of wind lines.

Until one fell, bending until it snapped, twisting off halfway. Then another, and another.

“Uh, guys?” When had it gotten so dark? You check your phone for the time again. Almost three in the afternoon.

You don’t need to look behind you to know what it is. You don’t get the chance to tell Dean to floor it—he already is. You grip the seat tightly as the car lurches forward, shaking under the speed and the wind force.

It’s as if an invisible giant is stepping down on the forest on both sides of the highway. Oncoming traffic has ceased, some people have already bailed from their cars, seeking scant shelter in the ditches. Leaves and branches now swirl through the sky, littering the road ahead. Dean takes the next exit, not slowing down a bit.

You are so close to the bunker now, but the echoes of the angry titan behind you threaten to devour the Impala before you even have a chance for safety. You hazard a glance behind you.

No more than a mile behind the racing car, the tornado swallows the whole world, preceded by the biggest cloud of debris you’ve ever seen.

“Faster!” You yell, a shriek threatening to escape your core.

“C’mon, Baby,” Dean prays through gritted teeth, both feet forcing the accelerator to the floor. The speedometer stops measuring after a hundred and twenty. You gulp as the RPMs reach past the point of no return.

“We’re not gonna make it, Dean,” Sam goes pale, breaths quick and shallow, voice breaking as he spoke his brother’s name.

In the rearview mirror, you can just make out beads of sweat tracing the concern lines on Dean’s forehead and the rotating black abyss behind him. You grab onto Sam from the back seat, burying your face into his flannel. Dean’s string of curses is soon overpowered by the ghostly sounds emanating from the beasts on your tail.

The air is hot and electric, raising every hair on end. When you hear the crack, your blood runs cold.

You are covered in glass from the back window, the wind sucking the breath from your lungs. Sam reaches over and pulls you into his lap, holding as tightly as your eyes are shut. Dean masterfully swerves in an out, dodging unknown obstacles and navigating winding roads.

You recognize these turns. The bunker!

Castiel is already perched at the edge of the garage when you open your eyes. Still at full speed, Dean swerves the car inside, causing it to slide sideways and leave thick rubber tracks. Castiel struggles against the wind and grabs Dean as he bails from Baby.

“I can’t close it! We have to take cover, now,” Cas yells over the train whistle screams of the tempest.

Not missing a beat, Sam grabs you and doesn’t even pause to set you down. The alarms in the bunker sound off, competing with the storm.

You all finally tumble through the door and slam it locked behind you. You grunt as your ears pop from the pressure change and rub your jaw.

Heavily breathing from the ordeal, the four of you trade nodding glances, indicating that everyone is okay.

You are the first to break the silence, shaking bits of glass from your shirts. “I need a drink.”

Castiel and Sam follow you down the steps, but stop to sit in the war room. Dean trails on your heels, also eager for a drink. You grab the bottle but keep walking, ready to be in your own bed already.

Dean protests. “Hey, you gonna share?”

“Sure, but you’ll have to follow me.”

Once in your room, you take a long draught from the already open bottle of whiskey, then turn and hand it to Dean.

“Close your eyes, Winchester.”

Dean does as told, bottle already suspended at his lips.

You pause for a moment to admire those lips and the way they purse when he swallows. It catches your breath but you turn away, stripping the glass-ridden clothes into a pile on the floor. You curse under your breath as you realize the clothes that other than the ones still in the car, the rest were in the laundry room, several wings down.

You grab a pillow to shield yourself just in time as Dean opens his eyes to see what the matter is. He apologizes quickly and turns away. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes.”

Without hesitation, he shrugs the shirt from his shoulders and extends it in your direction.

“Thanks.” You are so glad that his eyes are still averted so he can’t see your red face, the blush stretching through your whole body. You quickly slip inside the shirt and bottom it, thankful that it reaches nearly to your knees. You pause at the collar, lifting it to your nose and nearly fall as the heady scent of him fills your senses. Dean, standing now, catches you just in time, closer to you than ever before. His hands rest gently at your sides, and he chuckles sweetly as he leans in to kiss your hair. The whiskey still warming your bones, you wrap your arms around him, interlocking your fingers and burying your face into his bare chest. He pulls you in tighter, squeezing.

The stress of almost losing him on the hunt to that fang and of nearly becoming flying sky trash slowly falls away within the shelter of his embrace. He leans onto the bed and back farther, taking you with him until you’re both under the blankets completely intertwined.

The dim light provided by a small lamp in the corner casts just enough shadow that you can count the freckles dusted on Dean’s cheeks and get lost in the hazel green folds of his eyes. Could this really be happening? Is the hunter you’d be pining for silently for over a year really holding you this closely—in your own bed?

Your breath mixes with his when he leans in even closer and brushes your lips with his. You close your eyes and relish in the warmth and comfort and safety of his arms, the softness and taste of his lips, stubble grazing your chin.

You can still perceive faint sounds of the raging storm outside, but you have no more fear. You pull away slightly to enjoy the sweet smile on Dean’s face until a passing shadow crosses it.

An elated “finally” can be heard near the doorway. Sam winks and closes the door, retreating footsteps resonating down the hall.

A new storm blooms in your core as you surrender yourself to the ease of being so close to Dean. Together, you trade secrets and promises in the intimate moments before slowly falling asleep to the comfort of his voice.

Red skies morning, sailors take warning. Red skies night, sailors delight.

With the red flashes of the bunker floodlights filling the air, you did certainly delight, safe at last. Any wreckage could wait until morning.

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[fangirlandiknowit101]

Based on this post, with the idea by @itachiscatears, a very unhinged possible epilogue to The sun within me where Naruto collects all the Sasukes, because why wouldn’t he?? 

Under a cut bc it ended up long. To put it simply, Sasuke suffers. Naruto lives in Sasuke-filled heaven for two (2) weeks until Sasuke comes back and ruins all his dreams (or something like that)

Rated T probably to be safe

______________________________________

Sasuke returns from his trip, and all thoughts are immediately erased from his head as he enters the Uchiha compound, finding it full of copies of himself.

Has Naruto finally gone off the deep end and decided to surround himself by clones transformed into Sasuke? He catches the eye of another Sasuke passing by, and this version of him is wearing glasses.

“Hello,” glasses-Sasuke says as he reaches him. “Are you new? I thought Naruto started out by introducing everyone, but you seem like you wandered in here by yourself.”

“I…”

He’s speechless. Actually speechless. He considers yelling Naruto’s name at the top of his lungs, because either he’s playing a bad prank on him, or this person standing in front of him is really another version of him. Was Charasuke not enough?!

“Where the hell did you come from?” he asks, and glasses-him pushes the glasses up his nose, sniffing at him.

“Another dimension.”

The obviously is left implied.

“I’m a scientist,” is added, and then he turns halfway to shout at someone. “Oi, Friendly Sasuke! Would you come over here, please?”

Sasuke stares, and stares a little more as another Sasuke walks over with a happy grin on his face. Even knowing Charasuke, it’s unsettling to look at.

“Sure, what’s up, Researcher Sasuke?”

Sasuke – the real Sasuke, that is, although he is starting to doubt the reality of things – glares at both of them.

“Where’s Naruto?” he demands, fists clenching and unclenching in anger.  

“Pretty sure he’s still at the Hokage tower,” Friendly Sasuke replies, giving him a pleasantly questioning look. “Is he new? He seems kind of similar to Avenger Sasuke. Bad temper, I mean.”

“Oh!” Researcher Sasuke taps his lips, scrutinizing Sasuke as one might scrutinize a lab experiment. “Maybe this is the Sasuke of this world? Naruto said he’d be coming back soon.”

Telling himself firmly that Naruto (and Charasuke, too) would be upset with him if he started killing versions of himself, Sasuke takes a deep breath and flickers out of sight, heading for the Hokage tower.

“Sasuke!” Naruto greets him with, a beaming smile on his face as he holds his arms out from behind his office desk.

As if Sasuke would run into his arms. As if he didn’t already have another version of him standing by the desk, glaring sullenly at Sasuke.

“You,” Sasuke hisses out from between clenched teeth. “Explain.”

Naruto chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ah, well, you see, I was talking to Charasuke if maybe there could be other dimensions, and maybe there would also be other versions of us there? And so, guess what? There is!”

Perhaps Sasuke should go on another trip. A year-long one. He’ll pretend for a moment that he won’t miss the dumb idiot, and that he hadn’t spent most of this trip looking forward to coming back home to him.

“And what, I repeat, what, are they all doing in the Uchiha district? I leave you alone for two weeks and this is how desperate-“

The edge of a katana is pointed at his throat, fast enough that Sasuke can’t finish speaking, but slow enough that he deems it’s not a serious attempt on his life. The other Sasuke’s eyes bore into his, a little unhinged.

“Maybe you shouldn’t leave him alone,” this barely restrained version of him says.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Naruto says, slowly walking over to delicately push the other Sasuke’s katana down. “I know you like violence, Avenger Sasuke, but we’ve talked about this.”

Again, Sasuke is speechless. Naruto pouts at the other Sasuke until he sheaths his katana with a huff, still eyeing him with suspicion. He never acted like that, did he?

(Okay fine, he did. But still.)

“Return them,” he grits out, just as the door to the Hokage’s office slams open and several copies enter the room.

“Now, he really can’t do that,” Researcher Sasuke informs him, shaking out a long scroll and glancing over the contents. “You see, the Uchiha district is now a booming economy, restoring the wealth of the Uchiha clan, which was unjustly usurped by this village. Without us, this village will collapse.”

He does not like the sound of this. His eyes find Naruto, who clears his throat with a sheepish look on his face.

“Don’t worry,” another Sasuke says, wearing pastel-colored clothing and chewing loudly on something as he speaks. There are obnoxious sun glasses on top of his messy hair. “It’s cool. We like it here.”

“See?” Naruto pleads with him, attempting an innocent look. “There’s even a Ramen Chef Sasuke! His ramen is to die for, you have to try it!”

“I’d rather die,” Sasuke mutters, contemplating escape. Two weeks. He wonders what the kyuubi’s opinion is on this madness.

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that,” Naruto says, moving closer and clearly aiming for a hug, possibly a kiss.

Sasuke’s dignity will not allow it.

“You are not allowed to touch me or even think about touching me until they’re all gone,” he spits out, taking a few steps back. “You can sleep here in the office.”

“Or with me,” Friendly Sasuke suggests.

“I think it was Stripper Sasuke’s turn tonight,” Researcher Sasuke points out.

Well, that’s it. He’s out of here.

Naruto calls after him as he leaves through the window, but no one tries to stop him. Naruto prefers the stripper version of him? Fair enough. He’ll let them have fun while he…

Ends up moping in a bar, Sakura giving him pitying looks.

“I tried to stop him,” she says again, for the umpteenth time. “Told him you’d be unhappy.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Another pitying look, and he’s starting to feel tired down to the bone. Why, oh why, did he decide to dedicate his life to this absolute moron? This imbecile? This Sasuke-obsessed nutcase? He can’t even bring himself to feel surprised, just resigned.

“I have to admit though, they’ve done a lot to improve the economy. Some versions of you are terribly smart. There’s even a doctor one, he’s teaching me-“

Sasuke gives her a look, and she promptly shuts up. Maybe that version of him is straight and they can live happily ever after. He. Does. Not. Care.

Someone wanders over to their table, pausing until Sasuke tilts his head up. He’s been resting it against the tabletop, for reasons. It is, of course, another version of him. Just really old. Like, older than he ever imagined he’d become.

“I heard you are this Naruto’s Sasuke,” he says in a gravelly voice, cane gripped tight in one gnarled hand. “This must all be terribly confusing to you.”

Another understatement. The old him clears his throat, and Sakura rushes up to get him a chair. He sinks down on it with a heavy sigh, placing the cane over his lap and peering at Sasuke with too knowing eyes.

“We are all here of our free will,” he states, as if Sasuke is included in that. He’s no longer sure he is. “In my case, I lost my Naruto to old age, which inevitably awaits us all, if we are lucky.”

As sad as that is, Sasuke won’t offer him any sympathy.

“Some came out of curiosity, some came because their Naruto is unavailable. Some came because Naruto asked them to. I think it unsettles him to know that there are few other universes where the two of us live together in true happiness.”

“Maybe he just entered your dimensions at the wrong point in time,” Sasuke surprises himself by saying, raising an eyebrow at the old man. “I mean, if you at least had a long life together…”

He receives a thoughtful nod for his comment.

“Maybe he found us at a time when we most miss his presence. Researcher Sasuke, for example, is studying in another country. He’s convinced that all the data shows that his Naruto is not interested.”

“Not my problem.”

Sakura kicks him under the table.

“Either way, none of you belong here,” he adds, grimacing at the thought that Naruto would be attracted to this wrinkly old version of him. “How long do you plan to stay, anyway?”

Old Sasuke smiles sweetly at him. It’s terrifying.

“Oh, I for one don’t mind staying for the rest of my life. This young Naruto is so invigorating.”

Sasuke cannot deal with this. He does not deserve this. He stands up and leaves, stalking out of the bar and out of the village and doesn’t stop until he’s an hour away and Naruto pops into existence next to him, using the damn mark still on the nape of his neck.

“Are you leaving?” Naruto asks, looking alarmed. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Does it matter?” It’s unfair of him to ask, but Naruto is seriously testing his patience. “You’ve got your harem to entertain you.”

“It’s not a harem,” Naruto splutters, waving his arms around wildly. “It’s just-“

Sasuke waits, crossing his arms.

“I, uh, may have a slight problem,” Naruto confesses, nervously tapping his hands together. “You see, I just wanted to check on us in the other dimensions, but then I was noticed, and then you, well a version of you, convinced me to find more of you, it was just for research-“

Oh, Researcher Sasuke is going to die a gruesome death.

“And then suddenly! There were so many of you! And things were kind of happening!”

“You’re an idiot,” Sasuke tells him, but he can’t stay angry at Naruto.

Of course, Naruto knows this, and his hopeful little smile is entirely too effective. Sasuke closes his eyes and groans, listlessly holding out his arms, just enough that Naruto takes it as an invitation. He launches himself at Sasuke, clinging to him like a monkey, burying his face in Sasuke’s neck.

“I missed you,” he mutters, and it’s the final blow to Sasuke’s defenses.

He wraps his arms around Naruto, telling himself he’s definitely going to make him pay for this, just later.

“You’re taking them all back tomorrow morning at the latest,” he scolds Naruto, who lets out a muffled noise of complaint. “Either they leave or I do.”

It’s an empty threat, but Naruto still stiffens in his hold.

“Fine,” he huffs, lowering his legs until he’s at least supporting his own weight. “But… what about Grandpa Sasuke? Can we keep him?”

Sasuke pushes him away, ignoring the betrayed look on his face.

“No.”

“But he’s so nice! And harmless! And his Naruto is already dead!”

“I am not sharing you.”

Wait. That’s not what he meant to say. Naruto blinks up at him from where he’s sprawled on the ground, mouth open like a fish. Then his eyes fill with glee, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Ooh, you were jealous,” he teases, and Sasuke turns his back on him. “You were! Admit it! You want me all to yourself, because you love me soooo much-“

One of these days, Sasuke tells himself silently as Naruto continues to blabber on about how Sasuke still needs to learn how to communicate, and obviously Naruto loves him the most, he just can’t help but wonder if maybe Sasuke could be a little nicer to him, learn a ramen recipe or two…

Yeah, one of these days, for sure, he’ll knock some sense into Naruto. But not today.

Clearly, not today.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Hijan”

This is all my brain wanted to write today, so you guys are gonna have to take this trip with me lol. Those of you who liked the language will probably like this, and if you don’t, don’t worry. Translation is provided. 

The stone underneath my feet is hot and hard, The rays of the sun are blistering, and the metal sticks I keep getting clobbered over the head with hurt…. A lot

Yeah, surprise surprise, I got myself into the Drev clan. Turns out that I don’t exactly speak as well as I thought I did, so it took more than a little convincing to get their clan leader to allow me in. Luckily he knew of me at the very least and decided it would be an interesting experiment to see how tough humans really are. 

Honestly, I think it was an excuse to watch the clan children beat the snot out of me.

I mean to be fair to myself, I am pretty sure I could win in a fight if the situation called for it, but come on these are kids, I can’t hit them.

Why am I fighting kids you ask?

Well because I am about as tall as the kids. With Drev growing anywhere from seven to ten feet tall, you can imagine that their kids are rather monstrous. These little beasts are about as tall as I am and way more vicious. And when I say vicious, I mean vicious. 

Their clan leader seems amused at my pain.

This guy is called the Lodnajasta which roughly translates to “the one who watches” or something like that. Sunny calls them Sentinels. Drev clans are made up of a couple inner hierarchies . Their religious leader, their military leader, and a council of elder clan members who give their opinions on stuff.

They didn’t seem to pleased on me being here, but the Sentinel seemed to want to settle something once and for all.

It seems as if he was being proven right.

I hit the ground hard shoulder smarting and roll to the side as the little cretin charges after me. This one is bright neon green, and he seems intent on taking my head off. He might succeed too. As he charges me, I see a potential opening to hit him, but at the last moment I pull my punch. I can’t just hit the kid.

He doesn't have the same qualms, and I get plowed into the ground with a shoulder check.

Volcanic rock grates under my arms and knees as I hit the ground.

“Tizhitan, Tanana.” The sentinel says crouching just outside the circle to mock me.

He’s been saying that all day, which means it’s a word I learned pretty fast: shameful. 

Tanana is my new nickname apparently, means alien.

Either that or Kazga, which I have determined is actually some kind of curse word along the same lines as moron, but with connotations more along the line of rude words a human may used to describe someone as mentally disabled. It is a pretty serious insult, and he only uses it on me when I have been a real idiot.

“Nizish, Tanana ,ee zheengish.” Stand up and fight

I slowly crawl to my feet hurting, “I can’t fight them, they’re kids.”

“dazhit .”

He’s insulting me again.

Pretty sure that one is like calling me a bitch, though it probably has some other unknown meaning.

“Look. I’m sorry but where I am from we don’t hit kids.”

He looks amused. The kids don’t understand what I am saying, but I can hear them jeering at my back with words like dazhit, tanana and Kazga. I don’t know where their parents are, but I would consider washing their mouths out with soap.

“Juhkee tsa zhe tehish zheengat.”

I pretty sure I heard the words fight me in there.

I would argue with him, but I dug myself into this hole. I should have just shut up and clobbered the kid in the head, but no, instead i opted to get my ass beat.

“Yid.” I respond a bit sullenly, and with chirps of glee, the children gather around the circle as their leader sets down his spear and steps inside.

“Tsa zhalish tahajeea.” I say pointing to his armor. Hardly seems far that I don’t even get a shirt, or shoes for that matter. It was a fight just to keep my pants especially when he pointed out that they don’t wear clothing.

I never considered that until now, and somehow it made things weird. 

He was naked except for armor, and I was only wearing pants, and with him towering over me I became suddenly aware of how tall he was, about nine feet tall if anyone is asking, which made him about three feet taller than yours truly. 

As much time as I spend with sunny, sometimes I forget how big drev are supposed to be even considering that her brother is absolutely monstrous.

He just grins at me, or at least the Drev version of a grin.

You can see it mostly in their eyes, a sort of grim malevolence that lets you know they have no trouble beating the shit out of you.

excellent .

I have to crane my neck back to look up at him.

“Aleshash!” 

It took me a moment to figure out what the word meant, and by the time I had figured it out, the fight was already over.

He hit me so hard I felt a rib crack, and that was before I went sprawling across the dirt and out of the circle coming to rest at the feet of the young Drev face down in the moss gasping for air and unable to breathe through the pain.

The children chirped/ laughed whatever you call it.

I hurt.

I feel the sentinel’s shadow fall over me as he kneels down at my side, “ tsa dzhalal neh dakish zheengat, dit tsa dzhalakak tazheengish.”  You are not ready to fight drev, so you will fight children.

I groan ribs burning.

The children continue to laugh and the sentinel walks off.

The kids trail behind him.

I lay on the dirt with my face in the moss and wish that I had just decided to stay home. Things had been rough for me lately, but I am beginning to wonder why I thought it was a good idea to come out here and make my life harder.

Sunny had told me about her past, how she was treated for being small, how she was considered to be a cripple and a liability to her clan.

Now here i was an actual cripple and a real liability.

What did I think I was doing? 

“Tsa jirhash?”

I turn my head looking up to find the face of a very, very old drev. I can tell she is old because the color of her carapace. It darkens as the Drev age, and hers was almost brown, leaning towards black/ She is bent over, lost at least two feet of height, but still she stands with some measure of dignity.

I blink at her.

“Ya hurt?” She asks 

I am taken aback a bit surprised to hear english coming form the mouth of a drev. I knew it was possible for them to produce some of our sounds, but sunny and I had never tried./

“I uh…. Zha neh rekazi/”

She looks me over with a critical eye, and before I can do much of anything, she reaches out and just, picks me up, like I weigh nothing, like she would hold a child. To be fair, even as stooped as she is, she’s about nine feet tall, which makes me think she would have been much taller in her youth.

I wince against the pain as she carries me away.

The sun is beginning to set and the sky has become a bright shade of pink. The rest of the clan has either gone inside though a few of the adults remain speaking and conversing with each other towards the head of the village.

She carries me in the opposite direction to a small hut on the outskirts of the village. She has to duck through the door, but once inside there is enough room.

She sets me down at the far end where the moss is thick.

The hut has a pleasant smell, though I cannot describe what it is.

I grit my teeth past the pain as I slowly sit up.

“Lod tsa?” I ask. I think I remember seeing her during that first meeting, but I don’t remember who she is. 

“Zha Hijan” 

I frown in confusion Hijan means beautiful or colorful so…. Oh wait, drev often use adjectives as names. Like sunny or noble.

I forgot.

“Tsaee tsa lanish zha?” 

“Tsaee tsa zha lanish/” She corrects. Oh I forget they have a different sentence structure.

“Uh… Yeah, why are you helping me?” i repeat 

“Dzhalka lana gingazh.” Something…. Need help

I frown.

Dzhalka, wait, doesn’t that mean baby or small child.

“Hold on, I am not a child.” 

She gives me a knowing look, “Tsa jee.” You’re not?

“No. I’m not. On my planet I am a fully grown adult human. Look I honestly do thank you for helping me with the hospitality and all. But I think you might be confused.”

Her eyes scrunch together in the way that Drev have when they smile, “ tsa tsatse jekish.” 

“Trying to find myself? Why would you think that?”

“Tsa dadzhatatal najish ee daeen dahajish. Kaan dzhalka lod dazha neh rekazash.”

I shook my head in confusion, “I left home…. Only children don’t know who they are….” I’m confused.

“tsa Tsatse neh rekazish.”

“I know who I am ok, I just…. I needed to get out for a while and figure myself out….” I paused 

She smiled 

I sighed.

Well I had really put my foot in my mouth on that one. She walked over and handed me a piece of the pink orb fruit, and I took it gratefully and bit into it. It was sweet, so I assumed it was ripe. It made my mouth hurt with how sweet it was.

The old Drev moved about the hut doing various tasks and clicking at me when I tried to get up.

At one point she even pointed a spear in my direction making it pretty clear that I was to stay down.

I did as told resting back against the moss. 

So it looks like I had been adopted by an old drev granny named Hijan who was under the impression I was her new child….

That was 

unexpected .

But I supposed I could roll with this.

It was nice to have a place to stay.

I fell asleep sometime later woken up during the night only to find her asleep to my right curled up in the way a mother might while letting her child rest. One of her hands rested very close to my back.

Ok weird, but….. Comforting 

And I had no trouble falling asleep for the rest of the night. 

[mint-yooxgi]

{3} - Obsession

Yandere AU - Part of the EXO Obsession Series

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: EXO OT9 X Reader (with a particular focus on X-EXO)

Words: 3,500

Warnings: This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So work was really slow the other day so I actually had time to write, and thanks to two of my coworkers, the next chapter was born! I’m super excited to show you guys what I have planned for this series, especially in later chapters, but as of now, I'm just building things up. I hope you enjoy, and as always, feedback is always appreciated!

Previous ~ Next

“They were in your apartment?” Baekhyun nearly shrieks, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Yes,” you reply calmly with a brief nod of your head.

Currently, it’s the morning after the clones had come to visit you at your apartment, and you’ve just finished relaying the most important details the clones had told you to your team. You’ve chosen to omit some things for the time being until you can get a better read on your strike team. However, from the looks of things, they’re not taking things too well, especially the six members of your strike team.

“Why didn’t you call us?” Jongin asks, Minseok nodding right along with him while they both send a concerned look your way.

“Like I already told you,” you sigh, repressing the urge to roll your eyes, “I handled it.”

“Still, why did you wait until now to tell us?” Junmyeon inquires, frown evident on his face.

“You’re even lucky I’m telling you guys this at all,” you retort, eyes narrowing slightly at all of them. “I could have simply said they left me a message, which they technically did do.”

You can see Junmyeon’s frown deepen, scowls appearing on Sehun, Baekhyun, and Chanyeol’s faces. None of them like the idea of you being alone with their clones, especially in your own apartment. You notice Jongdae’s brow furrowed in concentration out of the corner of your eyes, as well as Jongin looking at you with worry still evident in his eyes.

“So then, what are we going to do? Or more importantly,” Yixing turns to look into your eyes, brow creasing slightly in concern, “what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?” You question, quirking a brow at him in response.

“Clearly they know where you live, and they can get into your apartment without issue,” Sehun starts to say, leaning forwards in his seat to rest his elbows on his thighs. “So that raises the question of where are you going to be staying for the time being?”

Sharing a brief glance with Kyungsoo, you notice him nod his head ever so subtly in your direction. You fail to notice the hopeful looks shining in your strike team’s eyes, but none as apparent as Junmyeon’s, Baekhyun’s, and Jongin’s. Jongdae subtly bites the corner of his lip in anticipation, waiting to be the first out of all of them to offer up his place as a safe house for you during this time.

“She’ll be staying with me,” Kyungsoo says, breaking the brief tense silence that has been building since Sehun posed the question. You notice their eyes widening in surprise, but none are as wide as Junmyeon’s.

You find yourself nodding along with Kyungsoo’s words in confirmation. He’s the only one out of your entire team that knows that you have your own separate living quarters outside of the apartment that the company has assigned to you. Plus, he’s the one you feel the closest to out of all your team members, even more so than Minseok and Yixing. 

He’s the only one you’ve trusted enough to actually bring to your real house, so only he knows where it is. During times like this, where a situation arises in which you need to hide away from your own apartment, the two of you have a mutual agreement with each other where he’ll cover for you. Hence you ‘staying’ with him at ‘his’ house.

“Excuse me?” Baekhyun manages to choke out, blinking a few times in disbelief. He can’t seem to catch a break from surprises today, first with the news that his clone, along with the others, had been alone with you in your apartment last night, and now you’ll be staying with Kyungsoo of all people for your protection. He grits his teeth slightly in frustration, for he knows if it came down to it, he’d be the one who would be able to protect you.

“Perfect,” you nod, “it’s settled.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this first?” Junmyeon voices, slight panic evident in the way his voice is a pitch higher than usual, causing your eyebrow to quirk in surprise.

“We just did,” you respond, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Considering it’s your clones that we’re dealing with, it would make the most sense for me not to stay with one of you six. The last thing any of us needs is for one of your clones showing up at your own house looking for us. That would be much worse, now, wouldn’t it?”

Though they seem to all scowl at the thought in distaste, they all reluctantly agree with your reasoning.

“I suppose so,” Jongdae grumbles, letting out a small sigh in the next moment as he leans back onto the chair he’s sitting on, running his fingers through his hair. He’s racking his brain to come up with a better solution, preferably one that allows you to stay with him for the time being. So far, he’s come up with nothing, which frustrates him to no end.

“Speaking of our clones,” Chanyeol adds, “what are we going to do about them then?”

At his words, all eyes turn to you. You let out a sigh, rubbing the side of your face with your hand. However, before you can speak, Sehun is beating you to the punch.

“Well, clearly we have to destroy them,” he says, Jongin nodding right along with him. “If what you told us is true, both ‘versions’ of us cannot survive in the end, so our number one priority, after making sure you’re safe, is destroying our clones.”

“I second that,” Chanyeol hums, nodding along with the others.

“What are we going to do if they show up again?” Baekhyun asks, crossing his arms while leaning against the wall he’s standing near. “Or worse, here?”

“We should have a plan just in case that happens,” Junmyeon agrees. “Even if they confront us by themselves in our own homes, I think it would be beneficial if we alerted everyone immediately.”

“I agree,” Jongdae voices his thoughts. “As soon as you can, alert the others. Especially since we don’t know what our clones are fully capable of yet. Besides, some of us might be able to handle ourselves better than the others, and we can use all the backup we can get in the event of an emergency.”

“Contacting each other and keeping all of us updated will be one of our most important methods of protection, as well as making sure we can respond properly and swiftly to a situation if it does arise,” Junmyeon continues, to which you voice your agreement.

“In the event that they do show up here, we need to make sure to act quickly,” you say, eyes sharp and calculating as you look each one of them over. “Strike them down before they can strike you.”

You can tell that they’re all taken aback by your words and how serious you sound. No question, nor hesitation in your voice.

“She’s right,” Jongdae is the first to break the silence that’s settled over all of you. “We’re going to have to kill them eventually if we want to live. It’s not like they’re us anyways.”

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. If these clones really are made from a part of them, and share the same memories and feelings, he’s not quite sure just how different they really are. The only difference right now that he can tell is that his clone is not afraid to go after what he wants. But just how far is he willing to go?

“Exactly,” you confirm. “If they’re going to basically be doing the exact same thing every time they encounter you from now on, then it would be beneficial for all of us to strike first.”

A small silence settles over the ten of you as you let this information sink in. You can tell the six members of your strike team are tense, thinking over what has just been decided, and confronted by having to face themselves to the death. 

You let out a long exhale through your nose, not too sure how to raise their morale at the moment, for you need some time to figure out their real feelings for you. The last thing you want to do is to make things more complicated than they are. You need to find out the truth, and fast.

“You know, I never thought I’d ever have to face myself in battle,” Sehun jokes, breaking the tense silence as he chuckles, along with Chanyeol.

“Well, you know what they say,” Minseok sighs. “You’re your own worst enemy.”

“Hope you guys can handle yourselves,” Kyungsoo hums amusedly, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I know I can,” Baekhyun smirks smugly.

“Yeah, sure,” Jongin scoffs, rolling his eyes slightly. “Says the guy who just fell flat on his ass this morning coming down the stairs.”

You laugh, an amused grin coming to rest on your features as you turn to see the tips of Baekhyun’s ears turning red from embarrassment.

“I slipped,” Baekhyun attempts to defend himself.

“Uh-huh, sure you did,” Chanyeol grins.

You continue to chuckle as the three of them continue to bicker back and forth. You’re grateful for the small shift in conversation, for it seems to be relieving the previous tension which had settled over all of you. You can feel yourself calming down slowly, grateful to have the weight of the previous evening lessoned, even if it’s only slightly.

Despite appearing much more calm on the outside, you’re still very worried. You know you’ll have to talk with the members of your strike team separately, away from the others, but you’re not exactly sure how you should go about doing that. You’ve always went with a direct approach when dealing with tough situations, but you’re not sure if they’ll be fully honest with you if you do so this time around. Still, it doesn’t hurt to try.

“I still want to talk with all of you individually to make sure that we’re all on the same page,” you make a point to catch the eyes of your strike team, noticing how a few of them tense under your gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say both Chanyeol and Jongin look nervous. “Who wants to go first?”

Both Junmyeon and Jongdae stand up at the same time, causing your brow to quirk in surprise. However, with one quick look from Junmyeon, Jongdae reluctantly sits back down, letting out a quiet sigh as he does so.

“As for the rest of you, dismissed until I call for you,” you tell them, already making your way out of the briefing room and towards your office which resides near the back of the compound.

Junmyeon follows closely behind, making sure to keep pace with you on the way to your office. He bites the inside of his cheek, nervous for what you want to talk to him about, for he’s sure you all covered everything in the meeting you’ve all just had. Unless his clone did something that you’ve opted to exclude in your retelling of last night’s events.

Shutting the door behind himself once you’ve both entered your office, he turns to face you. He notices how you’re casually leaning against the front of your desk, motioning with your head for him to sit in one of your two chairs which rest in front of you. 

“What is it you wanted to discuss?” He asks, taking a seat in the chair on his left, the chair that just so happens to be the closest to you at the moment.

You let out a sigh, closing your eyes briefly as you tilt your head downwards, “look, I know this is a pretty fucked up situation, but do you have any idea why your clone in particular would be coming after me?”

He freezes momentarily, breath lodging in his throat, “I’m not sure.”

“Oh?” You shift your gaze to his, analyzing his every move.

“Must be a side effect of the spell,” he continues, his dead heart racing in his chest. He may be a vampire, but you are one of the only things that actually have an effect on him.

“Must be,” you mutter, crossing your arms once more in front of your chest. 

“Is that all?” He asks, wanting to get out of this situation as soon as possible. The longer he stays in your office, the less control over his thoughts he has, especially due to the situation you’re both in. Usually, he loves being in your office, for he can revel in your scent which covers every inch of the space. However, he can’t seem to enjoy it as thoroughly this time around, for he doesn’t want to get too distracted and risk saying something that might give his feelings for you away. His real feelings.

“Junmyeon,” you notice the way his jaw twitches when you say his name, “is there anything you’d like me to know that might help us in this situation?”

“I just want you to be safe,” he replies after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “Anyways, that’s all for now. If you find out anything else, make sure to let us know. I’m trusting you, considering you are my second in command. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you guys.”

The sincerity in your voice causes a small smile to tug at his lips, “give us a little bit more credit, we’ll be fine.”

You send a weak smile back, “dismissed.”

With that, he stands up from the chair. Before he exits your office, he pauses briefly to send one final look to you from over his shoulder. So badly he wants to wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything will be okay, that he’ll always be there to protect you. However, he knows that it would be inappropriate for him to do so at this time, especially since he can’t even confess to you that he sees you as more than just his captain. As more than just a friend.

Walking down the hallway he decides that he’s going to work on tracking these clones down, and prove to you that he can always be there for you, to protect you. He wants to make sure that he’s doing whatever he can to impress you, too. He might need a little help from the others, but he knows he can run this operation smoothly, and earn your affections by doing so. He’ll show you that he’s worthy to be your man.

The rest of your one on one meetings with the others go pretty much exactly the same way as Junmyeon’s did. None of your strike team admits to anything that you’ve come to assume or learn about them. Jongin and Chanyeol both seemed close to cracking, but held their own in the end. Turns out this might be harder than you originally thought, but if you ever run into their clones again, maybe you can get some more information out of them instead.

Gathering your things to head home for the evening, you let out a frustrated sigh. The good news is that you all have a general consensus and plan for fighting these clones if they were to attack any one of your team members. However, given what you know, and still have yet to find out, you’re not too sure if you’d actually go through with attacking them first. You’d rather get as much information out of them as you can for the time being, that way you can come up with a better way to not only combat them, but understand and deal with the originals as well.

A soft knock on your office door manages to break you out of your thoughts.

“Come in,” you say, not really paying attention to who enters the room.

“You okay?” Kyungsoo’s voice catches your attention, looking up to see him already staring at you with concern etched onto his features.

“Yeah, just a bit frustrated, is all,” you shoot him a tight smile, letting out a puff of air as you sling your bag over your shoulder. Noticing the look he’s sending you, you let out a sigh, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

“Ready to go then?” He asks, seeing you nod your head in response.

Walking over to him, he holds the door open for you. Flicking off the lights, you walk past him into the hallway, hearing the door to your office fall shut as he catches up to you and matches your pace. He doesn’t say anything as the two of you make your way to the underground parking and towards his car, of which you couldn’t be more grateful. Once you’re safe in his car and making you way out of the garage, you find yourself letting out a groan.

“What would you do if you knew the truth about something, but no one would tell you about it?” You voice your thoughts, knowing that you can trust Kyungsoo enough to give you an honest opinion and also keep your conversation a secret.

“Is this about the clones?” He eyes you curiously from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you run a hand through your hair before jumping into the full explanation about what had really transpired last night, telling him specifically how the clones acted near the end of your encounter.

He lets out a low whistle, “based on what you’re telling me, and from what we know about the clones already, it sounds to me like your strike team all has the hots for you, with their own little unique quirks.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, but I can’t be too sure since they’ve never shown signs of being interested in me romantically, nor have they admitted to it,” you say, turning your head to look at him.

“Still, I’d be cautious with how you act around them now, and especially with what you say,” he says, turning onto the highway to get to your place. “The last thing you need is for the team to fall apart.”

“Gee, thanks for the encouragement,” you deadpan. “No pressure or anything.”

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes. “We both know you can handle it. Do your best to gather more information from the clones, and once you have enough information, confront the originals. Who knows, something may end up happening that works in your favour.”

“Look at you, rooting for me to get some romance in my life in times of crisis,” a teasing smirk pulling at your lips.

“Always,” he grins right back before becoming serious in the next second, “but you know that if they ever tried anything to hurt you I’d end them. No hesitation.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you chuckle, “I know.”

“If anything happens, make sure you call me first,” he goes on to say.

“Well, considering you’re the only one who actually knows where I live,” you joke. “Speaking of, what are you going to do if one of them shows up at your place wanting to talk with me?”

“Simple,” he responds. “I’ll just tell them you’re out, or at the gym, or on a walk, or at the compound, or sleeping, or-“

“Okay, I get it!” You grin, shaking your head slightly in amusement. “You’ll just make up some excuse and cover for me.”

“Exactly,” he replies, nodding his head in confirmation. “Besides, if it’s really urgent, they’d call you.”

“That’s true,” you confirm. “At least I’d hope so.”

“They will,” he assures you. “I don’t think I’ve seen them have as much respect for anyone else as they do for you. They’ll respect your wishes, and just like me, will do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe. Though, I don’t think I’m as paranoid as they are about leaving you by yourself.”

“Which I am thankful for,” you shoot him a look, grin tugging on your lips once more.

Pulling off of the highway, Kyungsoo begins to take the backroads to get to your house which rests in the middle of the woods, hidden by all the trees surrounding it. Once he pulls up to your front door, you thank him for driving you, and proceed to make your way inside your house, watching as his car disappears behind the trees.

You’re happy to be home, though you wish it were under better circumstances. Unlocking the door, you’re quick to turn off your alarm and toss your bag onto the bench you keep by the front door. 

Shutting and locking your front door shortly afterwards, you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief. At least you know there aren’t any surprises waiting for you in your living room tonight. Well, you sure hope there’s none.