#i had to run out three times to deal with the trash that had blown over

[vera-dauriac]

It is beyond cold, so I'm watching Roberto Devereux under a fuzzy blankie and planning to make some spiked coffee soon. It's all about making the best of the situation.

[solxamber]

Crisis Averted - Cater Diamond x reader

After a royal screw up, Cater is left scrambling trying to fix his mistake before you find out. Best part? You've known what he did from the start and you think it's hilarious.

It started out as a normal day. Sun shining, birds chirping, and Cater Diamond doing what Cater Diamond does best—being charming, taking selfies, and generally vibing. But today? Today was different. Today, something bad had happened. And Cater was in full-on crisis mode trying to fix it.

The problem? He’d accidentally erased an entire folder of your saved photos. Not just any folder, either—the one with all your most treasured memories. Birthday celebrations, vacations, goofy selfies of the two of you, everything. Gone. Deleted. Kaput.

Now, to most people, that might not seem like a big deal. But Cater knew better. Those pictures? They were important to you. You loved looking through them on rough days, getting lost in nostalgia, and reliving all those sweet moments. And now? Now they were digital dust, and he was freaking out.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…” Cater muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth in his room. He tugged at his hair, his phone in one hand as he furiously scrolled through every possible "how to recover deleted photos" forum. “I am so dead…”

What Cater didn’t realize, however, was that you already knew. In fact, you’d known from the start. He wasn’t exactly subtle, and after the fifth time he started texting you, only to delete the message before you could read it, you had a pretty good idea that something was up. Honestly? It was kind of… cute. Watching him scramble to fix things like that, his usual cool and carefree attitude unraveling right before your eyes.

You decided to sit back and let the chaos unfold.

Meanwhile, Cater was in full-blown panic mode. He had no idea how you hadn’t noticed yet. He'd been avoiding you all day, coming up with the most ridiculous excuses for why he couldn’t meet up. His messages were starting to get weirder, too.

Cater: Heyyyyy, babe! Can we talk? Wait, no. Scratch that. Uhm, are you free? Like, soon?

Cater: Actually, no. Never mind. I’m busy. Super busy. The busiest. TTYL!

You stared at your phone, a smirk playing on your lips. He was so bad at this. Deciding to mess with him a little, you shot him a casual reply.

You: Sure, I’m free! Wanna hang out?

There was a solid three minutes of radio silence before Cater’s reply came in.

Cater: Haha, maybe later? I’ve got, uh… stuff. Very important unbirthday stuff.

You could practically feel the anxiety radiating through the text. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Back in his room, Cater was biting his nails, sweat beading on his forehead. “Okay, okay, okay. Gotta fix this, gotta fix this now,” he whispered to himself, pacing like a madman. He quickly uses split card, and suddenly, there were three Cater Diamonds standing in front of him, all looking equally panicked.

“Alright, team,” the original Cater said, clapping his hands together. “We’ve got a mission. We need to recover those photos before they notice anything.”

One of the clones raised an eyebrow. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know!” Cater wailed. “That’s why we’re brainstorming!”

The clones exchanged a look before launching into a ridiculous plan. Clone One suggested hacking into your cloud account, while Clone Two thought maybe bribing one of your friends for a copy of the pictures might work. Neither idea was particularly realistic, but desperation was a powerful motivator.

“Alright, alright, calm down, me,” Cater said, rubbing his temples. “Let’s start with trying to recover the deleted files. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll… we’ll figure something out.”

The next few hours were a blur of Cater running around, trying every possible recovery trick in the book. He even roped his clones into checking your laptop, your external hard drives, and even the trash bin on your phone, all while sending you increasingly bizarre texts to keep you from getting suspicious.

Cater: Sooooo, what are you up to today? Got any fun plans? Not that I’m prying! Just curious!

You: Just chilling. You?

Cater: Oh, you know, vibing. Totally normal day here. Nothing weird happening.

You: Uh-huh. Sure.

By this point, you were just waiting for him to crack. And when he started sending his clones to “casually” check in on you—one pretending to drop by for a “totally innocent, nothing-to-see-here” visit—you had to bite back laughter.

The first clone showed up at your door, grinning nervously. “Hey! Just thought I’d swing by and say hi. You’re not, like, working on anything super important, are you?”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Not really. Why?”

The clone scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting around. “No reason! Just checking! Everything’s fine! Great! Haha, okay, bye!”

And he was gone just as quickly as he’d appeared.

You leaned back in your chair, shaking your head. Poor Cater was really losing it. And you… well, you were having the time of your life watching him squirm.

Finally, after what must’ve been hours of frantic searching, Cater hit his breaking point. All of his clones were gone, exhausted from their efforts, and he was alone in his room, slumped over his desk, completely defeated.

“I’m doomed,” he muttered to himself, face in his hands. “They’re going to hate me. I’ve ruined everything…”

That was your cue. You figured you’d let him off the hook before he spiraled into a full-on meltdown. Casually, you made your way over to his room and knocked on the door.

“Cater? You in there?”

There was a long pause, and then the door slowly creaked open. Cater peeked out, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. “Oh, hey…” His voice was weak, his usual enthusiasm completely drained.

You smiled softly, stepping inside. “You okay?”

He let out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah. I mean, no. Actually, no, I’m really not okay. I screwed up, and I didn’t know how to fix it, and now you’re going to be so mad at me, and I just—”

“Cater,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his arm. “I already know.”

He froze, eyes wide. “You… what?”

You chuckled. “I knew the second you started acting weird. You accidentally deleted my photos, right?”

Cater stared at you, completely dumbfounded. “You knew?”

“Yup,” you said, grinning. “And honestly? Watching you try to fix it has been hilarious.”

He gaped at you, his face a mix of relief, confusion, and a tiny bit of betrayal. “You… you knew? And you didn’t stop me?!” He whines "You're so, so mean!"

You laughed, pulling him into a hug. “I thought it was kind of cute. Plus, I backed up the photos ages ago, so it’s not a big deal.”

Cater sagged against you, all the tension draining from his body. “Oh my Seven… I thought I was going to die from stress.”

You smiled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not off the hook, though. You still owe me for all the chaos you put me through today.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “Fair. Totally fair. But… thanks. For not being mad.”

“Who could be mad at you?” you teased. “You were way too entertaining.”

Cater finally pulled back, his usual grin returning, though there was still a hint of sheepishness in his eyes. “Well, I guess if you enjoyed the show, then it wasn’t a total disaster.”

You chuckled, ruffling his hair. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Diamond.”

He flashed you a wink, back to his old self again. “Oh, I know I am.”

And just like that, the crisis was averted.

Masterlist

[melanie-ohara]

Gideon Souls 4

Undead Asylum Reprise, Blighttown and beyond

Now's as good a time as any to look at the loadout:

Clothes - who cares, beyond light rolling and wearing as much black as possible

Weapons - I did some grinding to have enough dex to wield the black knight great sword I found, so now it's that or the zweihander. Mostly the zweihander, because it hits harder. No shield, because Gideon would never take a hand off her sword

Rings - Favour and Protection, from kicking that guy off a cliff. It's great, no notes. Ring of the Evil Eye, because I I don't carry a shield and block with the weapon, so I still take a little bit of damage. Most of the time, I recover that after killing whoever had the temerity to hit me. This is when I find out that everyone thinks this ring is useless

Immediately upon arriving at the asylum I fell through the floor and got blown up by the Stray Demon. Solid start. I went back and knifed him, so I'm calling that one and a half attempts. Then the black knight for the creepy doll, and the rusted iron ring so I didn't have a fully horrid time in -

Blighttown, which is a horrible place full of misery and toxic dart assholes. I have essentially nothing to say about this place, except that it connects to Quelaag.

Bet you thought it was gonna be a titty pic, huh. No. Giant spider. Fuck you.

This one was harder because my usual tactic of just smacking them in the butt didn't work quite so well, but I persevered and smacked her in the butt four times and finally got her. I had very low health when I did it and was convinced she still had a sliver of HP left, so I was busy running for space and, again, missed the victory logo for a screenshot, so here's her eerie empty arena instead

Second bell of awakening! I was very happy when this happened because it meant progress. How sweet and innocent of me.

At this point, I horribly fucked up. @amethystasari told me about the false wall, and I arrived at the bonfire, whereupon I said the wrong thing to the eggy wife guy blocking the path. He was not happy.

So I squished him. What am I gonna do, not rest at the bonfire?

Oh dear. I squished her sister and her gross egg husband. The good(?) news is, @amethystasari informs me she's both blind and deaf. So that's just great. I feel great.

Anyway, she helpfully reinforced my estus with the fire keeper soul I found in a nightmare of toxic darts players, and I moved on to feeling bad about ceaseless discharge.

Selfie with the medical condition

He was chill, until I took some clothes from his presumably memorial altar. I get it buddy, that was very uncool of me. He squished me and I lost all of those souls when he squished me again. So I got a bit annoyed at this point, and gave up on trying to coax him out and went back to smacking him. This time I hid in a narrow channel where he could only do one attack, like a hero.

Lava cleared up, apparently for later

Unfortunately, now it's time for Sen's Fortress Circus of Hilarious Bullshit. I am having a genuinely appalling time here. I've fallen off, smacked two out of three titanite demons but cannot seem to deal with the last two, fallen off more, fixed the boulders, saved some NPCs, fallen off, lost cumulatively like 40,000 souls, been shot, squashed, impaled, and crushed, fallen off, fallen off, and fallen off. I am never getting out of here. No pics because it sucks here.

Back at Firelink we now have a cozy little camp going. We have the crestfallen knight, who I dislike, a pyromancer, Big Hat Logan, Griggs the whatever of Vinheim, and this cool and chill young gentleman

Selfie with my new bestie Frampt, who eats all the trash out of my inventory

I also meant Reah and the clerics, who left. Thorolund came back and said he lost them, so presumably I'll deal with that later. Griggsy says they're off kindling some bonfires, and I hope that's good news for me.

Of course, how could I forget my onion buddy Siegmeyer, who is constantly hmmming and ahhhhing wherever I want to be. What a nice chap. I either saved him from Sen's Bullshit Circus of Fuck You, or accidentally squashed him with a boulder. Only time will tell.

[twistedmusings]

I'm not going to request it now because requests are closed, but that Savanaclaw petting scenario was really cute and like,, Octavinelle petting and examining them

(,,• W •,,)

A/N: If you can pinpoint the exact moment I started to slowly doubt my writing ability and how to write these characters, I will give you, the reader, 100 points. Cause man this was rough to write when you have writer's block q wq But anyways, this was when my requests were closed BUT I WANTED TO COME THROUGH WITH IT! I would like to dedicate it to @kirayamidemon since I read their comic and it was...excellent.

But in other news, I found out that eels like to be petted!

Warnings: Eel petting, Octopus petting and all three Octavinelle members feeling a certain way when you finally give them those pats.

[Floyd-Senpai: Shrimpy~! Meet us in the mirror room tonight! Azul says he wants to give you something!] 

Your eyes look down at your phone before pocketing it back into your jacket, taking another sip of the Coral Pink drink Floyd had made for you before you left Monstro Lounge as you reminisce back on the day you just had. 

Today has been probably the most successful day the Monstro Lounge has had in a while. You had offered up the idea to Azul while you two walked to the cafeteria, mentioning touching a manta ray once and how you didn’t expect them to be so slimy. He had looked at you curiously and asked if you had just been a curious child when you were growing up, but you told him that you used to go to a lot of aquariums and how you would go straight to the petting exhibit. 

And the moment you said petting exhibit, Azul already had cashed the idea in. 

Aquariums had been placed elegantly among the tables of Monstro Lounge tonight. The smaller aquariums on the tables were closed lid, giving the customers a chance to enjoy the little ecosystems Jade had personally made for the creatures Azul had brought in while partaking in their drinks and meals. It made for a killer Magicam picture and Azul had predicted with Vil’s and Cater’s attendance the hashtag #MonstroLoungeExperience would be trending by the time they reached the dinner rush.

It trended faster than they thought. 

Most foot traffic, however, came from the piece de resistance. 

In the middle of the Lounge, a large aquarium had been placed at foot level where various customers could reach down and pet larger animals such as sting rays, sturgeon fish, starfishes and sea cucumbers. All of them with little placards stating fun facts as well as little sections with a bunch of coral that made for another perfect Magicam photo opportunity. 

It had been an amazing experience and you felt like you had almost grown closer to the three Octavinelle students, which was always an ‘A+’ in your book. 

You were pretty sure you saw Azul smiling from ear to ear by the time they closed and Floyd and Jade looked physically exhausted from having to deal with so many customers. They had been busy from opening to closing with no breaks in between so you figured that they would want to rest. 

So getting a message from Floyd so late at night had been somewhat confusing. 

But you didn’t question it, the fact that Azul wants to give you something making you ever so curious. 

Who knows, maybe if the sea creatures were still around Azul could let you pet them some more? 

Out of everyone you had probably been the most excited for the petting exhibit and you had given him the idea so the possibility of playing more with the starfishes and manta rays pushed you to move faster. 

Finishing the last of your drink and throwing it away in the nearest trash can, you push open the doors to the mirror room with a smile--!  

Only to find nobody. 

“...huh.” 

You look around, not daring to call out either of their names since, technically, you weren’t even supposed to be here. The only thing you could do was take a few steps further, looking around as you try to make some sense of the situation. 

Why wouldn’t they meet you in Octavinelle? The Monstro Lounge was there, as well as all the creatures. Azul’s office was there as well so if he wanted to give you something he could have given it to you there, so why had Floyd asked to meet them in the Mirror room? You look around for a moment before frowning as the realization set in. 

It was a prank. 

“Dammit.” 

Of course. Why would Floyd even act this nice towards you if it wasn’t to lull you into a false sense of security? The table you had sat in today had a beautiful aquarium with a bunch of little shrimps floating around and the mereel, more than once, had opened the lid and stuck his hand inside to grab one of the shrimps and hang it over his open mouth. 

You thought he was just acting this way because he was stressed from working so much but he probably had just done it to tease you! With a huff, you pull out your phone and open up his contact number to give him a piece of your mind--! 

“Aha! Shrimpy is here!” 

Only to gag as the back of your jacket is grabbed by a slimy aquamarine hand, pulling you into the nearest mirror and leaving nothing but your phone laying on the ground. 

Floyd’s hands pull you into a hug the moment you are pulled into the water, laughing as he sees you thrashing around and pulling at the arms keeping you pressed close to him. 

“Ahhhh! Shrimpy stop moving!” 

The mereel squeezes you tight, smiling as he looks down at the moment you realize who is holding you and what you are able to do. 

He grins and wraps his tail around you, the fins brushing your fingertips as the shock slowly starts to die down and the curiosity starts to set in. Floyd’s eyes shine brighter under the sea, your hand going to your chest as you expected to drown immediately but finding it simple to breathe in and out. 

“What--?!”

“Finally!” 

“There we go~ Breathe in--”

You take a deep breath. 

“And out~” 

Your chest relaxes as Floyd giggles at how wide your eyes have gotten, letting you go with his arms but his tail wrapping around one of your legs and pulling you close to him once again. He smiles when your hands go up to inspect the fins on his ears but stop as if the situation was still highly unreal for you to believe. 

He guessed humans rarely got to see the sea during the night, but he was glad he got to show you this sight. Even if it was Azul’s idea in the first place. 

Looking around, you notice that you had been here before. 

It was the Coral Sea. 

You look back at the mereel as Floyd tilts his head at your confusion, smiling as he sees the shining in your eyes get brighter when you notice that the veins in his arms and the ones going up his neck are all shining in the moonlit water. 

“Floyd…” 

Ah. You really looked too cute. Especially when you were looking at him with so much wonder. Maybe he should just take you out further and hide near the corals, somewhere Jade nor Azul would look as he preens under your attention. 

He blinks as you break out of the spell long enough to point a finger at him. 

“You--! Why did you call me to the Mirror room so late! The last thing I need to do is get in trouble with the Headmaster!” 

Floyd frowns, “You didn’t get in trouble! I pulled you when I heard your voice! Why didn’t you call out to me!” 

“Because I couldn’t see tail nor fin of you!”

Both of you stop talking after your dumb joke, looking at each other with surprise before a giggle escapes your lips first, turning into a full blown laugh between you both as he takes your hand and presses it under the fins in his ears. 

“Shrimpy was so mean today. Petting all those creatures and ignoring everything else. It made me want to eat all of them up.” 

You smile and rub right under the juncture where fins meet skin, Floyd shivering as he pulls you closer to him. 

“Eels don’t eat any invertebrates, right? You guys are mostly carnivores.” 

He grins and gives you a small squeeze. You even knew of his diet? Why hadn’t you mentioned you knew some things about sea creatures. If you had, Floyd would have dragged you to the Coral Sea way before this! He smiles as your hands go all the way down to his neck, tracing each vein slowly but not going any further than his clavicle and choosing instead to run your fingers from his shoulder blades all the way to his Adam's apple. 

“Shrimpy is being too shy. Here!” 

You gasp as Floyd grabs your hand and helps you swim over to a pair of rocks, sitting you down on top as the bottom of his tail wrapped around your legs to keep you anchored. He laughs as he practically sits on you, choosing instead to lay the top half of his tail on your lap as you look down at the shiny, swishing fins. 

“Now you can touch as much as you’d like!” 

Floyd was ready to make a joke about how this would a much better petting experience for you but his eyes widen when he sees the wonder in yours, the smile in his face disappearing as he watches your fascination with his fins, running your fingers through his caudal fin and rubbing the edges with your hand. His hands twitch as you run yours up his tail, taking in the slimy but firm feeling before looking up at him and reaching out to cup his face with one hand. 

He presses his cheek against your palm, smiling as you scratch right over his ear fin and almost jumping up from the rock as you start to rub the appendage. 

“Shrimpy wait--” 

Shit, he almost bit his tongue. He could barely look into your curious eyes as his heart sped up, the most sensitive area of his body being played and inspected with being a far too new feeling for him to just laugh it off. 

Floyd bites his bottom lip as his tail squeezes your legs, closing his eyes as he felt several shivers go up his spine. It felt too good--

“Floyd?” 

The mereel slowly comes down from the high as he glares at the intruder, clicking his tongue as he saw who it was. 

A pair of identical eyes to Floyd’s turn in your direction, your hand pulling away from the other as you turned to greet Jade. 

“You certainly took them farther than I thought you would.” 

He chuckles as his brother turns away, clearly not wanting you to see the blush on his cheeks. Nevertheless, his attention immediately goes back to you, swimming over to your side and sitting on the opposite of where Floyd was situated. 

“Did you have any troubles finding us?” 

You shook your head, “Floyd grabbed me and pulled me in before I could leave.” 

Jade nods and looks down at how Floyd had situated himself, a brief pang of jealousy overtaking him as he scoots closer, takes your hand and presses it on his chest. You immediately try to pull back but Jade’s eyes lid as he tugs you in closer, the veins in his chest shining even brighter than Floyd’s as he immediately feels you relax in his touch. 

“Do you know what this is, [Y/N]-san?” 

His eyes take their time to take in all of you as you nod your head, whispering the word ‘bioluminescence’ as Jade licks his lips. 

How strange was it to see you so focused. Jade had taken his time during the lull of the Monstro Lounge hours to watch you near the petting tank, your fingers running over the manta rays and tapping at the carapaces of the horseshoe crabs. And like his brother he did feel a certain sort of jealousy for those creatures, but he also saw an opportunity. 

An opportunity to get your guard down. 

His eyes look over at Floyd, the other pouting as your fingers start to trace Jade’s chest all by themselves.

“Uhm--” 

Jade’s attention goes back to you, “Yes?” 

“I didn’t think that moray eels had bioluminescence.” 

He smiles and takes your hand again, guiding it from the middle of his chest all the way to his cheek making sure that your fingers feel the light travel in his veins as you start to wriggle out of Floyd’s hold and into Jade’s. 

“Our kind is a mixture of many eels types. While our exterior is that of a moray eel, our interior is also made up of certain eels that use this feature as a way to communicate with other animals, warn predators…” 

The mereel decides to keep the ‘lure prey’ part out of his explanation. 

Jade’s eyes immediately went to Floyd’s as the other was about to speak up, glaring at him to keep his mouth quiet for he had his turn. His eyes soften when they go back to you, your eyes still taking in all of the small trails of light decorating Jade’s body as your hands trace against the caudal fins on his arms. 

They were rougher than the ones near their ears…

Slowly, your hands go to the fins on the side of Jade’s face, the mereel tensing up but keeping his eyes on you as you start to tug and rub at the appendages. 

“[Y/N]-san…” 

His nails scratch against the rocks as he feels your fingers trace every line they can find, his fins giving a little twitch as you push them back only to watch them slowly move back to their original spot. You had no idea what you were making him feel, what you probably made Floyd feel. 

And if his dear brother wanted to keep it a secret, then he would keep his mouth shut as well. 

Having someone touch them so freely, especially that area, was an act reserved for mates only. Even during courtship this was prohibited and if any other merperson happened to swim by it would be as if they just tumbled into the merman equivalent of someone shoving their fingers in between someone else’s legs. 

But your curiosity was so endearing and Jade just couldn’t find it in himself to pull you away. In fact, that look of yours full of innocence and naivety was so cute that if he let his instincts run wild you would find yourself being dragged to the Leech's home--

“What--you two!” 

His reason kicks back in as Jade smiles and turns to look at the new visitor. 

The octomer’s face is bright red as he locks eyes with you, your hands letting go of Jade’s fins as he smiles and waves at Azul. 

“I’m glad you decided to join us, Azul.”

He wants to say something about what the hell he just saw but he decides to save it, knowing full well that Jade nor Floyd were going to give him a straight answer. Instead, he decides to address you directly. 

“Inferring from our conversation from early this morning as well as your actions during the Monstro Lounge opening hours, I figured you would like this sort of surprise." 

He clears his throat, sneaking a peek at your face and quickly looking away as he saw your eyes staring straight at him. 

Humans like you are still curious about the different types of merpeople, especially those like Jade and Floyd, so after much consideration I decided--” 

"Azul, you're beautiful." 

Oh no. He bit his tongue. Fuck, fuck, fuck he bit his tongue and now it hurts like a shell clamping down on his hand--why had you gone and say something like that so suddenly?! 

"Excuse me?" 

The spell Jade had you in was completely broken as you pulled out of the brother's hold and swam over to him, stopping when you noticed him backing away. 

Azul stared at you and you stared back at him. 

He couldn't help it. After all the things he had to deal with, it was hard enough for him to even appear in front of you like this. And it wasn't like he was doing it as a showing of any sort of affection towards you, he just didn't want to owe you any favours from the idea you had given him! 

All he had to do was just...reach a tentacle out-- 

"Huh?" 

Azul notices you swimming back a tiny bit, smiling at the tentacle shyly reaching out to you. 

"You can turn back, you know. I don't want you to feel forced to do this." 

You point at him, your eyes still wide with curiosity but keeping your distance. 

"The fact that I get to see you like this is enough." 

Azul can feel his heart skip a beat, tentacles unfurling even more as the need to hide melted away. 

But...he owed you a favor... 

"Honestly. Thank you so much Azul." 

For the Sea Witch's sake, he really couldn't pin you down, could he? 

The octomer swims over, floating right in front of you as one tentacle shyly brushes against your fingertips. They twitch in interest but you do not move, looking up at Azul expectantly. 

You really were too nice for your own good, waiting for someone to give you the okay when he clearly wanted you to at least inspect that part of him. 

"Go...go ahead." 

Your touch is soft, pressing your hands right against his suckers and chuckling at the small noise they made as they attached themselves to your skin. Azul moves in a bit closer as some tentacles start wrapping around your ankles and wrists, his natural instincts taking over as his tentacles wrap around the person he really liked. 

Well not like as in like like but a like he had yet to put a definition to. And it's not like it needed a definition, you certainly weren't asking him what sort of like it was and the thought of what kind of like it really was didn't keep him up at night at all. 

"Oop!" 

Azul almost wants to screech at the tentacle going in between your legs and hoisting you up, offering you a sort of makeshift seat as the other appendages start to press against your neck, leaving behind little sucker marks in their wake. 

This situation was not only testing his boundaries but also his patience. 

"I didn't think they would be so slippery...and so soft!" 

Please don't look so curious about him! It's going to give him wild expectations! 

The tip of a tentacle rubs against your cheek, Azul's face an almost red tomato as he hears you chuckle and push the appendage back but for some reason his tentacles weren't listening to him so the thing only pushed forward even more--

"Ah! No fair!" 

Floyd comes up behind you, wrapping you up in a hug as he points a finger at Azul. 

"No hogging Shrimpy to yourself!" 

Azul swims back in alarm. 

"I wasn't hogging anyone!" 

Jade laughs as he swims right up behind you, a hand on your shoulder as he pulls you back. 

"Azul you might want to look down." 

The octomer blinks only to look down, seeing that one of his tentacles had stubbornly wrapped around your waist. 

"Ahh...ahhhh….!" 

You, Jade and Floyd blink as dark ink fills the water, Azul covering his face and letting you go, swimming to the nearest hole and curling up inside as he strangles one of his tentacles. 

Of all the things to embarrass him it just had  to be himself, huh?! 

"Azul? Wait come back!" 

"Shrimpy tell me I'm beautiful as well~!" 

"Floyd let me go! There's ink everywhere!" 

"Not until you tell me I'm beautiful!" 

"Jade!" 

"Azul is more than okay, I can assure you...although I would also like the same compliment as well, [Y/N]-san." 

The next day, you woke up with a high fever due to swimming all night, a present from all of the Octavinelle students at your doorstep with an apology card neatly placed on top. 

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Reassurance

masterlist

part one

Summary: Spencer feels insecure, and Reader puts his worries to rest. 

A/N: I got several requests to write a follow-up to Avoidance , and after writing almost the whole entire thing, only to scrap it all because it was literal trash, here we are! I initially planned to go a different route with this, but it didn’t flow right and I ended up changing the entire plot line somewhere along the way. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom!Reader

Content warnings: cursing, Spencer being insecure, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, pegging, light degradation, Spencer experiencing sub-drop

Word Count: 6k

           Spencer’s lips drag against mine at a slow, deliberate pace as I sit perched on his lap, my hands tugging lightly at where his hair curls at the nape of his neck. One particularly harsh tug has Spencer gasping into my mouth and tightening his grip on my hips, pulling me down until I’m fully sat on his lap. The bulge tenting his slacks comes in full contact with my clothed core and I hum appreciatively against his lips.

           “Getting excited there, baby?”

           Spencer lets out a whine of protest when I pull away, leaning forward in an attempt to reunite our lips. I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back until he rests against the couch cushions.

           “I thought you wanted to watch a movie tonight?” I ask him, my lips curled up into a knowing smile. Spencer’s thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into my hips as he fixes me with a shy smile.

           “Maybe later,” he replies, sheepish. He looks breathtaking - bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light, shadows dancing across every perfectly chiseled inch of his face. Faint purple bruises dot the underside of his jaw line, remnants of the last time we had been afforded enough time to get tangled up under the bedsheets. I press my thumb to one of them, applying just enough pressure to cause Spencer’s breath to hitch. In another day or two, the purple and yellow discoloration would be gone, leaving no trace of our time together.

           I release my hold on his jaw and make a mental note to see to it that he has another set of pretty marks before the weekend is over.

           “Later?” I lift the hand that was splayed across his chest until I’m able to fiddle with the top button on his dress shirt. “You talk as if you have something else you’d like to do first. Care to share?”            Spencer squirms underneath my gaze, eyes flitting between my lips and where I’m pressed firmly against his erection. I watch him flounder to come up with a response before deciding to forgo words completely and rut himself against me, eyelids fluttering closed as he lets out a low whine.

           I click my tongue at him and raise up until my center hovers over him, torturously close but not quite close enough to touch.

           “What’s the matter, Doctor? It’s not like you to be at a loss for words,” I taunt as I pop open the last three buttons of his shirt. Now that the milky white skin of his chest is on full display, I waste no time in dragging my fingernails from his collarbone down to his navel, light and teasing. The action elicits a shiver from Spencer, who looks up at me with glossy eyes and blown pupils.

           “P-Please,” he stutters out.

           “Please, what?” I prod, cocking my head to the side. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

           Spencer’s tongue pokes out to run across his bottom lip.

           “I want you,” he breathes out, low and sultry. “Now. Don’t wanna wait.”

           I let out a pleased sigh as I lean forward to capture Spencer’s lips in a heated kiss. Spencer’s quick to reciprocate, eagerly licking into my mouth as soon as my lips brush against his.

           It’s not long until I feel the hands on my waist begin to tug me back down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from me.

           “Such a needy little thing,” I murmur against his lips.

           Usually, a comment like this would be met by some sort of mumbled affirmation. But this time, as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel Spencer’s whole body tense up beneath me.

           “Does… Does that bother you?”

           I pull away and give Spencer an inquisitive look.

           “Does what bother me?”

           Spencer averts his eyes, “That I’m so submissive.” He spits the word out like it burns his mouth – like it’s something to be ashamed of – and I can’t suppress my frown.

           “Why would that ever bother me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble shrug of his shoulders, still refusing to pull his gaze from where it rests on the floor.

           “I read an article in Psychology Today that discussed a survey in which 172 German adults completed a personality questionnaire and then measured their own preference for a dominant partner. Not only was the general consensus that both genders prefer dominant partners, the participants also agreed with statements like ‘a very nice partner is often boring’ and ‘I feel attracted to assertive partners.’ So, it’s only natural that you might get tired of me always being such a pushover and search for a more exciting partner than can keep you stimulated-”

           I clamp my hand down on Spencer’s mouth, effectively ending his self-deprecating rant and forcing him to look up from where his eyes were burning a hole into the floor. When I know he isn’t going to try and continue down that particularly awful train of thought, I remove my hand.

           “First of all, you are not a pushover. Insinuating that you are a pushover would also be insinuating that I’m taking advantage of you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Spencer’s eyes grow wide and he frantically shakes his head.

           “Absolutely not. I… I love what you do to me – with me. What we do together. I-I just want to be sure that you like it to. That you’re not just humoring me until someone who can actually give you what you want comes around.”

           I feel my mouth fall open from shock somewhere during the middle of his spiel. He can’t actually be so oblivious to the fact that I enjoy the hell out of our sex life, can he?

           Apparently, he can and he is, because Spencer takes my silence as affirmation.

           “I could try? To d-dom you, that is. I’ve been reading up on it and-”

           “Spencer, where on earth did this come from?”

           Spencer blinks hard, “I told you – I read it in Psychology Today.”

           I shake my head at him and slip off of his lap and onto the couch cushion beside him.

           “No, that’s not what I meant. What made you think that I’m not happy with our sex life?”

           “N-Nothing in particular,” Spencer stammers. “I just know that I’m not exactly the most masculine guy, and I want to make sure that you’re, you know… happy. With me.”

           And there it is.

           I reach for Spencer’s hand and link our fingers together.

           “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that comment Derek made this morning, would it?” Spencer doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes drop to his lap tells me everything I need to know. I tighten my grip on his hand. “You know he was just messing with you, right? As out of line as it was, he was just being… Derek.”

           “He wasn’t wrong, though. I am extremely docile – along with a litany of other very passive traits. I’m not strong or assertive or confident like Derek; I’m basically the complete opposite of the ideal male partner. All I’m good for is spouting out information that’s only sometimes useful. No wonder you don’t want to-” Spencer clamps his mouth shut and his cheeks burn red. “Forget it. C-Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

           “No wonder I don’t want to what?” I prod, brows furrowed in confusion. But still, Spencer refuses to meet my eyes. “And as far as all the other stuff goes, it doesn’t matter if you’re assertive or strong. I prefer my sweet, gentle boy over guys like Derek Morgan, any day. My ideal male partner just so happens to be pretty boys with curly brown hair and massive IQs, not aggressive alpha males with overinflated egos.” I bring Spencer’s hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m being serious, Spence. There’s a lot to love about you.”

           Spencer’s next words are hushed, so quiet that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Then why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?”

           In the two months since our first time together, neither of us had been brave enough to broach the subject of what exactly we were doing. With neither of us quite sure how to go about defining the relationship, we’d fallen into a sort of routine. Whenever it came time to pair off for the night and retreat to our hotel rooms, Spencer and I always made sure that we were paired together. Hotch never seemed to care – he was just happy that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other anymore - and the others were kind enough to keep their suspicions to themselves. On the weekends, or really any time that we weren’t working a case, time off was spent in each other’s company, be it at Spencer’s place or mine. Days full of impromptu adventures to farmer’s markets and niche antique shops devolved into passionate nights spent learning every inch of each other’s skin until no stone was left unturned. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Or at least it would’ve been, if Spencer and I hadn’t managed to fall half way in love somewhere along the way. It was glaringly obvious early on that it was way more than just sexual chemistry that kept us both coming back for more, but owning up to that fact was a whole other issue that neither of us was ready to deal with.

           Until now, apparently.

           “I-I mean, we haven’t talked about what exactly this is, so I wasn’t quite sure how to go about that,” I stammer. “But now that you’ve brought it up…”

           Spencer finally looks up and his eyes are filled to the brim with equal parts fear and hope.

           “I-I really want there to be an us,” he whispers. “I kind of thought that much was obvious.”

           “And I thought the fact that I have absolutely zero complaints in the bedroom was obvious, but here we are,” I tease, and Spencer lets out an involuntary giggle when I poke at his side. “I want there to be an us, too. And for what it’s worth, I like you just the way you are, Spencer Reid - just so we’re clear.”

           “Really?” Spencer persists. From anyone else, it would seem like they were fishing for compliments, but from Spencer? I knew my sweet, darling boy just needed some reassurance.

           I lean forward and capture his lips in a long, languid kiss.

           “Really really,” I mumble when I pull away. “Have I done a thorough enough job drilling that into your head, or do you need some more convincing?”

           “More convincing,” Spencer replies as he ducks in for another kiss. “Lots and lots of convincing.”

           I smile against his lips, “That’s good to hear, because I sorta had a little something special planned for you.”

           “Something special?”

           I slide my hand from its place on his knee until my fingers glide across the tip of his clothed cock.

           “Remember that thing we talked about last week?”

           I can feel the way Spencer’s cock twitches under my hand and I have to bite back a smile.

           “Y-Yeah?”

           I give his bulge a light squeeze that has Spencer moaning low in his throat.

           “Only if you want to. There’s no pressure at all. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’d be perfectly fine if you just wanna watch that movie and cuddle a bit - you know that right?”

           “Yes, but I still want to,” Spencer chokes out. “Very, very much.” And then he’s bringing a hand up to cup my face before slotting our lips together again.

           The kiss is sloppy, seeing as we’re both much too excited to worry about being precise. Spencer spends time exploring my body with his free hand, starting at my hips and then dipping underneath my t-shirt. Spencer’s hand is just shy of skimming over my bra when I pull back and he lets out a frustrated whine when I pull his hands off of me.

           “I wanna ask you a few things before we do this, okay, baby?” Spencer flushes a deep crimson as he nods. “Have you ever experimented with any sort of anal play before?”

           “N-No, I haven’t. Is that okay?”

           Spencer Reid, you are going to be the death of me.

           “That’s perfectly fine, sweet boy,” I coo. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going to be the most comfortable for you. We’ll start small and work our way up, okay?” Spencer nods, prompting me to tack on an, “Assuming that you want to, that is. This is all on your terms, and I need to make sure that you know that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t expressly consent to first.”

           Spencer’s lips pull up into a sweet smile.

           “I know, and I trust you,” he says. “And I consent to it. To all of it.”

           “You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that,” I chuckle. “What exactly are you consenting to?”

           Spencer shifts in his seat, “Y-You know.”

           “Yes, but I want to hear you say it, baby.”

           Spencer gulps hard, “I-I want you to fuck me. Please.”

           I let out a satisfied hum and remove my hand from Spencer’s lap.

           “I want you to go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Then I want you to lie in the center of the bed and if I walk in and see you touching yourself, I’ll walk right back out and I won’t touch you for a month. Are we clear?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss.”

--

           I spend much longer than necessary in the living room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through my phone for nearly ten minutes before getting up and making my way to the bedroom. The anticipation is half of the fun, in my opinion, and I take great pleasure in imagining Spencer squirming against the sheets, desperate for me to walk through that door.

           I rid myself of my skirt and blouse as I make my way down the hallway, leaving me in only my panties and bralette. I can hear Spencer’s heavy breathing before I even reach the bedroom, and it makes my stomach flip excitedly as I push open the door.

           Spencer lays in the middle of the bed, hands grabbing at the sheets as he rolls his hips in vain. His cock stands painfully hard, leaking precum and bobbing up and down with every motion of his hips. Spencer doesn’t see or hear me when I come in – his eyes are closed tight and his bottom lip is nestled between his teeth, blissfully oblivious as he ruts up into nothing.

           “It seems like my poor, needy boy has worked himself up into quite a state.”

           The sound of my voice startles him and he immediately halts the movement of his hips. Spencer’s eyes watch on and I walk over to the night stand, taking my time as I remove a bottle of lube, my harness, and the newly purchased dildo bought especially for my sweet boy.

           Spencer’s eyes linger on the silicone member, wide and curious as I set the items on the bed and crawl in between his legs. He spreads his legs without being prompted, leaving him completely exposed to me, and the action makes my heart swell with pride. My good boy has learned so much in the past two months.

           “M’gonna suck that pretty cock of yours now, and I want you to keep your hips still. Can you do that for me, baby?”

           Spencer nods frantically, “Y-Yes, Miss. Please – I need your mouth. I’ll be still, I promise.”

           I let out a pleased hum as I take him into my hand, dragging my fist up and down, spreading precum across the entirety of his length.

           “I know you will, baby. You’re always so good for me. So eager to please.”

           I lean down and begin placing kisses to the sensitive skin of his thighs, all while continuing to work my hand against him. I nip lightly at the skin above his right hip and Spencer sucks in a ragged breath when I suck a pretty purple bruise in the very same spot. It contrasts starkly with his porcelain skin, and I enjoy the way it looks so much that I continue until a plethora of love bites litter his inner thighs. When I finally sit back and admire my work, Spencer’s writhing so pitifully against the mattress that I decide to put him out of his misery.

           Spencer devolves into a whimpering mess the moment I take his tip into my mouth, his head thrashing wildly against the mattress when I swirl my tongue around him. I take my time with him, not at all rushing my descent onto his cock, choosing instead to tease him with a slow, steady pace. If Spencer minded my slower than usual pace, he didn’t say so. He was too busy choking out an unrelenting string of the most wanton moans I’d ever heard as he watched himself disappear into my mouth.

           I decide now is as good a time as any to up the ante and I pull my mouth away from him.

           “W-Why did you stop?” Spencer stutters, chest heaving up and down.

           I raise an eyebrow at him, “Are you being ungrateful, Doctor? Because if you are, I could always just leave you here like this - cock hard and leaky with no way to get off other than your own hand. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having me fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

           “No, please! I’m so sorry,” Spencer mewls. “I’ll be good, just please don’t leave!”

            I loosely grasp Spencer’s cock in my hand and run my thumb across his slit.

           “You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. I can’t wait to hear how pretty you are when you’re begging for me to fuck you harder.”

           Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth hangs open, panting hard.

           “I want it so bad. Please, please, please, Miss.”

           I use my free hand to reach up and push two fingers into Spencer’s mouth, “Suck. I want them real nice and wet so that I can use them to get you ready for me.”

           Spencer moans around my fingers, laving his tongue around the them as he hollows his cheeks. When I retract my fingers from his mouth they’re practically dripping and I reward his effort by tightening my grip on his cock.

           “Good job, baby. Are you ready for me to finger that tight little hole of yours?” I ask him as I release his cock and grab the bottle of lube. I drizzle a healthy amount onto my fingers before dragging one across his puckered hole, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Spencer.

           “Yes!” Spencer gasps as he attempts to wiggle closer. “So ready for you, Miss. Use your f-fingers on me, please!”

           I start by slowly pressing one in, so as not to overwhelm him, and to my endless delight, it glides in almost effortlessly.

           “Already so ready for my fingers, Doctor. You sure you haven’t touched yourself here before?” I ask as I begin to work my finger in and out in slow thrusts.

           “N-Never. O-Only you,” Spencer stutters out between moans. “C-Can you add another, Miss?”

           I pull my finger out, only to add another and resume my efforts at a slightly faster pace. Spencer’s back arches up off the bed when my fingers brush against his prostate and he lets out a half startled, half delighted yelp.

           “Oh fuck!” Spencer moans as he grinds down onto my fingers. “Again, please, Miss!”

I comply, and with every press of my fingers against the fleshy bundle of tissue, Spencer’s body jolts from the sensation.

           “S’that feel good, baby? Do you like how my fingers feel?”

           “Oh, God, yes! F-Feels so good. Never felt like this b-before,” Spencer sobs. “I-I’m getting close, Miss.”

           “I didn’t say that you can cum, baby. I wanna save that for when I’ve got my cock buried inside you. How’s that sound?”

           “Y-Yes, Iwantitsobad,” Spencer slurs, his words running together as he draws nearer and near to the end. “Want you to fuck me, Miss! Please, I’ll do anything-”

           I take pity on him and withdraw my fingers, which makes Spencer keen in protest.

           “Calm down, greedy boy. Just gotta get ready so I can give you what you want.”

           I crawl off of the bed and step into the harness, fastening it in place and making sure that the dildo is secure before I crawl in between his legs. Spencer watches on with rapt fascination as I pour lube into my palm and work it over the silicone cock until every inch of it glistens.

           “What’s your color, baby?” I ask as rub the tip of the cock over his hole.

           Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and his whole-body tenses with anticipation.

           “So green, Miss. So fucking green,” Spencer whimpers.

           I raise a hand up to his hip and begin to rub soothing circles into the skin there.

           “Gonna need you to relax for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?”            Spencer bites his lip and nods his head. I watch as the tension begins to melt away, and when I see him relax back into the mattress, I bring up my hand to stroke his cock. I keep my touch light, barely applying pressure – I knew if I applied too much, Spencer wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than a few thrusts. He was already teetering on the edge as it was.

           Mine and Spencer’s eyes meet and he smiles up at me, dopey and drunk from pleasure, and it’s all the permission I need. I press into him slowly, and I’m left in awe as I watch Spencer Reid completely unravel beneath me.

           “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer curses, head flying back and hitting the pillows. It never ceases to amaze me at how fucking responsive he is, and tonight is no exception. It’s like his body is a live wire, trembling beautifully as I press in further and further and further. I stop just shy of being fully sheathed inside him, trying to allow him a moment to adjust, but Spencer seems to have other plans.

           “Keep going, Miss, don’t stop, please! I want all of it, please give it to me! I can take it, please let me show you!”

           He looks up at me and those beautiful brown eyes are so wild, so positively feral that I can’t even entertain the idea of denying him any longer.

           Spencer looks positively ruined by the time I bottom out inside him. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat that gathers on his forehead, and his lips look positively abused from the way he’s been biting down on them. His eyelids flutter closed every few seconds, and every time he blinks them back open, I’m able to see that his pupils are so blown that his eyes look almost black.

           I pull back until all that’s left inside him is the very tip of the cock, and just as he opens that bratty little mouth to beg for more, I give particularly harsh thrust of my hips until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Spencer lets out a surprised cry as I set an unforgiving pace, all the while still loosely jerking him off as I bury myself inside him again and again and again.

           “Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Spencer chants loudly, face contorted beautifully in an expression of pure ecstasy. I spare a brief thought to Spencer’s poor neighbors and make mental note to invest in a ball gag.

           “S’that feel good, baby? You look so pretty taking my cock like the good boy you are. My pretty little cock slut. Such a shame nobody’s fucked you like this before,” I hum as I focus my attention on the head of his cock, thumbing lightly at where he leaks for me.

           “D-Don’t want anyone else, just wanna be good for y-you. Wanna m-make you proud,” Spencer whines, tripping over his words as he struggles to form a coherent sentence. The sentiment sends a jolt of heat down to my already soaking core, but I do my best to ignore the slickness running down my thighs for the time being. Right now, my only focus is the boy chanting my name, praying for a type of salvation that only I can give him.

           I smile down at him and my hand drifts lower to where I’m steadily thrusting in and out of him. Spencer’s body jolts as the pad of my thumb brushes against the sensitive skin of his hole.

           “Of course, I’m proud of you. Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. It’s like you were made to take my cock,” I praise him.

           My words, mixed with the way I’m working both Spencer’s cock and his tight little ass, seem to be getting the better of him, because Spencer doesn’t even try to formulate a response. He just continues to let out strangled moans that almost sound like sobs as his hands grasp at the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

           It doesn’t take long until I feel the muscles in Spencer’s stomach and thighs begin to tense, and when his cock twitches in my hand I can tell Spencer won’t last much longer.

           “Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” I ask him as I grind my hips against his, and Spencer’s reply comes in the form of an incoherent, garbled moan.

           “What’s the matter, baby? Have I fucked you so stupid that you can’t answer me anymore?” I taunt him. I use the leverage I have from the hand placed on his hip to propel myself deeper. “Is my poor dumb baby incapable of replying?”

           Spencer makes a feeble attempt at a reply, “P-Please let me – f-fuck – cum! Oh, God, m’socloseMiss. Harder, please!”

           I take a minute to bask in the way he’s completely fallen apart at my hands - relishing in the way his eyes are glossy and dark with lust, in the way that his chest is flushed a deep red, and in the way that precum beads at the tip of his cock, aching for a release. He looks beautiful like this, whining and squirming, hips grinding down in search of more, more, more. I’d never imagined in a million years that I’d be so lucky as to see the illustrious Spencer Reid fucked absolutely senseless, but here he was, waiting for my permission to throw himself off the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.

           “Cum for me, pretty boy,” I say in the softest voice imaginable. “Show me how good you are.”

           The tension that had been steadily building since the first press of my lips against his snaps in an instant, and copious amounts of cum spurt out from his cock, painting his chest in thick, white ropes. Spencer chants out muddled thank yous as I fuck him through his release, pushing in and out of him in shallow strokes as slowly comes back down from the high.

           When his breathing slows down to a normal rate, I pull out of him, quickly freeing myself from the harness and tossing it aside to be dealt with later. I crawl up until I’m at eye level and begin pressing soft, sweet kisses to Spencer’s face.

           “You did so well, Spence,” I murmur against his skin. “You’re amazing, baby. Thank you so much for trusting me to be with you like that.”

           Spencer lifts a shaky hand to my hair and pulls me down into a heated kiss. I indulge him and pour every ounce of passion I have into my efforts, hoping to express my gratitude with every swipe of my lips against his. And when I pull away, my pretty boy smiles up at me, sated and full of adoration, and it’s beautiful.

           “D’you think you can handle taking a shower with me?” I ask as I pull away, and Spencer gives a shy nod in response. He sits up in the bed and swings his legs until his feet hit the floor. I’m just about to stand when his hand comes down on my wrist to stop me.

           “What about you? You didn’t . . .”

           “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Tonight was all about you.”

           I move off of the bed and help him to his feet, holding him steady when his legs begin to shake. “Might be a little sore for a while, but it should go away within a day or so.”

           I help him to the bathroom and turn on the shower, and when it’s warm enough I rid myself of my bra and panties and motion for him to join me. I urge Spencer to step under the spray first, but his arms snake around me and pull me with him.

           Spencer nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck and he lets out a deep sigh.

           “You okay, bubs?” I ask him as I tangle my arms around his torso and begin to rub soothing circles into his back.

           “I just feel a little… down? I-Is this a sub drop? I read a little bit about them, but I don’t k-know…” he trails off, sniffling pitifully against my neck. “I-I just know that I want to hold you. Is that o-okay?”

           My heart lurches painfully in my chest as his voice wavers, and I pull back just enough that I can look into his weary eyes.

           “Baby, that’s more than okay. Sub drops are a perfectly normal thing to experience, and I’ll be right here to hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

           Spencer’s eyes fill with tears and he makes no attempt to hold them back, choosing to let them fall freely and mix in with the water pouring from the shower head.

           “T-Tell me you want me,” Spencer begs, lip wobbling pitifully. “I-I just feel like I’m not good enough for you, and I know it’s all in my head, and I know how you feel about me, but I just think it would help if you just… s-said it. Please?”

           I feel my heart break for the man that stood before me. The implication his words carry - that this wonderful, kind-hearted, extraordinarily gifted man could ever think so little of himself – was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and, with all the sincerity I can possibly muster, I reply.

           “I want you, Spencer Reid. I don’t want anyone else – only you,” I tell him, never once breaking eye contact. “For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

           Spencer chokes out a weak laugh, “And if I want you forever?”

           I nudge his nose with my own, and the act feels almost more intimate than everything that preceded it.

           “Then forever, it is,” I murmur. I press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo. “Now, turn around, pretty boy. Let me pamper you.”

--

           “Y/N!” Penelope calls out, sauntering over to me in a flash of hot pink taffeta. I’m in the middle of throwing my satchel over my shoulder when she runs up to me, excited smile on her face. “Me, you, JJ, Elle, and a bottle of tequila. You in?”

           On a normal day, the answer would have been a resounding hell yes. But today? I let my eyes wander over to where Spencer lingers near the glass doors, trying to look like he isn’t listening in. Very subtle.

           “I’m gonna have to pass on this one, Penelope.”

           Penelope’s smile transforms into a pout.

           “This is the third weekend in a row you’ve ditched us!” she whines, stomping her kitten heeled foot like a petulant child. “Either you’re avoiding us or you’ve got some secret lover we don’t know about. And if that’s the case, then we have a whole other problem, because that’s the kind of thing I expect to be told about immediately.”

           The giddy smile that stretches across my face gives me away before I even have the chance to open my mouth, sending Penelope into an absolute frenzy.

           “Oh my God, I cannot believe this. We’ll talk about how angry I am about being kept in the dark later because right now, I need details,” Penelope gushes. “Who is he? Where did you two meet? Is he hot?” Penelope barely gets the words out before she’s shaking her head. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Of course, he’s hot - just look at you. Do I know him? When do I get to meet him?”

           I can’t help but laugh at Penelope’s enthusiasm.

           “Slow down, Pen,” I chuckle. “I didn’t tell you about it because it’s still relatively new, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that we finally decided to put a label on it.”

           “A label? Does that mean this guy is your boyfriend? Oh my God, I thought this day would never come,” Penelope sighs dreamily. But the far-away look in her eye quickly fades and Penelope begins to grill me with renewed fervor. “Y/N, you have to tell me who it is. It’s like, practically a crime that I’m only just now hearing about this, so you owe me this much. And I’ll be needing his first and last name, along with a DOB so that I can run a full back ground check ASAP. Don’t even try to talk me out of it – we deal with enough freakiness during our day jobs, and I insist on making sure the freakiness ends there.”

           I can feel a flush spread over my cheeks and I fiddle with the strap of my bag.

           “I, uh, don’t think a background check is going to be necessary. You know this guy pretty well already.”

           If Penelope had been worked up before, she was practically vibrating with excitement now.

           “I know him? Oh my God, this is so huge. Is it Brendon from down in sex crimes? Or maybe James from counter-terrorism?” Penelope muses aloud, before her eyes go almost comically wide. “Holy hell, it’s Anderson, isn’t it?”

           “It definitely isn’t Anderson, or any of the others, for that matter,” I laugh. “Do you want a hint?”

           “What I really want is for you to just tell me, but if you insist on dragging this out then yes, I would very much like a hint!”

           I cut my eyes over to where Spencer stands, and it’s impossible to miss the giddy grin on his face. So much for trying to remain subtle, Doctor Reid.

           I fake like I’m looking around for anyone within earshot before motioning for Penelope to lean in. She’s quick to comply, and I do one last exaggerated sweep of the room.

           “Alright then, here’s your hint,” I whisper into her ear. “He’s got an IQ of 187, and he’s a pretty kickass magician.”

           I lean back and adjust the strap of my bag, sparing one last, parting glance at Penelope, whose jaw is practically on the floor.

           “See you on Monday, Pen.”

           “W-Wait, are you serious?” Penelope calls out after me. “Reid is your mystery man?! Y/N, get back here right now and explain yourself! Derek, did you hear that?!”

           By the time I reach Spencer, Penelope’s voice fades into background noise as I focus all my attention on the way he smiles down at me. I link my hand with his and I’m vaguely aware of an increase in volume coming from Penelope’s direction, but I ignore in favor of smiling back at him.

           “You ready to get out of here, boyfriend?”

           Spencer squeezes my hand in his and he nods.

           “Ready when you are, girlfriend.”

-

-

-

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[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

[rocorambles]

Hit It Till It Breaks

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Mafia AU, NSFW, Drug Dealing, Dub-Con/Non-Con Sex, Dub-Con/Non-Con Drug Consumption, Drug Addiction, Manipulation, Humiliation, Degradation, Prostitution, Slight Pet Play

Prompt: Hard At Work

Summary: Growing up, you’d always loved fairy tales and happy endings. You’d always believed that despite how bad things might seem or get, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But you’re quickly realizing that this isn’t a fairy tale, that there is no happy ending, and that sometimes, you only go downhill, farther and farther from the light. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt.  

(Thank you as always @sawamooora for helping me keep this a coherent degenerate mess~)

It’s hard to believe that bright eyed girl holding her college diploma in the photo on your nightstand was you not that long ago. And your heart clenches when you remember how hopeful you had been. So excited to venture out and experience life. Ready to enter the job market. Ready to be an adult. 

Doors opened and closed. But you hadn’t let it deter you at first. It just wasn’t meant to be. You can’t expect to get the first job you interview for! 

But then more and more doors opened, only to be shut in your face.Your rose-tinted glasses began to crack as your funds quickly dwindled, as you lowered your standards, desperately mass applying to any small time company vaguely related to your major, only to be turned away at every step. 

And now, here you are, barely able to make rent, barely able to even feed yourself with the little you have from odd part-time jobs you’ve managed to stitch together into some sort of financial life line. 

Well, you HAD been barely able to make rent, but your hands tremble when you stare at the letter notifying you that your rent will begin to increase starting next month, mind speeding into a panicked haze as you unsuccessfully try to think of what to do, how you can possibly afford to live even in this dump anymore. And before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re scrambling, stumbling to your bathroom, throwing open your medicine cabinet as you rummage for the little pills that you know will help slow down your racing thoughts and provide much needed clarity. 

You swear everything seems clearer as soon as the smooth texture hits your tongue and you can finally breathe, slumping down on the cold tiles of your floor, pill bottle still clutched in your hand as you allow yourself to relax, praying for any ideas to flow through you. And it hits you like a ton of bricks when your grip on the plastic container accidentally loosens and the bottle clangs against the floor. 

A humorless chuckle slips past your lips as you stare at the rolling cylinder. 

Drug dealing. Fucking drug dealing. 

You can’t believe you’re even thinking of going down this route, but your mind flashes back to old roommates, old friends, old classmates who had nonchalantly made a pretty bundle on the side, carelessly tossing around and selling all types of prescription drugs on campus. And you vividly remember how simple they had made it seem, how they had all gotten away with it. Scrumptious meals, pricey alcohol, far beyond a college palette, and beautiful clothing were the only “consequences” for their crimes. 

If they could do it, you could too. Or so you’d like to think. 

But as naive and ignorant as you are about this line of work, even you know there’s a difference between selling to silly college students on campus, and selling it at a popular nightclub owned by an infamous crime syndicate. 

Even as far removed as you are from the more seedy underbelly of the new city you live in, you know of the Seijoh Syndicate. Everyone in town does. It’s hard not to when they literally run and own the entire place. 

Oikawa Tooru and the rest of the Seijoh Four run their domain with an iron fist. They’re practically nonexistent, merely a scary story to keep people in line, for those who abide by the laws and keep their noses out of trouble, but an all too real nightmare for those who choose to defy them. And you shudder, remembering the horror stories you had heard of exactly what happens to those who decide to try and start their own nefarious business and practices on Seijoh streets without Oikawa’s permission. 

But surely they wouldn’t pay you any mind? Right? Surely a mere girl in her early twenties selling the leftover prescription medicine she has in her cabinets for one night won’t do any harm? 

Maybe it’s stupid to go to such a prevalent and well known club, especially one that’s notoriously favored by the Seijoh Four. But you convince yourself that it’s the most crowded venue in the area with a target demographic who’s guaranteed to buy you out, even at the obscene prices you plan on charging. How would anyone even notice you? Where else could you go? What options do you even have? 

So despite the nervous pit swelling in your stomach, you soldier on, plastering a cheery smile at the bouncer who easily waves you in without a second glance, slipping into the sweaty mass of bodies, going deeper and deeper until you’re surrounded - skin, bones, and muscles pressing against you on all sides, safe from any prying eyes. 

Or so you believe. 

You know who the Seijoh Four are. You even know their names. But never have you met them, never have you ever seen a picture of what they each look like. Not that it would help you if you did when you’re so laser focused on finding potential customers, not even bothering to look around to see if anyone’s watching you. So you carry on, unaware of the four sets of eyes looking at you in amusement from their roost high above the writhing crowds. 

There’s nothing subtle about the way you sloppily nudge people, practically shoving your pills in stranger’s faces, almost wildly waving your merchandise around you in a desperate attempt to pull in buyers. Sweaty nervous hands fumble as you exchange little plastic baggies for wads of cash and Matsukawa raises a brow in disbelief while Hanamaki cackles when you drop your merch and payment, getting on all fours on the trashed dance floor to recollect your goods. 

It might be the most amusing show they’ve had in a while, but Iwaizumi feels a pang of pity at the wild hopeless look in your eyes and he swiftly stands, brusquely telling the other three that he’s going to go down and tell you off with just a warning, only to be stopped when Oikawa smoothly stands to his feet, effectively blocking Iwaizumi’s path. 

“Now, now Iwa-chan. Don’t be so hasty. Let me go talk to the cutie. I’ve been so bored recently and she looks like she’ll be fun! Plus you’ll make her cry with that scary face of yours.” 

Suddenly the sight of you bumbling around isn’t quite as entertaining as the remaining three men watch the brunette prowl towards you, heavy realization of what’s to come sombering the mood.  

 You’re frantic, flitting about the throngs of flailing limbs and swaying bodies, frustration from not being able to get through your supplies fast enough weighing at your conscious. Sure, you’ve managed to accrue some cash, but it’s not enough, not nearly enough to even feed yourself for the coming week let alone make a dent in the daunting rent that looms over you. And you can feel hot tears prick at the corner of your eyes when you see that it’s almost closing time and you’re still stuck with more than half your inventory, no closer to figuring out how to survive. So when a hand firmly rests on your shoulder, you whip around, ready to take your anger out on the poor soul who’s managed to catch you at the worst time. But you freeze, vicious words stuck in your mouth when you see the handsome man beaming down at you, a thick wad of rolled up bills haphazardly dangling from his fingers. 

“I heard you might have some stuff I’d be interested in.” 

You wonder if this is all a dream, if the man in front of you is (ironically a devilishly) handsome angel swooping into save you when he casually asks you how much stuff you still have, how much you’d be willing to sell everything for, not even blinking an eye at your outrageous price tag. You’re so stunned by how quick he is to call it a done deal, not resisting even a bit as he wraps his hand around your wrist, pulling you after him, saying some vague comments about wanting to go somewhere a little more private since it’s a bigger trade. All you can think about is how you’ll finally be able to eat something other than instant noodles and not have to worry about rent as you throw yourself back into interviewing, too lost in thoughts to be wary of how you’re being dragged farther and farther away from the rowdy crowd. 

But the sound of a door slamming shut behind you jolts you back to reality and Oikawa fights back a laugh at how adorable you are, eyes blown wide like a deer in headlights as your head swivels side to side, dismay and panic making you tremble when you survey the private room you’re in, throat nervously gulping when you notice the three other occupants. 

You’re so predictable and Oikawa just rolls his eyes fondly at how you swiftly turn around, trying to lunge towards the door in an attempt to escape, taking his time to leisurely make his way towards you, brown orbs taking in every inch of you as Matsukawa and Hanamaki hold your writhing body in place. 

It’s so satisfying watching you crumble to pieces before his very eyes at just the mention of his name, despair and fear swirling beautifully on your face when he continues to introduce the rest of the Seijoh Four. It never gets old, that deliciously addicting feeling of power he feels when people tremble from just a few syllables and he relishes in your pleading apologies and your tears, patiently waiting for you to finish your little sob story, barely listening to the details as he focuses in on how gorgeous you are, broken and vulnerable. 

And really, there’s no need for him to pay close attention to your blabbering anyway. It always comes down to one thing…

 “So you need money, cutie? How about working for me?”

 “Oye! Oikawa-”

“I’m just asking her some questions, Iwa-chan.”

There’s tense silence and your eyes nervously flicker back and forth between the two imposing figures staring each other down, green and brown eyes clashing in a silent argument. But as if they’ve somehow come to a conclusion, Iwaizumi tsks and looks away while Oikawa turns his attention back to you, a sickeningly cheerful grin on his face. 

Blood curling fear lances through you and you’re almost grateful for the two pairs of strong arms holding you tight, their grip keeping you from falling to your knees as your legs threaten to give out under the pressure you feel as Oikawa thoughtfully looks at you. 

You know the smart answer would be to adamantly say no and promptly figure out a way to leave this moment far behind you, even if it means forfeiting any money you had made tonight. But...a job is a job, right? And surely a job in the Seijoh Syndicate would be more lucrative than anything you’re doing now, right? 

Oikawa hides a smile at the way he can see the cogs in your head turn, apprehension turning to curiosity as you stutter out questions about pay and what the job would entail. Desperation is a good look on anyone, but it suits you particularly well and just like that, hook, line, and sinker, he has a new cute live-in maid to replace the recently vacated role.  

Working as Oikawa’s maid is more...normal than you would have expected. Not that you’re complaining and other than the embarrassing maid outfit he makes you wear, complete with frilly bow and garters, the chores are mundane. Bring breakfast to him and wake him. Clean his room and do his laundry when he’s away at meetings or jobs. Make sure guests have refreshments when they come over to his large estate, a mansion you now also call home. 

If you’re honest, it’s much more relaxing than the multiple part-time jobs you had been juggling previously, and with free board, free food, and the substantial paycheck that regularly makes its way to your bank account, you can see your future brightening up again. When your duties are done for the day, you resume practicing for interviews and keeping up with the industry, feeling emboldened and empowered to finally resume working towards the career path you had always dreamed of. 

But the more time you spend with Oikawa, the closer and more entangled in your life the brunette becomes. Alarm bells ring wildly in your head as you’re forced to join him for meals, forced to dress in elaborate gowns and jewelry while you’re waltzed around on his arm, forced to travel around the world with him, and attend to him like a glorified assistant. He’s too charming, too familiar, too bold, and you can’t help but feel like you’re racing towards some inevitable crash as he easily brushes aside any boundaries between the two of you. 

You know so many women would kill to be in your shoes and you can understand why, not completely immune to his playful smile and the lilt of his voice yourself. But you know better, know exactly how dangerous it would be to get involved with a man like Oikawa Tooru. 

It’s clear from the crimson stains on the clothes he leaves for you to either dispose of, or have cleaned. It’s clear from the wails and sobs of woman after woman he uses and tosses aside like garbage on an almost daily basis. It’s clear from the guns, knives, and weapons, most of which you don’t even know the name of, filling up all the walls, drawers, and cabinets.  

So you do your best to keep your distance, building titanium walls around your heart. Always polite, too terrified of what would happen if you pissed him off, but cold enough to deter him from more amorously or intimately testing his boundaries. 

And it seems to work as he turns his eyes towards other women, leaving you alone after throwing a few flirty comments and winks your way and ultimately falling in bed with some other poor damsel. But you nervously gulp when it’s just the two of you one night and just as you’re ready to make yourself scarce after turning down his bed and laying out his pajamas, his voice beckons you over and you anxiously bite your lower lip at the sight of pills of all shapes and sizes splayed out across his desk.    

Other than your prescription medicine, you don’t have a lot of experience with drugs other than the few blunts here and there during your college years and you had always strictly kept to your recommended doses, never even entertaining the idea of taking more. So the sight in front of you is overwhelming and you hesitantly stare anywhere but at the table surface, anxiously waiting for Oikawa to explain why he called you over. But what you’re not expecting is the warm hand gently grasping your wrist and holding your arm out, small objects being carefully placed in your outstretched palm, and soft coaxing from Oikawa to “give them a try”. 

Every part of you is screaming to throw the pills and make a run for it, begging you to come up with some excuse or just outright reject his offer. But it’s as if your body is frozen and he firmly pushes your hand to your mouth, grip tightening enough to make you wince when you hesitate to listen. The slight pain is enough to remind you that you’re not exactly in any position to negotiate and you force yourself to down the pills and gulp down the glass of water he holds to your lips. 

The last thing you remember is the unsettling feeling of beginning a descent to an unknown place from which there is no return as Oikawa pulls you to his bed. And then euphoria floods through you as your body slots against his larger frame. 

It feels good. Too good. Unnaturally good. But it’s intoxicating and you can’t help but let yourself drown in the hazy waves crashing down upon you, feeling lighter, freer, happier than you have for years. You vaguely register roaming hands, a hot wet mouth, a body on top of yours, something hard pressing against the apex of your thighs, filling you, consuming you in heady pleasure only amplified by the drugs coating your insides.  

Bliss. Pleasure. Pure unadulterated joy. And then nothing. 

When you come to, the weight of what had happened last night comes crashing down on you, making your foggy mind throb even more and you can feel bile rising inside of you as a toned arm around your waist tightens its hold on you. Oikawa grunts in annoyance when you claw your way out from his hold, scampering on shaky legs to his bathroom, heaving and expelling the contents of your stomach, trying futilely to cleanse yourself of your employer’s touch. 

You flinch when you hear footsteps approach, shrinking into the corner of the tiled room, body crouched and curled into a tight ball as you try to save any shred of dignity you still have by hiding your naked body as much as you can from his prying eyes. Salty drops threaten to trail down your face when he hovers over you, sweetly cooing down at you “not to be like this”, “you liked it so much last night”, “come back to bed with me” only to stream down your face when his countenance swiftly changes, handsome face glowering down at you before brusquely turning away and snapping at you to “get on with your work then if you’re going to be an annoying bitch”. 

It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re just being smart, just trying to survive as you obediently wash up and don your humiliating uniform, that it isn’t just you being a coward as you submissively go about your usual work day, still sitting with thighs pressed against Oikawa’s legs at meals, making no move to brush off the heavy arm he slings around your shoulders, only slightly flinching when his fingertips teasingly play with the hem of your skirt as he converses with the rest of the Seijoh Four. 

But you can’t deny that all you are is a weak fool, desperate to live when you shakily accept the pills he pushes towards you again that night, silently crying yet not doing anything to prevent the inevitable as you swallow any self-respect or pride you had along with the smooth pellets under his watchful gaze, too scared of the glimmer of gunmetal you see on the inside of his jacket to even think of resisting. 

And history repeats itself. Over and over again. 

Oikawa smiles at how different you are from that skittish creature who fled from his every touch, smirking at how naive and innocent you still are as you try to hide how eager you are for your daily dose, unaware of how he’s slowly been increasing it every night, ignorant of how you unconsciously lean into his touches, pretty lips wrapping around his fingers as he hand feeds you. 

Do you know what an animal you are in bed these days? Do you realize how little there is left to differentiate you from one of his filthy whores when you’re so doped up on whatever he gives you, moaning like a pornstar and leaving vicious red claw marks on his skin as you bounce on his cock? 

And he knows it’s time to move onto the next phase of your conditioning when there’s not even a speck of shame in your clear eyes when the sunlight begins to filter through the window, knowingly smiling in satisfaction when instead of slinking off to wallow in your regret you shimmy down between his legs and begin to nuzzle and mouth his morning wood, face full of nothing but wanton desire as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He doesn’t give you anything that night. Or the next night. Or the one after that. He doesn’t so much as even look at you outside of your usual eye contact, not a single flirtatious word slipping past his lips.

You should be grateful. This is what you wanted, right? To keep things strictly professional between the two of you. To not be coerced into the artificial pleasure you’ve been swallowing on a daily basis for the last month now. To not feel like just another warm body for Oikawa to taint. 

Your interview notes and open tab of job listings are right there, begging for your attention, practically screaming at you to pursue the life you’ve always dreamed of. 

Yet here you are, not even a week later, on your knees in between Oikawa’s legs as he leisurely reclines in his chair, peppering his inner thighs with kisses and rubbing your face against the growing bulge in his trousers, begging and pleading for another dose, feeling utterly empty and cold inside, unable to sleep, unable to focus, unable to function without the nights of hazy ecstasy. 

Your heart drops at the long disappointed sigh the brunette releases. 

“Drugs are expensive, cutie. I was just being nice and letting you try some new batches we’ve been producing, but now that they’re on the market, I can’t just keep on giving them to you for free.” 

He rolls his eyes when you adamantly tell him you’ll pay whatever the price is, a condescending smirk splitting his face from how quick you are to shut up, soul crushed when he reveals the extravagant cost, a price he knows you can’t afford with the salary he’s providing you with. 

But he artfully softens his smile as he begins to unbuckle his pants, sliding the fabric down and letting his throbbing cock spring into view, chuckling when it lightly slaps your face as it’s released from its confines, wondering if you’re drooling from the sight of his erection or the pills he’s playfully placing along the length of it. 

“I know you don’t have that money, cutie. But I’d be willing to accept other forms of payments.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re rushing to take him in his mouth and he loudly laughs at how obscene you look, slobbering all over his length, fervently bobbing your head up and down, hastily trying to deep throat him to reach the pill strategically placed right at the base of his shaft, lips puckering as you inhale the drugs, swallowing around him in a way that has him groaning as you stuff your face full of chemicals and pre-cum. And it doesn’t take much longer for him to wash your mouth and throat with warm rivulets of sticky white fluids as he watches the goods take effect, his balls tightening and cock straining with arousal as you reach between your legs, fingers playing with your tight dripping hole while your lewd moans vibrate against him. 

It’s pathetically endearing how you can’t keep off of him after that, insisting on sitting on his lap during meals, your cute ass grinding against his clothed cock, always dropping to your knees in between chores, warming his cock in your greedy mouth, always asking him how many pills you’ve earned so far. You really are just his little slutty drug addict now, aren’t you? 

But he needs you to be more than that, needs you to learn that you belong to anyone who’s willing to give you the high you crave, needs you to realize that you’re just a free use drug addicted whore for anyone and everyone to use. 

So despite how tempting it is to just plunge balls deep inside your tight little pussy, he shoves you off of him one night as you try to grind against his body, feigning exhaustion and boredom of your body, watching in amusement at the panicked crazed look that flashes across your face at his words. Well aren’t you a beautiful sight, throwing yourself at his feet and groveling, saying you’ll do anything for another dose. 

Anything, huh? 

In your defense, even through the daze of your withdrawal, there’s still a wary expression on your face when Matsukawa and Hanamaki enter the room. Maybe you aren’t as broken as Oikawa had thought. But when you see the little baggies filled with the tablets you’ve become far too familiar with twirling between the duo’s fingers, you practically lunge at them and Oikawa finally allows himself the pleasure of reaching into his pants and stroking himself to the debauched sight playing out in front of him. 

Maybe he needs to fuck you in front of a mirror more often if this is what you look like from an outside perspective. It’s like you were made to be used, to be just a warm toy for men to use and Oikawa can’t help but think you look best like this, cocks penetrating both your front and back holes, your body squeezed between two bodies. And he fondly smiles at how you have Hanamaki’s face between the palms of your hands, your lips locked in a sloppy kiss as your tongue ravages the strawberry blonde’s mouth, searching for the pills the man had playfully placed on the tip of his tongue in front of your very eyes before winking at you and telling you to come and get them yourself if you wanted them so badly. 

They keep your daily training a surprise, mixing up who gets to wreck your body each day, how many cocks and rounds of cum you’ll need to pay with, what pills and dosage you get. Always keeping you lost and confused, making sure your mind is just a muddled mess that can only think of reaching your next high by any means necessary. 

Hell, even Iwaizumi takes part when he realizes that you’re beyond the point of no return, that Oikawa wasn’t joking when he said that there is no other choice for you anymore. This is your life now. This is who you are now. This is your “happily ever after”. He knows all that, can see all that in the way your dazed eyes only come to life at the sight of your addiction, your otherwise listless body perking up at the sound of the tiny objects rattling in their container. And yet a small sliver of guilt has him growling at you to get on all fours, ensuring your face isn’t visible, turning you into just another body for him to mindlessly use as he pleases. 

It’s an uncomfortable position, borderline painful as your knees rock back and forth on the hard floor with every brutal thrust of Iwaizumi’s hips. But you don’t care, the aching pain in your legs just dull background noise as you fixate on the tablets scattered on the floor in front of your face, dropping your entire upper body low to the ground, only your hips raised high as your mouth snaps forward. You’re so close and you mewl as your lips make contact with the first pill, uncaring of the pitiful sight you make licking and lapping the floor, whimpering when a hand firmly grabs you by the hair and roughly pulls your face away from your feast. 

“Maybe we should get you a dog bowl, cutie. It’s humiliating even for you to be eating from the dirty floor like that. Hold her hair for me, Iwa-chan.” 

You crane your neck back and forth, jaw jutting forward as you frantically fight against the tight grip holding you back, mouth drooling and tongue extending like a ravenous animal. But it’s no use and you whine, too focused on your unfinished “meal” to notice how Oikawa is still standing in front of you, cock pulled out from his pants, his hands rapidly fisting the shaft. And only when thick white spurts glaze the remaining pills do you whip your attention towards him, staring with hopeful wide eyes when he crouches in front of you and grabs your face. 

“When Iwa-chan lets go of your hair, you’ll get to have the rest of your treats, but you also have to eat the special seasoning I’ve generously given you, okay? If I see even a speck of it left, you’re not getting anything tomorrow, understand?”

Oikawa laughs at how vigorously you nod your head and with a nod in Iwaizumi’s direction, you’re released and the two men watch on as you lick the floor until it’s sparkling clean, slumping your face in the mess of your own drying saliva as you reach euphoria once more. You wail as Iwaizumi shoves you off a cliff and into floating clouds of bliss with one last thrust, the drugs in your system weaving a comforting cocoon around you that you melt into, unable to escape its soothing pull, giggling in content as his seed fills you to the brim. 

There’s silence as Iwaizumi pulls out of you, tucking himself back into his pants before sitting besides Oikawa, joining him as he continues observing your used and drugged up body sprawled across the floor, a dopey smile on your face as cum begins to leak out of your spent pussy. 

Minutes pass and Iwaizumi sighs, knowing what Oikawa is waiting for him to ask despite how insistent he has been over the years about not wanting to be involved in this particular side of the business...

“Are you going to have her start working at the brothel soon? She seems just about ready.” 

“Not yet. I want to give her a few test runs first before I have her work full-time at that establishment. She’s only been with the four of us, so I’m curious to see how she is with a complete stranger. It’s perfect timing too since Sawamura is coming over for a meeting soon and I know he won’t damage the goods if I gift her to him for a night or two. Plus, she hasn’t completely lost her mind yet so we can get some more use out of her before we toss her aside...”

The brunette rambles on, tone light and airy as if he’s just discussing the weather or a TV show he watched, as if he’s not mere feet away from a woman he’s utterly destroyed and rebuilt into just another brainless profit-making doll. 

And Iwaizumi tunes him out, already having heard almost this exact speech countless times by now, unable to even keep track of how many others like you there have been in the past, unwilling to think about how many more there will be in the future. But he snorts at Oikawa’s typical closing line.

“I guess it’s almost time to find a new cute maid.” 

[cades-outsider]

Older Johnny Lawrence X Reader *SMUT*

Warnings? SMUT! SMUT! Language! And praising!

Praise Me

Walking along the side walk you smile to yourself as Cobra Kai comes into view, one of your good friends Johnny Lawrence had opened up his very own dojo. You knew his past with his sensei Krease, Johnny after much trusting had told you everything that Krease had put in his head and done to him.

Johnny explained that he was not going to put the kids in that situation Krease had done to him and his friends. Pushing open the door the famous bell chimes as you walk in, the door closing behind you.

Johnny comes out of the back drying his hands with a towel, he smiles once he sees that it’s you. "Y/n hey" he greets pulling you into a hug.

You inhale his scent which consisted of fresh green mint, causing you to swoon as you hugged back. "Hey Johnny" you giggle.

Oh how much he loved that pretty giggle of yours, it was music to his ears. "Where’s Miguel" You ask curiously as you both pulled away from the hug.

"His mom called him, she said she needed to speak to him about something" Johnny shrugs throwing the towel on the beating mannequin as you like to call.

"How about we talk in my office" He says smugly, now that he had a office causing you to giggle.

"I’d like that Sensei Lawrence" You play along as he takes your hand and leads you into his office.

He goes to his fridge and pulls out one of his Coors Banquets Beers "want one?" He questions looking at you.

You debate for a moment before shaking your head "sure, why not" you start "-I gotta see what the hype is about these, they must be good if the Johnny Lawrence loves them" You tease as he takes the two beers and places them on his desk.

He sits in his office chair while you sit in the comfortable chair on in front of him "well then-" he stops for a moment to do his famous 'beer opening trick' "-here you go" he says handing it over to you before doing the same with his.

He holds his beer up in the air "to...." he hums as he thinks of nothing to celebrate to causing you to laugh.

"To Johnny Lawrence doing something he loves" You say rising your beer up hitting it with his gently.

Johnny smirks shaking his head before taking a sip, you do the same "Hmm, pretty good Lawrence" you chuckle as you hold the bottle in your hand resting it on your thigh.

"Speaking of love.... have you been seeing anybody?" Johnny asks taking a bigger gulp of his beer this time.

You chuckle "nope, I swear I grew up in the wrong time" You joke.

Johnny raises his brows "why do you say that?" He asks curiously.

You sigh "it’s just the men, well I can’t even say men. Boys, are so not gentlemen like at all" You say shaking your head.

"Why what are they like now?" He asks genuine.

"They are definitely not romantic-" you scoff "-they don’t open doors for me, or the don’t do any romantic gestures" you sigh "-there just not educated" you giggle at the last part causing Johnny to smile.

"Oh and the sex!" You groan throwing your head back "-the sex is just horrible" You finally let loose.

You notice Johnny’s hands grip his beer firmer as his hand starts to turn white before he calms down "seems like you get the young and dumb batch" he chuckles gulping down some more beer.

"Ugh, remember my last relationship?" You question.

"Oh that guy was a dick, I can’t believe he did that to you" Johnny says gritting his teeth.

"Me either" you say remembering the time your ex treated you so badly you ran to Johnny’s at three am at night, but he held you that whole night not complaining once.

"But you were there for me" You hum as a small smile forms onto your lips.

Johnny smiles "always" he says as your eyes connect, his beautiful icy clue ones piercing through yours as if he was reading everything about you in that moment.

  "Johnny I need to tell you something" You say breaking the already sexual tension.

  He clears his throat "yes?" He asks taking another sip of beer.

  'I'm into you' You think "I'm into older men" But you actually say.

  Johnny's eye widen, until slowly a small smile appears on his face now feeling confident that he could have a chance with you.

  "Let me prove to you that all men aren't like that" He stops for a moment "-let me take you out on a date" he finishes as he slides the unfinished beer in the trash beside him.

  You're taken aback but also excited seeing as you have kinda caught feelings for him "alright deal" you smile.

  Johnny smiles widely in return "great I'll pick you up at 7" he says with a small smirk.

  "In the firebird?" You smirk.

  "You know it baby" Johnny winks as you get up, getting ready to leave.

  He stands up "give me that, I don't need my gir-" he stops before shaking his head "-I don't need you drinking and driving" he says taking the beer from you and placing it in the trash.

You chuckle at his antics "I wasn’t even going to carry it" you say sticking out your tongue at him playfully.

"Hey. That’s offensive" He says 'seriously' as he leans on the wall.

"Oh I bet Sensei" You joke as you start walking out of the office.

"I’ll see you at seven!" You hear Johnny yell as he runs out of the office.

You turn around "I’ll see you at seven" you repeat as a blush forms over your cheeks.

Johnny rushes over to the door and opens it for you letting you walk out, as he does he kisses your cheek. As you walk out of the building and into your car, your heart races as you could not believe that just happened.

On the way home all you could do was smile, excited for your date with Johnny. Someone who you caught feeling for on the first day of meeting but didn’t know.

You make it home and start rummaging through your dresses trying to pick out something not to like 'desperate' as they call or something to revealing.

You finally just decide on a white well fit thigh high dress and some black heels. You weren’t insecure about your body, but sometimes you would get self cautious.

Deciding to go all out tonight you apply the littlest amount of make up and curl your hair.

Meanwhile, Johnny was throwing almost every piece of clothing he owned around his room, panicking as he couldn’t find anything to wear. With a frustrated sigh he throws all his clothes back in his closet before seeing a white suit catch his eye.

'That’s the one' he thought as he picked it up and slid it on. By the time you both were done it was around 6:50. Johnny was thankful that you only lived five minutes away from him.

He quickly got in his fire bird and made his way to you. You were more excited than anything. I mean how often is it that a guy you like asks you out on a date, and especially a decent guy.

Johnny arrived at your door at exactly 7 o'clock on the dot. Hearing a knock on your front door you walk as fast as you can to the door in heels, letting out a breath of nervousness as you open the door.

  Johnny looks up, his mouth gape open as he looks at your beauty "I- wow were matching" you say noticing Johnny's white suit that he looked mighty fine in.

  "-wow you look beautiful" Johnny says mind blown, I mean he always admired you and thought you were the most gorgeous girl but now you just looked breath taking.

"Thank you Johnny, you look handsome... as always" you compliment with a sweet smile.

The smallest blush falls onto his face, so faint you almost missed it. Johnny holds out his hand gesturing for you to take it "shall we go?" He asks as you take his hand.

  "We shall" You comment with a side smile.

He leads you to his well cleaned up fire bird, rushing to your side to open the door for you "my lady" he jokes, you giggle as you slide into the passengers seat.

"Thank you may gentlemen" You blush, as Johnny runs over to his side entering the car and cranking it up.

The drive was silent, comfortable silence of course. You both were just simply enjoying each other's company as you finally made it to your destination.

A small fancy Italian restaurant, Johnny gets out of his side and rushes to your side opening the door before you could even put your hand on the handle to get out.

You smile as your heart swells with joy and love, "thank you" you comment politely as you get out of the car.

Johnny closes the door and takes your hand "my pleasure love" He says grabbing your hand and walking you up to the door once again opening the door for you leading you in.

  A waitress leads you to your guys table handing you your menus and asks for your drink preference. Soon she leaves giving you some time to pick out your orders before bringing your favorite drink back and Johnny's coke.

  You both order your meals after she returns, before going back and putting your orders in. You rest your chin on your hand as you gaze up at Johnny.

Johnny freezes "what? Is there something on my face?" He asks wiping his clean face.

You chuckle "no of course not you’re just a pretty sight" you reply giddily.

He smirks "is that all you see me as?" He questions playfully.

"No I see you as much more" you wink as the waiter brings your food before Johnny could reply back.

She places the food on the table before quickly rushing off, noticing the long awaited sexual tension.

You clear your throat "so, how does it feel to be back into karate sensei?" You spark up, interested as you both dig into your meals.

"It feels great to be back, granted Miguel is my only student but he’s a good kid" He compliments with a small smile.

"Yeah, I’ve seen you guys practice he’s getting better" You say impressed.

"I know, he deserves so much more than I can give him" Johnny says looking down.

"Hey don’t say that, you’re doing amazing and I’m so proud of you. He couldn’t learn from anyone better" you say, completely dissing his thought.

Johnny looks up, both of your eyes connect. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife "you wanna get out of here?" He asks before putting his fork down.

"Yes" you answer quickly already getting excited for what’s to come.

The waitress comes over "we’ll take the check please" Johnny says with a smile that reads 'were in a hurry here' to which the waitress quickly nods becoming awkward.

Though she doesn’t move "uh- you guys didn’t finish so there for it’s on the house and you get to keep your meals" she explains grabbing two container boxes and handing them to you.

"Thank you" you say politely as you hand one to Johnny and the waitress quickly runs away.

"That was weird I’ve never heard of that before" you say as you put your food in the box, Johnny doing the same knowing you’ll both get hungry eventually.

"I know" He comments as he grabs your hand and quickly rushes you guys outside.

He places the boxes on the hood of his car before gently pushing you up against the passenger door and connecting his lips to yours in a passionate kiss.

You reply by pushing your lips against his firmer, before things could escalate to quickly and you’d give the whole restaurant a show Johnny quickly pulls away opening the door for you letting you sit, and getting into his side.

Nothing was said while driving, just heavy breathing as you both were excited for what was to come once Johnny made it to his apartment.

Soon you guys parked and Johnny quickly rushed over to your side of the door and helped you out. Before you could make it to Johnny’s door he placed his lips on yours. Your back hitting the door, he quickly pulls out his keys and opens the door letting you both in and closing it with his foot.

Johnny carries you over to the wall and pushes you up against it, not to hard but enough to make you weak. He reconnects your lips back together once again in a rougher kiss, still gentle.

He pulls away to trail slow and sweet kisses to your neck to which he immediately finds your sweet spot as you let him know by moaning.

He continues to abuse that spot as you start to speak up "Johnny.... more" you practically beg.

He caved in and taps your leg signaling for you to jump to which you do. The ends of your dress ripping immediately, causing you to gasp and Johnny to laugh.

"It’s fine I didn’t like it anyways" you say breathlessly as being turned on took you out of your thinking process.

You roughly place your lips back onto his as he carries you over to the kitchen counter roughly swapping everything away with his free arm before sitting you on it.

"Then you won’t mind if I take it off?" He asks for consent, shyly because he didn’t want to mess this up.

"Yes please" You say giving him permission.

As a gentleman he doesn’t finish ripping the dress but he pulls the zipper down slipping it halfway off til it wrapped around your waist.

Your strapless white bra being exposed to which Johnny admires as he places more kisses over your neck and the top of your boobs.

Johnny picks you back up before this time carrying you in his room placing you gently on his bed. "God your so beautiful" He compliments as he kisses up your chest, going down to your stomach.

He pulls the rest of the dress down, discarding it somewhere in the room. He runs his hand gently around your thighs and stomach.

You whine in pleasure he comes back up and places his fingers over the button on the front of your bra "can I?" He asks watching your eyes for any sign of discomfort to find none.

You simply nod giving your consent as he unbuttons the bra slowly dragging it down your body before discarding of it. Your breasts now bare to him to which you look away shyly as your hands start to cover yourself up.

"Don’t my love, you look like a goddess" he starts before placing kisses all over your chest "-you’re so perfect" Johnny finishes, love dripping with every word.

He swirls his tongue around your harden nipple causing your back to arch as a moan falls out.

He places kisses everywhere down your stomach until he gets to your soaking core. He tugs at the side of your underwear asking to pull it off to which you nod letting him do so.

Your bottom half now completely bare to him, he spreads open your legs resting his hands on your thighs. He kisses just above your core, slowly he trails more kisses until he finally connects his lips with your clit, sucking harshly but lovingly.

"You’re so beautiful" He praises once more as continues his assault on your clit, now slipping two fingers into your dripping core.

Wanting you to cum around his cock, he takes his fingers out before sucking them dry and licking his lips causing more moans to fly out your mouth

"You taste wonderful" he says as lust fills his bow darkened blue eyes.

He pulls his shirt off revealing his toned shaped body before discarding of his pants leaving himself only in his boxers.

"Are you sure you want to do this Y/n" Johnny asks sincerely.

"Of course I want to do this with you Johnny" You comply.

Nodding he removes his boxers letting his hard on slap against your core, both letting out a groan at contact.

Lining his cock up at your entrance he looks up at you once more only for you to nod your head yes.

He slowly slides his cock inside your core, feeling you clench around his cock causing him to moan you following behind feeling him stretch you out.

"I’m going to treat you so well" He says whilst rubbing your thighs slowly thrusting his hips against yours.

You moan "Johnny-" you whimper as he speeds up his pace more.

His cock hitting all the right places and more, thrusting at a firmer pace he grips your hips so he could go faster. Hitting your G- spot dead on causing your back to arch and a moan to escape your plump lips.

"You’re doing so good for me, taking me so well" he compliments as he try’s to contain his breathing and moans.

"Princess, you’re taking my cock in like a good girl" He praises as he slams his hips against yours finding a faster rhythm.

You whimper "so g-good" you stutter as Johnny leans down, readjusting his posture to kiss you.

You run your hands through his hair as you feel your climax reaching. "I’m close Johnny-" you moan aloud as you chase that burning sensation.

"Yeah? You’re going to cum for me beautiful" he continues to praise as he drops a hand down to your core and rubs your clit in figure eights causing you to arch your chest into his and cum around his cock, feeling him twitch as you do so.

Johnny follows behind as he cums inside you, filling you up as he continues to ride out both of your orgasms.

Gently pulling out his cock he turns over to his back and pulls you to lean into his chest. "Words cannot describe how amazing that was Y/n" he says feeling as though he was on top of the world.

You nod agreeing along "it was amazing Johnny" you compliment.

"Y/n.... I love you" Johnny says waiting patiently for your response.

You nuzzle your neck into his; lovingly "I love you Johnny Lawrence"

_______________________________________________

Thank you for requesting @peachymelon69 I hope you enjoyed!

[sinner-as-saint]

Power Over Me - 6

Bucky Barnes x Reader AU

Previous Parts

Run-through: CEO James Buchanan Barnes is a dominant. And he’s spent the last 5 years searching for his perfect submissive. Then one night, he finds you. He thinks everything will fall perfectly into place now; but he thought wrong. Turns out your unfortunate past which still haunts you to this day, and some of his enemies are, well, connected. Things go wrong. And your bond with your dom is tested in many ways…

Themes throughout the series: dom/sub dynamic, smut, dirty talk, angst, fluff, soft dom!bucky

a/n: *sigh* and here we are! This is the last part of the Power Over Me series. Thank you to everyone who loved and supported this series. And thank you for loving soft dom!bucky as much as I did! I love you guys!

3 months later, you found yourself in a much better place.

You were in a much better mental space than you were on the day you left Bucky’s house. You weren’t broken in pieces anymore. You were healing just fine.

The memories still hurt. The betrayal and the lies hurt. And the heartbreak did as well. But none of those even came close to how much your heart hurt when it missed Bucky. You were hurt, but you still loved him. He had changed your life after all, he had gotten you out of a bad place. He showed you how to love again, how to trust. He catered to all your needs. He protected you.

He made you feel safe. But he also lied. And you found out in the most terrible way possible. After that day outside your work building, you never saw Thor again. Guess he had made a mess and had left your life for good this time – and you were thankful for that last part.

That evening, when you packed up some basic things and left Bucky’s house, you went straight to find a hotel room for the night. You still had your amazing job and enough money in your bank account to find a new place. A couple of hard and long days filled with tears later, you found yourself in a cozy little, not too expensive apartment, not too far from work.

You settled in just fine. You did contact the club and asked them if Bucky came by, looking for his money back. And they said no. You did try to pay them their money back still, in the fit of rage and heartbreak that you were in, but they refused to tell you how much he had paid for you initially and they didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. So you had no other choice than to let it go and forget about the club like it was a bad dream.

You settled into your new place over the week, and then Friday night in the first week you heard a knock at your door. You were in the shower so it took you a minute to get to the door. When you finally opened the front door however, you saw nothing but a folded piece of paper on the ground, and no one else was in sight.

Curious, you picked it up and closed the door behind you again. You opened the note and saw that it was in Bucky’s handwriting. Asking you to meet him at the bistro you always went for dinner on Friday nights. It had become a little ritual of yours.

You felt a pang in your chest.

You tore the paper apart bit by bit and then threw it in the trash. Then broke down crying on the floor. Why would he reach out if his love was fake and just for show? Why wouldn’t he just let you be? You loved him, despite how wrong his actions had been. But you didn’t go that night. Instead you curled up in your bed and let your tears fall until you fell asleep.

From then on, each Friday night, at around the same time you’d receive a knock on your door. And you’d open and you’d find a note on the floor at your door. Sometimes you’d open to see what it said, other times you just threw them all in the trash without even opening it.

It was always the same message. Asking you to meet him at the bistro. After the first month, you began questioning yourself. Should you have given him a chance to explain himself before you left that night?

-

Life went on. By the second month, you were back to being yourself again. You had friends, and you went out each weekend and had fun. Each time you were out though, you always kept an eye out for a tall man with dark hair and blue eyes. You often wondered, what would you do if you ever came across Bucky casually and unexpectedly on the streets one day?

Would you stop and listen to what he has to say? Would you pretend he’s just another face in the crowd? Or would you just glare at him and move on? Besides, why was he still trying? Couldn’t he see you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore?

Okay, that was a lie. You died a little each time you heard the knock at your door each Friday night. You couldn’t fight the need to be with him, despite how pissed you were. You wanted nothing more than to just be in his arms again. Or have him hold you in his bathtub again, and kiss you and tell you there’s nothing to worry about because he’s there for you.

Oh you missed him.

 Three months passed this way. Each Friday night you would receive the note – which you tore apart. And you thought that as time would go by, all of it would hurt less. It did. But as time went on, you missed Bucky more and more.

Until one day you hit your limit. That’s it, I’m going to that bistro.

-

You walked in through the doors and the memories came flooding back in. One of the main reasons why you and Bucky used to love this place is because it was very lowkey and quiet. Never crowded and it was very cozy. The little bell rang above you as you walked in.

You scanned the place, your heart racing and then you were sure your heart skipped a beat once you finally saw him. Bucky, in the furthest corner of the room.

He looked at you like he was witnessing a miracle. He was indeed, he had been trying for three months to get you to talk to him. He called when you first left, then you blocked his number after the first try. Then he had his people look for you because he was miserable and he had forgotten how to live without you. He ended up finding the address to your apartment, but he didn’t want to be pushy, or invade your privacy too much. So he figured a handwritten note would do.

Little did he know that three months later, the little note would in fact bring you to him. He was blown away when he saw you walk in. Little brown, body hugging dress, a tan coat, boots – simple but enough to make him want to get on his knees and beg you to come back to him again.

He noticed your hair was longer, it looked great. You wore red lipstick now, you never used to before.

“Bucky.” you were conflicted as you greeted him as politely as you could. There was a pain in your chest. Was it a wave of nostalgia or was it just your heart swelling up with happiness now that you’ve finally met the man you loved?

Hi baby… “Y/N, hi.” He stood up and walked over to pull back your chair for you, like he always did no matter where you went.

You sat down and watched him as he took a seat right across you. He had waited three months for this, he didn’t want to waste any more time. So he got right to it.

“I know you’re hurt. I just need to you listen to me, and then you can… leave if you want to. But I deserve a chance to explain myself.” He spoke, looking down at his folded arms on the tabletop. Okay, he did deserve one chance.

Only upon hearing his voice did you realize how much you had truly missed him. He looked, just as broken as you were. His hair was a little longer, curlier. His eyes were the same, just more tired. His facial hair seemed a little not so well groomed. But he looked good nonetheless.

“Okay. Go on.” You kept your replies short because that lump in your throat wouldn’t let you talk anyways.

He took a deep breath and began. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “I should apologize because what I did was wrong, and you didn’t deserve to find out that way. I should’ve been open and honest about it.” his words brought you back to that first discussion you had in his study that one night. “But my intentions weren’t as petty as you were made to think.”

You were quiet.

He shook his head slightly, thinking back on everything. “I was scared to tell you about the… deal I made with the club. I was scared because you were the most perfect thing in my life. And I was completely in love with you and I couldn’t risk losing you. I needed you way too much. Still do.”

He looked up to find you looking down at your lap. He continued. “When I saw you that night, at the club, I didn’t know you had been involved with Thor before, as his sub. I found out later, when you told me.” This made you look up at him.

Oh.

He continued. “When I saw you that night I… my whole world changed. You were everything I was looking for. And I knew I had to take you home and keep you safe. I had to save you from that place, and from men like Thor.” He paused again, and exhaled loudly. “I never brought you home to show off to him, or as a trophy or whatever the hell he told you.”

His voice was calm still. Sincere, and he hoped to make you see his side of the story. Seeing you were still quiet, he continued talking. “Y/N, I love you. I love you more than I could ever put into words. And I’m sorry for not telling you sooner about what I did.” He paused. You couldn’t move your eyes away from his face. Oh Bucky…

“I thought you said we would tell each other things. Every little thing. Then how did you miss this, Bucky?” you spoke up finally. He hung his head low in shame. “This would’ve hurt much less if you had told me the truth on day one, rather than me finding out through Thor after I spent months loving you. Why did you have to hide such a thing?”

…I spent months loving you… “I was scared. I was scared that you would leave me. And back then I thought that when you do find out the truth one day, you would at least give me the chance to explain myself. Instead you just took off.” He sounded hurt. Then again, so were you.

You sighed, inching forward and making sure to keep your voice down. “I took off because I was heartbroken. And because I’ve been in that situation before where a man bought me and then fed me lies, I-,”

He cut you off. “I didn’t feed you lies! I-,”

You cut him off then. “I’m not done yet.”

He was quiet after that.

“As I was saying, I left because I didn’t know what else I should do. I felt betrayed, Buck. My past hasn’t been easy and you know it.” your words hurt him. “I thought… I didn’t…” you trailed off then took a deep breath and continued, “I couldn’t go through it. Not again. I had just been told that the man I love bought me just to assert dominance over his rival. What would you do, huh?” you waited.

He sighed. “Why did you have to believe him?” he asked, his voice a little shaky.

You scoffed. “I had no other choice. His words made sense at the time, and I was vulnerable and he knew just what to say to break me down. Besides, you had been lying to me, hiding the truth this whole time and Thor, despite being a pure evil person, was the one who told me the truth.” You paused, letting him feel the hurt that you felt that day, three months ago. “I had no other choice but to believe him.”

Bucky was quiet for a little while. Then he spoke up. “Do you forgive me? Don’t I deserve a second chance to make things right?” he asked.

You did forgive him. He did deserve a second chance. But…

You sighed. “Buck, if I go through something like that again, it will kill me.” You referred to the heartbreak.

Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand and held it in his. This was the first time in three months that he touched you, and it nearly made his eyes water. Fuck, he missed you. “Babe, this is you and I we’re talking about. You and I have a special bond.” He looked you right in the eyes as he spoke. “You are the love of my life, and nothing will ever change that.” he said, meaning each word. I love you, damn it!

I love you too…

“Buck…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. You wanted so desperately to hold on to him. You lowered your eyes immediately, fearing you might start tearing up.

He let go of your hand for a brief moment, reached into the inside pocket of his coat and pulled out a long, rectangular box. “Come home. Come back to me, please.” He pushed the box towards you and you knew immediately what it was.

His collar.

Bucky had kept it of course, both the collar and the ring. But he decided not to bring up the ring just yet, one step at a time.

You looked down at the black box with a little bow on it. Your hands itched to touch it. You had missed it, missed having it around your neck. You missed how you used to wear it so proudly – proud that you were his. Bucky’s.

Bucky watched how you hesitated. You didn’t even open the box. Then you looked up at him and he caught the look in your eyes. Oh no…

“Bucky, I, um…” you trailed off, not knowing how to word it properly.

No. No. No. “You found another dom?” he asked, getting protective out of habit. You shook your head at him and sighed.

“He’s not a dom.” You answered. Bucky’s world came crashing down a second time. Oh fuck no…

“Who is he, then?” he asked, not caring of he sounded a little pissed off. How could you… just move on?

You shifted in your seat. “His name’s Steve. I met him recently, through a co-worker.” You answered, taking it slow.

I don’t care. I don’t care. You can’t be with someone else, you’re mine. Bucky’s inner thoughts were haunting him as you spoke.

“I decided to take a break from… all that, and try something a little more lowkey and normal this time. Steve and I are… supposed to be going out tomorrow.” You didn’t know why you felt guilty for saying so.

“Do you like him?” he asked, ready to punch that fucker already.

You chuckled dryly. “I met him once. We’ve been texting and stuff, and I don’t know what you and I are anymore so…” you trailed off. Once you said it out loud, you realized that you didn’t. You didn’t like Steve. No. You loved Bucky. You were just trying to forget him, but you couldn’t.

That’s why you agreed on going on a date with Steve in the first place – to try and forget Bucky, to try and move on. But now that you were here, in front of him with his collar which meant so much to you, right in front of you; you realized that you could never love another man as much as you loved Bucky.

“Oh.” Bucky was hurt and he didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t know what hurt more; that you rejected his collar, or that you were trying to date other people and didn’t need him as your dom anymore. He chuckled, feeling sorry for himself. “Well, look who’s breaking my heart?” he tried to turn it into a joke but couldn’t.

No. I’m not, I still love you. I love you more than anything, Buck please…

“Bucky, I-,”

He cut you off. “No, it’s okay. You’re not wrong. It’s just that, I thought that you and I…” he trailed off. I thought that you and I would end up together like we promised. I thought we would get married and have a family like I always dreamt of. I thought that I would retire and raise our kids with you, in our home. He couldn’t stay any longer. “I gotta go, I guess.” He got up to leave and you were frozen in place.

Don’t go, I love you. Don’t go. “Bucky, the collar…” you wondered if he would take it with him, or would he just leave it here with you.

He sighed, chuckled and looked down at you. You remained seated as he took a step away from the table, ready to leave. “Throw it away on your way out. I… I can’t keep it.” he swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. He instinctively reached out and gently touched your face, grazing your skin with his knuckles. “Thank you for meeting me, and listening to me.”

Then he left. And you didn’t stop him, you were still processing all of it.

---

Bucky spent the entire night and the following day drowning in his sadness, lying on the bed which used to be yours, desperately holding on to all that he still had left of you. He shed tears last night, after he left the bistro. But now, he was just too weak to even cry.

He was broken.

You were in no better shape. After Bucky left, you picked up the collar and made your way to your apartment. You didn’t throw it, you couldn’t. Once you got home, your hands were a little shaky as you put the collar on and stood in front of the mirror.

Oh Bucky… I miss you.

 Saturday evening, Bucky heard a knock at the front door. He lazily walked downstairs and opened the door to reveal someone he least expected.

You.

You looked up at him. Red, watery eyes. His sweater was all wrinkled and his hair was a mess. You weren’t in that great of a shape either to be honest. He looked right at you until he finally realized that this wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. It was actually you.

He wanted to just pulled you inside and give you a tight hug and never let you go again but he waited.

“Hi.” You said, surprisingly, sounding less hurt than you did at the bistro the previous night.

Bucky kept quiet. He frowned a little, remembering clearly that you said you were gonna go out today with what’s his name. “Don’t you have a date to go on to with your little boyfriend?” he sounded like a pissed off, middle aged dad.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and lowering them down because they began watering already. “I met the guy once. He’s not my boyfriend.” You paused and stepped forward just a little. You needed to be close to him so badly. “Besides, I had to come home to you.” you said and it broke him again. But in a good way this time.

You kept your eyes down and continued. “I realized last night that no matter how angry I am, no matter how much I try to move on or forget, no matter where I’ll go, I’ll always need you. I’ll always be yours, because… because I love you, Buck.” you bit your lip and held back a sob.

He couldn’t resist pulling you into his arms any longer. “Baby, come here,” he pulled you inside and closed the door behind you and gave you a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around his torso, tightening your grip around him as you pushed your face into his chest and cried.

“I love you, Buck.” you sobbed. “I love you so much. Please don’t let me go.” Your tears wet his clothes but he didn’t mind. You were here now, you were with him and all was well.

“I know, baby. I love you. And I’m never letting you go.” He cooed, kissing the top of your head. “You’re home now, it’s okay.” He tried to calm you down when he himself held back his tears.

You pulled away to look up at him with tears staining your cheeks. He wiped them all away and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here.” He cooed and kissed down your damp cheek and down your neck. Then he noticed you were wearing his collar again and something in his shifted naturally. “You’re wearing my collar again.” he noted, holding your chin gently.

You nodded. You hadn’t taken it off since last night to be honest. Bucky gave you a look, one you understood all too well. And just like that, it felt like you two hadn’t spent three months apart.

“Would you want to go to my playroom, Y/N?” he asked, using his dom voice that you had missed so much.

“Yes, sir.” You answered, without hesitation.

 And that’s how you found yourself in Bucky’s playroom, cuffed to the big X-cross on the side of the room. He tied each one of your wrists and ankles to each end of the cross. He left your waist unrestrained and something told you he wanted you bound and restrained, but he also wanted to see you squirm. He had you blindfolded and you were left in suspense as he moved around the room.

You could hear him pick up things here and there. You could hear his footsteps getting closer then moving away again.

He finally approached you and gently touched your cheek. Your heart raced in anticipation. “Keep your safe words in mind, Y/N. I will not push your limits too much, however, you will not cum without my permission. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Oh how you had missed that voice of his.

“Do you know why you are here, Y/N? Why I’m having to correct your behavior?” he asked again, and this time you couldn’t tell if he was close by or far away because your own heartbeats rang in your ears.

You worded out your answer as best as you could, despite the nervousness and excitement, and impatience. “Because I left, sir. And because I chose to believe Thor and I got carried away by my emotions. I didn’t give you a chance to tell your side of the story. I should’ve trusted you and known that you would never do anything to hurt me, sir.”

Hmm. Bucky toyed with the suede flogger in his hand. Good enough baby, but…

You waited. He didn’t say anything, instead you just received a smack across the chest with what you knew to be the suede flogger. You gasped, not expecting it. It didn’t hurt that much, it tingled around your erected nipples.

“You’re right. But not entirely.” He spoke and you heard him step aside and you knew he went to pick something up. He approached you again. He stepped closer than where he stood earlier. You felt his warm breath right in between your breasts as he kissed his way up to your neck while positioning a plug right at your puckered hole.

You felt the coldness of the lube and the size of the plug as he pushed it more and more inside you. His lips brushed along your throat as he spoke up again, “Those aren’t the only reasons you’re here, Y/N.” pushed the plug further into you. Your body welcomed it in, desperate to fill the void. Any void, by anything. You relaxed your body as much as you could. But Bucky was making it hard.

He nibbled and kissed right at your most sensitive spots along your neck, whispering as he went. “You are here because you didn’t hear me out.” he managed to get the entire toy in you and his hand pulled away from you. But not his lips, they kept trailing along your throat and collar bones as he spoke.

“You’re here because I love you more than anything in this world and beyond. But you ignored all the love I gave you.” he paused, sucking on your skin before letting it go. “You’re here because you dared to even question the love I have for you.” he kissed along your jaw. “You’re here because in the past three months, there wasn’t a day where your memories didn’t torment me until I broke down completely.”

He kissed down to your breasts again. His words and the softness of his lips were making you lose your mind already. “I begged for you to come back. I was on my knees, screaming your name,” he kissed his way back up to your ear and nibbled on your earlobe, “but you never came back to me.” He purposely brushed his lips against your own. “You’re here because you abandoned me when I needed you the most.” He repeated. “I needed you, Y/N, and you weren’t here because you chose to believe a vile person over me.”

You were breathless and needy by the time he pulled away from you. “Sir, I’m sorry…” You whined. And you earned yourself another smack in between your legs by the flogger. You whimpered, you had forgotten about the plug. But the tingles left behind by the flogger reminded you that it was there, stretching you out, filling you up; snug and deep inside you.

Bucky chuckled, lifting his hand up and gently touching your lips with his finger. He circled your mouth, tracing it softly then dragged that finger down your neck, and in between your breasts and down your stomach and finally, he slipped it in between your legs. He toyed with your folds, his finger parting them with ease. You were soaking wet. “Sorry doesn’t make it better.” He whispered. “You were even on the verge of dating someone else, weren’t you?” He approached you, teasing your entrance with his finger. You moaned, squirming already. “Tell me, would you let him to all this to you?” his voice was deeper, dripping with lust.

You were quick to respond. “No, sir. I would not.”

Hmm. He tortured you even more by just gently pressing his finger against your entrance. You squirmed again, whining with your lips parted. “Would you let him touch you?” Bucky’s lips touched your skin again, near your ear where he whispered, “Would you let him please you? And do all the things that I do to you, huh?” he asked, taunting you. He knew damn well no one could ever satisfy you like he could.

“No sir, please...” you begged, whining.

He chuckled again, finally slipping his finger inside you. Then added another, stretching you out at the same time as the plug. Bucky curled his fingers and stroked you gently. You moaned out loud, squirming and tugging onto the cuffs as his brief touch sent electricity coursing through your veins. “You see? Your body remembers me, Y/N. It knows it belongs to me, and no one,” he leaned in closer to your ear, “No one at all, can touch it. You’re mine, you hear me?”

Oh fuck… “Yes, sir.” You were breathless, and you whined in discontent as he removed his fingers from you, mercilessly. Smack. Smack. You felt the suede flogger against your body again, on your stomach and your breasts this time.

“What color?”

“Green, sir.”

You were dripping already, legs shaking with how wonderful the plug felt but also because you craved him. His touch. You received a few more smacks from the flogger, then he got rid of it. He stepped closer to you on the cross again, his lips brushing faintly against your own as he spoke. “Do you know how miserable I was without you?” he asked, catching you off guard with how soft and quiet he sounded. Which was immediately followed by, “Would you like me to show you?”

You gasped, trembling. His words alone made you almost start to moan like a man woman. “Yes, sir.”

He stepped away. You relied on your hearing to make out where he was, or what he was picking up to punish you with. And then you heard it, the buzzing sound of the vibrator. Bucky walked over to you and placed it in between your legs; right on top of your entrance. You whined immediately as it made contact with your body.

The vibrations reverberated throughout your entire body, making you squirm and tug on the cuffs. You threw your head back and whimpered as he wiggled the wand a little and making you whine louder. You felt your body clench around the plug as he teased you.

“I missed you so much.” He said, softly as he pressed the vibrator further against you, mercilessly. Please…please…please you silently begged. “Do you know how that felt?” he asked, his voice calm but taunting. You didn’t answer, you couldn’t focus on anything. You involuntarily moved your body forward; against the vibrator. Bucky noticed, and he lifted the vibrator off you; denying you even a bit of release. You trashed around and squirmed, moaning again. “This is how it felt.” He hissed right in your ear.

You were still recovering from your denial when you felt a loud smack right on your thigh. You recognized that it was his riding crop. You yelped, not expecting it. He trailed the tip of the riding crop from your thigh, up to right in between your legs and gave you a little smack there, making you cry out again before he brought it up all the way to your breast.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Smack. You yelped. Bucky stepped closer and tilted your head back and kissed you deeply. More like invaded your mouth like he owned it; pushing his tongue past your lips and stroking the top of your mouth like it was nothing. You whimpered as he pulled away despite knowing you wanted more. “It’s so frustrating to want something so terribly, then just have it snatched away from you so mercilessly, isn’t it, Y/N?”

You earned yourself a spank right in between your legs when you didn’t reply. Your body clenched around the plug again, you moaned wantonly. “Answer me.” He sounded a little more stern.

“Yes it does, sir. Please…” you begged. He didn’t say anything. Instead, you felt the vibrator being pressed against your clit again.

Bucky pressed the vibrator further against your core, making you drip even more and moan louder, making you squirm and making your body beg for him. “I was yearning for you, my little pearl.” He sounded soft and quiet again. His actions anything but. He wiggled the wand around and make you scream louder. “I was alone. Broken and empty. I needed you but you weren’t here.” He moved the toy from between your legs, trailing it up your body, circling your erected nipples with the tip of the wand and then back down to where you craved it the most.

You were sure if it weren’t for the blindfold, you would have tears streaming down your face by now.

“Sir, please… I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed and listened. We could’ve worked it out.” You were breathless and whimpering. Bucky hummed at your response but then kept toying with you.

For quite a while, he kept at it. You begged him incessantly, but he denied you each time. He teased you and denied you your release like he owned your very being. Your pleas were incessant, and wanton. But he still wouldn’t give in. He kept going until your body trembled against the big cross. Until your pleas became incoherent, and your spit trailed down your chin. You were a mess.

He removed the vibrator off your body abruptly, deciding he had messed with you enough. You whined again at the loss of contact. No... please…

“Sir, please…”

You heard him carelessly throwing the wand and the other equipment on the bed before stepping closer to you. “It’s okay angel, I’m here now.”

You felt him kiss his way down your body; starting from your neck all the way down to your legs, where he untied your ankles. He kissed up your thighs again, then pulled the plug out making you squirm. Your wrists were both still cuffed to the cross as he lowered his pants, picked your legs up and wrapped them around his waist. His cock briefly brushed against your wet folds in the process and you whimpered.

“What color, Y/N?”

“Green.” Oh fuck… please.

Bucky had done his waiting, months of it. Now all he wanted was you. To remind you that you belong with him. All he wanted was to hear you scream as he makes you cum around him. So he wasted no time in aligning his throbbing tip to your dripping wet entrance.

He pushed himself into you; stretching you out. His nails digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, as he filled you up like always; making you whine and moan as he went. You were both gasping by the time he filled you up entirely. “You’re mine.” he growled in your ear. “Tell me.” He stayed still, allowing himself to feel your walls clenching around his cock. “Tell me you’re mine.”

You whined. Oh fuck… “I’m yours, sir please...”

Bucky started rocking in and out of you, without wasting any time. You felt all of him; your walls clenched around his thick cock as he started out with slow strokes and then gradually sped up into you. “You’re not going anywhere, you hear me?” he asked. And you nodded pathetically.

You felt all of him, the bumpy and the velvety skin of his length. He felt incredible as he stroked your walls with his pulsating cock. You were a moaning mess in no time. “Promise you’re never gonna leave me.” He hissed, speeding up into you, absolutely fucking you into the wall behind you.

You whined like a desperate brat. “I promise, sir…” you didn’t even know if you made sense anymore. Because in your head you didn’t. All you could think of was his cock, and how well it filled you up. He pushed his head into the crook of your neck and swore under his breath.

He fucked you relentlessly; earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls. You soon felt the familiar pressure forming; pressing inside you as the familiar warmth spread all over your body. You moaned wantonly.

Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left; your mind a foggy mess. Your clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you, and he soon quickened his pace; earning even more moans and mewls from you.

He pounded into you as fast as he could. He moaned right into your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back like it always did. “You’re all mine!” he growled again, biting down on your skin.

Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace; pounding into you relentlessly. The pleasure built nicely as he took you higher… and higher… and higher.

“Sir, may I please cum?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You were so thoroughly fucked out you could barely talk properly.

“Yes, angel. Cum for me, cum all over my cock…” he breathed into your ear. You couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock; screaming. Walls clenching around him. Bucky’s thrusts became irregular and slower as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls; moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him, both of you gasping for air.

“I love you, baby.” he said, breathless just as you.

“I love you more.” you responded.

 Your mind was hazy from there on. And you were only able to reorient yourself once he pulled you into his lap in the bathtub; both of you surrounded by warm water. And once you did, tears began escaping your eyes again.

“Are you okay, my little pearl?” he asked, tightening his arms around you.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, hugging him tighter. He kissed the top of your head.

“It’s okay baby. Don’t apologize. We’ll heal, both of us. And we’re gonna be okay, together.” He cooed, stroking your hair gently. You placed a soft kiss on his chest.

“I was so rash, and unfair.” You argued, softly as you pulled away from his chest.

He smiled at you, cupping your face. “You were angry and hurting, baby. You had every right to be. I messed up by not telling you the truth sooner. I should’ve be honest from the start.” He said, looking you deep in the eyes.

“I should’ve stayed. Just to give you a chance to explain yourself.” you argued back.

He shook his head. “You were protecting yourself from being hurt again. It’s okay, babe. We’re okay, look.” He leaned in to give you a deep kiss, proving to you that there was no hard feeling between you two anymore. He kissed down your neck, gently and you noted that your collar was off again. You smiled.

“I love you, Buck.” you said again. You would say it a thousand time but it still wouldn’t do justice to how much love you had for this man.

“I love you too, baby.” he kissed your forehead. “Tell me something,” he sat straighter with you still in his lap, “When you’re ready, and when we’ve both healed completely, and when I’ve made up for the mess I made,” he paused, “one day, you will marry me, right?”

You chuckled, leaning in to cup his face and kissed him on the nose. “I will.” you hugged him again, tighter this time. “Why do we always have these serious talks in bathtubs?”

He laughed. “I love you so much.” He mumbled against your neck. You said you loved him back, and Bucky could feel his heart healing already. And yours was too. This was all you both needed; each other.

It’s true then, huh. Bucky thought.

There was this thought in his head, which haunted him during the time that you were away from him these past three months. Turns out, it wasn’t haunting him – it was just a reminder. That at the end of the day, he was lost without you. He was incomplete without you. He’d even go to say that he needed you a tad bit more than you needed him.

It’s you, baby. It’s always been you.

His inner voice spoke up again as he held you in his arms in that bathtub, wondering if he’ll ever have enough time in this lifetime to even show you just how much you mean to him. He knew then, that instead of being the other way around all along, it was always you who had power over him.

[btssunnyboy]

Deadly Protection - Choi San - PART 1

The hate he felt for his other clients, was nothing compared to how he felt about you. But maybe him liking you, isn’t the best possible outcome.

Word Count - 3,036

Warning - Progressive yandere, profanity, Chan is fucking mean, one misogynistic comment, and a sexual innuendo.

BTS , NCT , ATEEZ - Request Open

__________________________________________

Working with over pampered celebrities was his expertise. He knew all the in and outs of this industry, but he had too. As much as he hated the people he worked with, he was still getting paid to protect them with his life. In order to do so he needed to know every possible outcome of every possible situation. And that hatred for those other clients built a pit of anger and despair in his stomach as he walked closer to the door. The thought of meeting the shitty person behind almost made him change his mind and walk away. But that key word almost is something big that should be taken into consideration. With a deep breath, San swallowed his pride and proceeded to make his presence known to those in the room.

A few sets of eyes shifted towards his direction and the only thing he could do is bow his head. Within a second those in the room turned back to their original conversation and paid the man in the comer no mind as he stared off aimlessly through the window. It was oddly strange that no one was rushing up to him, or pointing him towards the one person he was sworn to protect. This whole ordeal was causing a pit to rise in his stomach, and his gut feelings were always right.

“She has to be on set in ten minutes! Where is she!” One of the women in the dressing room bellowed out loudly as she checked her watch for the third time. Her eyes acted as if they were gonna pop out of her skull at any given moment. And that made San’s blood run cold. Was this mystery lady about to be another pain in his ass, were you somehow even more of a spoiled, entitled bitch then he had thought? Should San give up this opportunity right here, right now.

Another lady in the room, that he assumed was an assistant, came up behind the previous woman and tried to soothe her. Small back rubs and encouraging words did not seem to do the trick, as he watched her hissy fit continue to unfold in front of him. The assistant took a shaky breath into her lungs before she spoke, “Listen, Y/n has never let you down before! I promise, it’s probably just traffic that’s keeping them.”

Ah, so his client is the famous Y/n, who is known for her more villainous roles on the silver screen. If you’re anything like you’re characters, he’s gonna take that as a big red flag. But before he could form more of an obnoxious opinion on you, the dressing room door was being pushed open. Rather harshly as it made San stumble about, before he could reach for the gun that was hidden within the confines of his jacket just as his fingertips grazed the holster, he was met with pleading eyes. That was just begging for some peace at that moment.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize you were standing there.” The voice was panicked as you rushed to his aid. Your eyes as wide as they’d go as you looked over his arm. Almost as if you were more worried about the built man in the corner then your own safety. As you had walked up to a complete stranger without inspecting more of your surroundings. “Are you okay, do you need anything?”

San’s curiosity spiked just by watching you interact with him, as you’ve known each other since you were kids. Your soft hands rested on his bicep as you tried to inspect for any injuries that you may have caused. And he found it quite cute when reliziation hit you, and you tried to make the distance between two of you greater. You were invading his personal space, and he appreciates you backing off. But before he could even answer your questions, the assistant from before harshly shoved her shoulder into his.

“Y/n, where the hell were you! Sasha has been panicking like crazy!” San felt his eye twitch at the high pitched voice of the assistant. They could have been nicer with this whole ordeal, it’s not that hard to ask a question. But instead this lady wanted to raise her voice and practically spit in your face, and then have the audacity to get mad when you took a few moments to answer. “You’ve got a voice, don’t you?”

“Amber I’m so sorry I was late, but traffic was terrible and random cars kept following me.” You explained as you tried to put down your purse. When you made eye contact with him, for some reason it felt nice and familiar. Even though you know for a fact you have never met this man in your life. “I promise this won’t happen again.”

“It better not, or you can kiss any letter or recommendations goodbye.” Sasha stormed out of the dressing room and dragged Amber along with her. A saddened look on her face as they simply brushed right passed you. “You have less than ten minutes to get ready for the scene.”

You harshly rubbed your hands down your face as you took in a deep breath. All these doubtful thoughts of the movie started racing in, and you wondered if this was all worth. Getting treated like trash just because you were late one time, and then threatening to trash your name up and down the boulevard. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why Amber decided to take her anger out on you.”

“You say sorry too much, besides that hit felt like nothing.” San slightly smiled as he tried to keep the conversation small. Those two were already pissed and he doesn’t want you getting into any more trouble. He cleared his throat loudly as he started towards the door. “I will just step outside and let you get ready. Just knock on the door three times and we’ll head down to the set.”

Before he could step out the door, you held out your hand. A small gesture, that he was not used to at all. He was used to getting yelled at to guard the doors and make sure no pervert is snooping through the windows. His wrinkled eyebrows gave away his confusion as he eyed your hand just a little bit longer than necessary. The small rings that glittered in the light complimented your hand nicely, everything seemed to compliment you nicely. “Just so we’re starting off on the right foot, I’m Y/n, and I’m going to guess that you’re Choi San my new bodyguard.”

It was oddly strange how the first interaction with you had San’s heart beating a little faster than normal. He was so used to being with distasteful people, that didn’t care about anyone but themselves. But truth be told everything felt different when it came to you. You apologize profusely even when things weren’t your fault, you never raise your voice and you’re always so kind. Even to some of the dumb people that over step their boundaries, but that’s his job to pay attention to those types of people. It’s his job to protect you and yet it seems like you’d lay it all on the line to protect him.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but he does feel a connection. A connection that runs deeper than a simple coworker type of relationship, but at the same time he knows this has to stay strictly in the business type of situation. But at this moment it’s not like he could act on these so-called feelings, as your manager had other plans for your own love life. Which was stupid in his opinion, as you were your own perosn and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

“Don’t they just look fantastic together!” Sasha gushed beside him as she looked at her new couple. You were standing there semi awkwardly as the dude proceeded to put his arm around your waist. But it started to drift lower and lower and San could feel his blood boil within. Before he could even step one foot forward, you calmly removed his arm altogether. Within a second Sasha had to put her two cents in once more. “Y/n, stop! That pose is perfect, it shows how close you two are!”

“No offense, Sasha, but Chan and I barely know each other.” You forced a tight lipped as Chan’s hand tried to rub soothing circles on your hip. This relationship is just PR for the new movie you two are, but it felt so grimy. Lying to your fans just so they’ll buy a ticket and waste their own money on you. Just because they see the two main characters getting close with one another.

“I mean you could always take me up on my offer, and go on a date with me.” Chan smiled flirtatiously at you as he twisted your body to face him. His eyes staring longingly into your while his hands began to move to your lower back. Then he leaned over to whisper in your ear so that no one could hear. “Besides, if you have a good time at dinner, maybe we can have some more fun back at my hotel room.”

You kept your mouth shut because you knew that if you opened your mouth vomit would cover him from head to toe. But it seems like that decision was already made for you, as Sasha’s eyebrows quirked up at the idea. The idea of her two leading costars getting flirty at a candle lit dinner. It would drive the press crazy which in result would drive up so much more buzz about the movie. “That’s perfect, Amber will have everything set up by tonight!”

Dread filled your entire body at the thought of having to spend a night with him. You know it’s for press, and you know it’s for the fans, but still it’s the thought is stomach turning. But beside you, Chan, was having the opposite reaction. One of his eyebrows were cocked in and he wore a sly smirk. You could tell that his stomach was filled with something else than bile, like yours was. His fingertips brushed against your chin, as he pulled your face a little closer. His lips barely brushed against yours, as he softly spoke. “I’ll see you tonight sweetheart.”

You watched him walk away as you tried to keep your composure, but it was hard. Dealing with a guy like him was terrible. They never took social cues, or read the room in any way. The only thing that filled their blown up head of getting laid. Quickly slipping away you tried to make it back to the dressing room without anyone noticing, but you knew that you’d always have a shadow.

“Why can’t they have his girlfriend in the show go on a date with him! I’m his rival, what good is gonna come from this.” You huffed lightly as you turned to face the man that followed you. “I’m sorry you probably don’t wanna hear all my complaining.”

“Talking helps, and it’s obvious you need someone to listen.” San shrugged his shoulders as he took a seat on the plush couch, but he tried to keep a respectable distance between the two of you. “And I’m your bodyguard. I'm here to help with any problems you might have, so lay it on me.”

For once someone actually cared to listen to what you have to say. It felt like a wave of relief washed over you, because you felt safe having this conversation with him. You hoped that after this you two would have more conversations, because seriousness isn’t needed every second of the day. You just hoped he felt that way too.

“Let’s hope this doesn’t take long.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’m all ears no matter how long it takes.”

_______________________________________

You lightly patted down the bottom of your dress as you started walking towards the elevator. Chan had asked you to meet him down in the lobby, because he said he has a small surprise. Even though you know you needed to focus on the man you’re about to go on a date with you couldn’t. As cliche as it sounds you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering to San. The poor guy who has his ear talked off for over an hour, just by you complaining about Chan. But he still listened, his eyes were alert with every single word that passed through your lips. You sighed heavily as the elevator dinged showing that you were now on the right floor.

“You look stunning.” Chan said, surprisingly nice. Without the hint of any sexual undertones to it. You smiled slightly as you gripped his outstretched hand. He may be acting nice now, but you know you never should let that guard down tonight. Here’s to two hours of your life that you’re never gonna get back.

“You’re not gonna be quiet the whole dinner are you?” Chan jokes as he tries to nonchalantly sip his drink. His eyes stared back into yours with curiosity swimming in them, but he waited patiently for your answer. “Hmm?”

“I’m just looking through the menu right now,” You tried to keep yourself busy as long as possible. Because no offense to him, but you could feel your brain cells deteriorating the more you spoke to him. All you wanted to do was go back to your room and go to sleep. For once sleep seems a lot more interesting than keeping a conversation going with this man. You bit back the urge to laugh as you heard him huff.

“For fifteen minutes? Damn, I didn’t realize picking a meal could be that hard.” His words made your head pulse with a headache every time he decided to speak. But the stupid look on his face made it clear that he thought his words were just conversational pieces. And it took all the willpower in your body to not chuck the wine in your glass at him. But he didn’t seem to care as he started to scroll aimlessly through his stupid phone.

The moment the waiter came over you quickly rushed your order out of your mouth. The sooner you say it the sooner it might come, and the sooner you can leave this ass in the restaurant. Throughout dinner you could feel eyes staring holes into the back of your head. But every time you tried to catch a glimpse of them, they’d always disappear. Your soul nearly left your body as a rough hand was placed upon your shoulder.

“You need to leave, right now.” San has a calm demeanor, but you could tell something was wrong by the sternness in his voice. Chan eyed him worriedly, as he watched him out his arm around your waist. Before you two even stepped one foot out of the restaurant he placed his jacket over your head. You assumed it was to protect you from the rain. “Keep your head down, and walk as fast as you can. I’ll explain everything when we’re in your hotel room.”

You listened without a second thought as you raced back to your room. Ignoring the pain in your ankles from your high heels digging into them harshly. The only thing on your mind was the way San’s hands rested protectively rested on your waist. Before you stepped into the hotel you noticed all the vans that were starting to surround the restaurant and many different people emerged from them. Paparazzi, along with fans seemed to camp out in front of the restaurant. Now you were glad to be in the safe walls of San’s hotel room.

“Chan sent a tweet exposing your location and people started to figure out the hotel you were staying at as well. So I knew I needed to get you out of there as soon as possible.” Of course that dumb ass tweeted out where you two were. But then again it doesn’t surprise you, he’s always been one who loves any type of attention that he could receive. “Maybe it’s best you stay in my room tonight, just in case any fans put two and two together.”

“I really don’t want to be a bother, and besides you have to deal with me enough.” You tried to waive off his offer, even though you knew this was a good idea. You were safer with him no matter. And the thought of someone getting into your hotel room scared the hell out of you.

“Once again, it’s my job to protect you no matter what. And besides Chan is still at the restaurant they’re gonna follow him, and I’d rather not have the thought of you alone on my mind. So please just stay.” San pleaded as he tried to fix the spare bed. Making sure it was comfortable enough for you to sleep in. He smiled slightly as you gave a quick nod, before announcing that you were going to return to your room for a change of clothes. He knew at that moment you were too nice for your own good, and he’s going to have to step up his game in order to keep you safe.

San didn’t understand what came over him that night. Watching you shake slightly under your cover was tearing him to pieces and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t understand why he’s even having these feelings all together, considering you were supposed to be a job, not anything else. But he picked Chan’s lock without a second thought and proceeded to show him why exposing your location was a bad idea. Chan’s room was unrecognizable, by the time San was down with it.

Glass shattered in every direction, piles of it littered the floor. Multiple pieces of his clothes were ripped and torn straight from the seams. His bed was turned upside down, with the sheets thrown across the room. Hopefully this gets San’s message across, but he’d be more than happy to take this straight to Chan’s face.

[roger-that-cap]

jack pendleton

summary: moving into an apartment to get away from your last relationship was fun all fun and games until you met your extremely attractive across-the-hall neighbor, who makes awesome cookies and even better novels.

author!bucky x reader

warnings: no legitimate warnings besides swearing, it kind of moves just a weensie bit fast but i think it’s cute, minimal angst, I WROTE THIS IN ONE DAY and that is a warning tbh so expect mistakes in this hunk a junk-

word count: 6.2k!

Searching for your new apartment was a terribly long and boring process, but even you couldn’t deny that finally moving in was heavenly. 

It was the first thing that you did by yourself after having a mutual break up with your boyfriend, and you would be damned if it felt anything but good. He confessed to you that he had fallen in love with a man that he met online. Not only that, but an Italian man that he was teaching English to over a website. He was brave enough to tell you as soon as he realized that he loved the man, so the heartbreak was minimal. 

You never told him, but honestly, you sort of respected him for that. So, with your hidden respect and gratitude, you wished him well and knew that you were going to be the one to find a new place. 

 So there you stood, right in front of your new place with a singular box in your arms, all the others in the smallest U-Haul available to rent that you drove there. You stared at your door for a moment, which read an embroidered C7, and then you fiddled with your keys to unlock it.  

  You had a lot of work to do. 

§§§

By the end of the fourth day, mostly all of your things were put away. You didn’t think you had much to begin with, but unpacking made you realize that you had more than you thought. So with your ambitious mind, you got everything done on your own, even the decorations that you had at your last appointment were on the walls. 

 By the seventh day, it was starting to feel like home again. And that called for a celebration. You got your purse and your car keys, your mind already in the shopping mall. 

  As you stepped out of your door, the door directly across from yours opened too. You didn’t pay them much mind besides flashing a smile and turning around to lock your own door, not even looking at whoever it was properly enough to see them. But when you did, you definitely did. 

 A man with long, brown hair and clear blue eyes was staring at you like a deer in the headlights, and you would have thought that he mistook you for a celebrity if it weren’t for the wrinkle of confusion on his forehead. The first thought that came to your mind was that he was as stiff as a board, and that it was almost comical. The second thought that came to your mind was that this man was very handsome, despite the way that he was looking at you like you had just said the dumbest thing known to man. 

 “Um, hello,” you said, not even having to be loud because you were just a few feet apart. You were tempted to be a smartass and say something rude about his incessant staring, but instead, you reminded yourself that you were going to have to deal with the consequences of your smart remark later on. Humiliation and awkwardness every time you saw him was not what you wanted. “Have a good day.” 

  You turned to your left and walked down the stairs, thankful that you lived on the edge of the hall and could just run down some steps to get away from whatever that “encounter” was. 

§§§

The mall was utterly packed, but that didn’t matter to you at all. You were there to browse for something that was going to make you even happier after your move, and a few people in line weren’t going to bother you. You went in and out of clothing stores, buying a few things here and there, and then on your way out, you passed by a bookstore. 

  You liked books, you really did. But you were avoiding that store like the plague. For you to go into a bookstore with so many options available, you knew that the safest route for your budget was to know what you were getting from the second you walked in. You stood in front of it for a second, debating on going in without looking online beforehand or just coming back another day. Your own feet answered the question for you, and then you were entering the huge book store.

 The shelves were high and wide and sturdy, dark brown and creating isles. Fantasy, Young Adult, Spiritual, Languages. The genres went as far as you could see. And that meant that if you weren’t wise, you could be buying a book from every aisle.

  You counted the number of shelves, seeing that there were almost thirty as far as you knew, and then took out the two dice that you took with you everywhere, for reasons like this. You were indecisive, and two little cubes with black dots on them were as sure as it could get. They were your Decision Dice. They had never steered you wrong before, and today wouldn’t be the day. You were going to roll twice, and if the sum was a number less than ten, then you would multiply it by two, which was your lucky number.  You liked to make things difficult. 

You saw a woman staring at you with cautious eyes as you bent down and shook your closed hand, and you heard her chuckle when she saw the two little cubes roll out of your palm. 

  “Four,” you murmured once you saw three dots on one and one on the other. You picked them up and shook your hand again. “Three. That makes seven, and seven times two makes aisle fourteen.” You picked up the dice (that you would never admit came from your grandpa’s set of Yahtzee) and walked past the still laughing woman in the science fiction aisle.  

  Of course, aisle fourteen was the aisle that you probably had the least business in. Romance. You almost walked away and went for the fifteenth instead, but then what would the point in rolling be? What would stop you from denying the Decision Dice in later situations? You sighed for a second after your own dramatics and looked the shelves up and down, trying to find a title that grabbed you. 

 You walked up and down the aisle, slowly combing through until you saw a book on the bottom shelf by some Jack Pendleton. You frowned. It wasn’t often that you saw men’s names in the romance section, and when you did, you hardly liked what they wrote. The love interest was always flat or too out there to be believable. The female love interest in men’s books always had to be “not like other girls”, and it was worn out. For some reason, you reached down for it anyway, ready to see what you had already seen a million times before. 

  What you really ended up seeing shocked you. 

It was about a man who served in the army oversees and came back an amputee, and became locked in a love triangle between his physical therapist and his best friend, all the while dealing with his sexuality. 

  That was a lot of man versus self. You wanted it. 

You stood up and without second thought walked to the counter, handing the cashier the book and getting out your credit card. 

§§§

You cracked open the book the second you threw your fast food trash away in your trash can. You made yourself comfortable on your little couch and put some light music on in the background, just so that it wouldn’t be completely silent. You didn’t do well with silence at all. 

 It took all of four pages for Jack Pendleton to surprise you again. His writing style was gorgeous and smooth, and you cold tell that he meant every word that was printed on the pages. His diction was brilliant, his descriptions even better. He didn’t give too much or too little, and you were already falling in love with it. 

  The main character, Elijah, was likeable but flawed. Within the first thirty pages, you could already sense that he was gaining feelings that he didn’t even know about for his best friend, Will, who wasn’t named until about forty pages at Elijah’ first physical therapy appointment. Will hadn’t even shown up yet. 

You had blown through nearly half the book when you realized that it was eleven at night, and that you had work the next morning. You swore to yourself and put a smaller piece of paper in your book this time, looking at it longingly and patting it on the spine before leaving it on the small coffee table. 

§§§

Work was horrible. It was boring, and you spent the whole first part of your day with a man who was mad at you specifically because you ran out of a special type of shoe that he needed to wear the next day. The store that you worked at wasn’t even really a shoe store. Then, he asked to see the manager. You were the shift manager. He got so pissed that he threw a hanger at you and stormed out, and all you could do was laugh. 

 You were so tired of retail, it wasn’t even funny. 

 You were a little more than a hundred and twenty pages in when there was a knock on your door, and it came right as you were about t flip the page. You resisted the urge to scream, completely and utterly fed up with the public for the day. There was no use in trying to ignore the knocking that already yanked your mind out of the fictional world, and so you left the book on your couch, sticking a piece of paper in it quickly to save your page. 

You swung the door open, expecting to find someone who wanted you to fill out a survey or maybe even someone from maintenance making sure that everything was okay with your apartment. You certainly didn’t expect to see your beautiful neighbor with a pie in his gloved hands and a pink flush on his face. 

  He spoke first. “Hi, I live across the floor,” he pointed towards the door that you knew he lived behind. “I was just coming to bring you a welcoming gift.”  

  You were stunned. The man who stared you down and didn’t even say a word to you was at your door with what looked like a homemade pie, and wow, was that a turn of events. It was something straight out of that cheesy romance section that you were in at the bookstore. “Wow, thank you. You made that?”

  The pink on his cheeks graduated to scarlet. “I-yeah, I did.” 

You couldn’t contain the grin that stretched onto your face. “That’s really kind of you, thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.” You gently took it from his hands and smiled up at him. 

  “It’s also an apology, for staring at you like that when you were leaving.” You noticed his subtle accent and fought the urge to swoon. He was so adorably shy. “No one’s lived in this one for years, and I didn’t notice you moving in. Kinda scared me.” 

 “You didn’t see the moving truck?” You asked teasingly.

You saw the small grimace on his face, and your smile faltered. “I don’t really go outside much,” he said vaguely, and you felt that you hit a nerve. 

  You shrugged with the pie still in your hands, lips turning upwards at him. “It’s okay, I don’t, either.” 

  You were both smiling now. 

“Well, um,” he started to say, and you nodded your head at him, already knowing that he was about to go. “I have to finish something. I’ll see you later?” 

 “There’s a pretty good chance that you will,” you said, and he gave an awkward wave before turning around and walking away, right into his apartment without another look back. You cursed softly when he shut his door, and you looked down at the pie. 

You didn’t even get his name.

§§§

You realized after five days of nothing (and cleaning out the pan of delicious pie by yourself) that you weren’t going to see your neighbor by chance. You hoped that you would, more than you hoped for anything else before. But he was right. He didn’t go outside much. The doors in the building were all so loud that it was nearly impossible not to hear them opening or shutting, and you never heard his once. 

You had to do it yourself. Somehow, you needed to figure out how to see him again without it being incredibly weird, but you had a plan. In your eyes, it was pretty foolproof. Your mom’s chicken parmesan could never go wrong, and everyone liked to eat. You went to the grocery store without even having to roll the Decision Dice and got started on it the second you got home.

***

When it was done, there was a thin line of sweat on your forehead. You put a note to yourself in your head that the kitchen got insanely hot when you cooked, and you vowed to remember it next time. You took off your fancy apron and the chef’s hat that you wore for fun when you cooked and set it on the countertop. Now, the hard part came.

How were you supposed to get brave enough to bring a plate over to his place? Were you supposed to hope that he hadn’t eaten yet? Or, were you supposed to let him in to eat? Shit, that sounded too much like a date.

With all those thoughts in mind, you walked up to his door, C6, and knocked on it. You realized last minute that you forgot the plate on the table, so dinner was over at your apartment by default unless you did an awkward dash across the hall. The sound of boots coming towards the door were loud and clear, and then the door opened, barely giving you enough time to swallow your anxieties. You got a panging irrational fear that he wouldn’t remember you, but were relieved when he smiled down at you.

“Hi,” you said, sounding more like a telemarketer than a neighbor. “I made chicken parmesan.” It was silent for a few seconds as you both tried to make sense of what was happening, and you kicked yourself on the inside. “I made a plate for you because um, I wanted to thank you for the pie. It was really good.”

His face lit up, and it was like you were given a new burst of life and hope simultaneously. “Oh, thank you! That’s really sweet, thank you,” he repeated, his words getting slightly jumbled up the more and more he spoke. He was so cute. 

You realized that the both of you were just staring at each other, standing with smiles that were increasingly leaning towards more than polite by the second. “I can, uh, bring it to your door if you want.”

“I can come over, if that makes it easier.” Both sentences were spoken at the same time, and it caused you both to apologize once again at the same time. “No, no, I’ll come back with you,” he said when you two finally spoke your own sentences. 

You tilted your head. You were sure that he was shy, you could have bet money on him wanting to eat alone. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he gave you a small smile and stepped out of his apartment, and suddenly, you were aware of how he smelled like a bakery. Flower, sugar, apples, cinnamon, the whole nine. Your eyes widened when you smelled more of it when he shut his door. It smelled amazing. You didn’t want to be greedy, but whatever he had in there, you wanted a slice. 

   Your apartment smelled good, but in the opposite way. It smelled like sauce and spices and chicken, like a good kitchen. You almost laughed when you saw his eyes widen after he caught a whiff. His eyes scanned the table that was already set up for one, and he saw all the food in the middle and only grew more surprised. 

 “You did all of this yourself?” 

You didn’t think it was a big deal. You knew how to plate food and you knew how to cook it fine, but it wasn’t too special, in your opinion. It was second nature because of your mother, but you could always go for a nice compliment. “Yeah, I have fun cooking.”

  “It looks amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled at him. 

“Let’s hope it tastes as good.” 

It felt oddly domestic. You got his plate for him and watched him make his first because he was the guest, and you warned him about touching the hot pan, even though he didn’t seem worried about it with his gloves on. You asked him if he wanted wine, water, or soda, and he got his own glass of water after saying that he felt bad making you do it. By the time you sat down and started twirling your fork in your spaghetti, you were starving. 

 You heard him take his first bite more than you saw him do it. “Holy-” he put his hand in front of his mouth. “You made this here?” 

You laughed. “Mhm.” 

“Are you a chef, or something?”

You were flattered. “No, but my mother is,” and man, was she a cook. She could cook anything and make it taste good if you gave her a flame. Always, she had pressured you into knowing how to make a meal, because making a meal meant providing for yourself and everyone else in your family. You watched him cut into a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, smiling when he gave you the “food look”. “She taught me everything I know.” 

“Well, I’m about to call her and thank her,” he joked, and you giggled, twirling your own fork and getting some spaghetti in your mouth. You tilted your head. It was pretty good. 

  “And what about you? You can bake,” and there he was, all shy again, and you loved it. “Where did you learn?” 

“My father’s a baker,” he said, and a slow smile spread across your face. 

“Well, would you look at that,” you said, nodding your head in thought. He smiled back. 

 “Would you look at that.” 

For a second, just like the two of you had done many times before, you were stuck in a world where there wasn’t anything else, not even the food. It was just his smile and yours, and the fact that somehow both of you knew that the moment was genuine. 

  “I’m so sorry, what’s your name?” He blurted, and you frowned. 

“My name?” A flame of embarrassment and shame shot through you. You were fawning over a man that you didn’t even know the name of yet. You sister would be disgusted with you. “Oh, have we really not said our names yet?” 

 “I guess not...” he said, voice trailing off at the end. 

“Well, good thing names aren’t that important.” 

He gave you an intrigued look. “Names aren’t important?”

“They can be, but sometimes they don’t mean a thing. You can learn so much about someone before learning their name, and when you do, nothing changes what you already know. I cook and I like spending money in book stores, and you bake and stay inside. That doesn’t change after we learn names.” 

 He looked like he had just reached cloud nine. “You like books?”

“Of course I do,” you said, and your eyes trailed over to the book that was sitting on your couch. “I actually took that little name bit from what I learned from a book, so I won’t take credit for that.” 

  “What book was so in depth and interested with names?”

“I don’t even think that the main focus was the name, I think it was the opposite. His name didn’t matter because all that mattered were the emotions that came with him.” You took a second to think. “And I also think that saying his name made it real for the main character, so the dude’s name didn’t come up until he was in mid conversation.” 

  At first, you were worried that you lost him. But you hadn’t. “He was in love with this person?” 

“Madly. But he was his best friend.” You were so excited. You were really talking to a man who liked to read? And one who liked to analyze what he read? This must have been heaven. “For a while, all we hear about is how amazing the person is that he fell in love with and about how he struggled with loving him because he was a man. We knew everything about him before his name was even said and before he was even present, and that’s probably what I like most so far about the book.” 

   Through your rambling, you failed to notice that he was looking more and more panicked. “Um, what’s the book called?” 

   “Here, I’ll just go get it,” you said, standing up and walking over to your couch, pulling it off and walking over to him. You set the book down, and watched his eyes grow so wide that he looked cartoonish. “Have you read it?” 

  He blinked at the cover. “Y-yeah, I’ve read it.” He looked at his watch, swore so emptily that you swore it was acting, and then gave you an apologetic look. “Um, I have to go. I’m sorry.”

  So, you did scare him off. You hid your frown with a polite smile, and tried to remind yourself that even though it felt like one, it wasn’t a date. It was you paying him back for making you something in his own kitchen. “Oh, alright. I hope you liked it.” 

 Maybe he heard something in your voice that you didn’t, because he stopped frantically putting his jacket on to look you in the eyes. “It was amazing, I mean that. And it was very sweet, thank you.”

  This is crashing and burning. What the hell happened? It was going so well! “Well, I’ll see you later,” you called out, and you watched him wash his own plate with a shocked look on your face. “Thanks,” you whispered, and he nodded at you, a tight smile on his face as he wrapped a gloved hand around the doorknob and left. 

***

Maybe you hadn’t scared him away, after all. 

You had full intentions of leaving him alone until he came to you, if it was ever even going to happen. You only left for work and debated on finding something simple to bake for him to extend another olive branch, but then you decided that you would let the universe control what happened, if anything was even meant to happen in the first place. There was a knock on your door, and there he was, with a pan of cupcakes that had blue icing perfectly swirled on top. 

  Alright, so you hadn’t. 

He gave you the cutest smile, and you couldn’t help but to give one back. “Hi, I’m Bucky.” You gave him your name, too. 

From then on, you two were practically attached at the hip. If you weren’t at work, he was over with you, watching a movie and talking about foreshadowing or how good the book version would have been if it came first. He was also one of the only people you knew who had actually read Tarzan, and you got a kick out of it. You got so close that you even met his little quartet of friends, Steve, Natasha, and Sam, who all liked you after the first meeting. You fit in with them like a glove. 

 Speaking of... “Why do you wear gloves?” You had asked him one day, and he stiffened up like a board. 

“I get cold easily on my hands,” he explained coolly, and you let it go. 

There were little things about him that you questioned every time after he went back home. You questioned how he never left his apartment but made enough money to keep it. You asked yourself how he was so busy in there, and what exactly he did. You wondered why he got so funny when you mentioned the book, and how nervous he was to talk about it when you finally finished it. All of those things slightly worried you, but they had nothing on the one, huge thought that loomed over all the others. 

 You were falling hard and fast for Bucky Barnes. A part of you could admit that you were already on the ground. 

  If started off slowly. You admired his mind and his smile and the way that his eyes shined when he taught you how to bake a perfect cake without all the fancy, expensive supplies. You loved the way that his cheeks glowed when you complimented him or touched his hair or his nose. You loved that he started calling you “darling” and the way that his Brooklyn accent left out the last letter. You loved the way that things with him already felt so natural, like you cooking dinner and him helping you wash and dry dishes after. You were in for the long haul before you could even reach for the door handle of the speeding car, and you didn’t really want to. 

   There was a knock on your door out of courtesy, and you called out for him to let himself in. You were way past knocking, but he was polite. You were tapping away at the keys on your laptop, humming to yourself as you looked into Jack Pendleton. 

  “Watcha doin’, darlin’?” He set down the items you two needed for homemade lasagna and his father’s recipe for some simple pumpkin bread on the counter. 

“I’m trying to find more books by Jack Pendleton,” you muttered, sighing when nothing else came up. “I can’t find anything.”

 “Why do you like that book so much, anyway?” You were far too into your laptop to hear the tremor in his voice. 

 “Because it was raw, and real, and it hurt my feelings.” 

Oh, and it had. Bucky witnessed the result of you finishing the book first hand. He walked in right as you got the first sob out and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor, but he came to you anyway. How were you supposed to know that the therapist, an equally important person in the main character’s life, was going to pass away not even days after he and Will got their happiness? 

  You remembered how he held you the whole time, and that for some reason, he whispered a very heartfelt, “I’m sorry.” 

  “If it hurt you so much, why would you want to read something by him again?” 

“It was brilliant, that’s why, cowboy.” You said, looking up and pointing at him with your fancy little stylus. He broke out into a smile at the name, like he always did. You called him that one time because you caught him watching The Longest Ride, and it stuck. 

  There was a stretched, tense moment as the sound of your typing filled the room. “I don’t think he has anything else out right now, darlin’.” 

“And how would you know, rancher?” 

He gave you that same deer in headlights stare that he gave you when he first saw you in the hall, only less confused. Then he sighed. “What’s in a name, anyway?” 

 You rolled your eyes, but you both knew that you were on the edge of laughing. You could never be serious with him. He was just so full of light. “You’re not going to get me quoting Shakespeare right now, I just asked you a dire question.” 

 He inhaled deeply, his face already boasting a rich scarlet. “How would you feel if I told you that I wrote that book?”

  Your world crumbled beneath your feet. You knew he wasn’t lying, because you knew that he had no reason to lie. His aversion to talking about Jack Pendleton and everything surrounding it made you believe what he told you right as you heard it. You gasped, and then saw him grimace. “Bucky, Jack stole your work?” 

  His face fell. “What?”

“Have you taken legal action yet?” 

  “No,” he said slowly, and then he took in another deep breath, preparing from something. “I don’t need to, because I am Jack.” He said slowly, a small and guarded smile resting on his face. You noticed that he looked the least comfortable you had ever seen him. “It’s a pen name.” 

  Different kinds of humiliation were coming in large, mean waves, and you bit your lip to prevent from talking. You had really gushed over a book right in front of the author the whole time? It was so horrible and embarrassing that you couldn’t even stop thinking about it. You felt like an idiot. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop talking?” 

There was a quick, hesitant intake of breath between the both of you. “Because I don’t want anyone that I know in real life to know about that.” 

You froze. There was no way that he was implying that what was in the book actually happened, right? 

 He took off both of his gloves, and beneath one of them was a silver appendage, very clearly a prosthetic. He was breathing heavily, like he had just lifted a weight off of his chest that was double his own size. You looked at it with a wild expression of your own, trying to make sense of what was happening. 

 “Almost everything in that book really happened.” You closed your mouth. “Some things are exaggerated, but nearly everything happened. Elijah is based off of me.” 

  Oh, fuck. That meant that he was actually bisexual, that he actually fell in love with his best friend, that he actually got his arm amputated after getting a grenade launched at him. His therapist actually died. You had no idea what to say. “I’m so sorry.” 

 “The main thing that didn’t really happen was the semi-happy ending for Elijah and Will. He and I broke up years ago. This all happened years ago.” Your heart broke again for him. “I put it under a fake name because it’s something very personal to me, but I felt like it should have been shared. Thought that it would maybe help some other kid who was going through it.” 

You knew exactly what it was. You had gone through it yourself. If you had read the book when you were much younger, you were sure that you would have been able to find some sort of peace in the turmoil that you caused yourself. Now, you were much better, and you loved the fact that you were part of the LGBT community, but that didn’t mean that the book didn’t mean something to you. 

The book was so raw that you should have known that it was real. There wasn’t a word that didn’t mean something, not a sentence that wasn’t thought out. It was such heavy material with realistic ups and down that you caught yourself relating with Elijah, not knowing that the real “Elijah” was right in front of you the whole time.

“But, um, I write science fiction under my real name, though.” You were too busy thinking about how you gushed about someone’s actual life story, and how that someone just so happened to be your super cute neighbor that you fell in love with. You gushed about his terribly sad life story right in front of him. “That’s why I’m always inside. I’m a hermit writer.” 

You didn’t even get into the science fiction aspect of the conversation. “I would have never read it in front of you or talked about it in front of you if I knew that, I swear.” 

“I know.” He slowly took his jacket off, and then you were seeing his arms in all their glory. It truly was a beautiful prosthetic, and from how much he used his hands, you knew that it was reliable and practical. “I just needed to tell you that.” 

You could sense his unease, and it made you feel wrong. It felt like you were taking steps back. “If this is about you being bisexual, I don’t care about that. That would never bother me.” 

 For the first time since his confession, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. “I know. And I know you are, too.”

“Really?”

“I’ve seen the bookshelf in your room. No straight person reads that many books written by and for the community. And you cuff some of your jeans.” You shrugged, a small smirk on your face. He got you there. “I need to tell you something else.” 

You didn’t know if you were ready for it, but if he was, then there was no way that you were going to stop him. “Of course, go ahead.” 

“First, I should start off with telling you again that all of that,” he pointed towards her computer, “was about eleven years ago. I’m not healing, not recovering, none of that. Yeah, I’m sad about my therapist every once in a while, but I don’t feel anything for the man that Will is based off of anymore. That’s all gone.”

You swore at yourself for feeling butterflies of hope. You squashed them all down and made yourself pay full attention to Bucky, even though your mind was starting to have stupid little fantasies about picnic and stargazing with him. This is what you got for reading romance novels. “Okay, Buck.”

“I’m telling you all of this because I’m pretty sure that I’m in love with you.” Your mouth hung open, and before you could even get a word out, he was all over it again. “I have been for a while now, and I think now is the best time to tell you.” There was a pause for you to cut in, but you couldn’t form a word. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way or if you’re weirded out by my story-” 

“I love you too.” You blurted, watching his face become shocked. “I’ve been dying to tell you that, you know?” 

He sputtered, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “Now I know.” 

You felt a smile slide onto your face as both of your racing hearts stilled to a normal, content rate. In that moment, you swore that if someone came and checked, that your heartbeats were alternating, taking energy from each other to make one long beat. You just, clicked.

“It- none of that bothers you at all?”

“If anything, I feel bad. I feel like I intruded.”

He scoffed. “You didn’t intrude, Y/N, I’m the one who published it.”

“I’m going to hug you now,” you warned, and then you two met each other half way. Your face was in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. You smiled when you felt him gently brush your forehead with his lips, and all felt right.

You stood there together for what felt like forever but two seconds all the same, swaying a bit subconsciously. “Are you- are you sure about being okay with all of this? I know it’s a lot. And I just kind of sprung it on you.”

There he was. The shy Bucky. You knew that he could be insecure, and you knew that he was insecure about being that way. But luckily, you felt for him so much that you could assure him for the rest of both of your days with no complaints. If it took a thousand times a day for Bucky Barnes to know that you loved him and Jack Pendleton and Elijah Harris, you would do it two thousand times.

 “Out of all the books in the store, I unknowingly chose yours.” Your voice was shaky, but you meant every word you said and were about to say. “And out of all the people in the world, I intentionally, without doubt choose you.” 

***

If someone had asked you three years ago where you thought you were going to be in life in the same amount of time, you would have told them that you were probably still going to be working in retail. That wasn’t the case at all.

  Your mother gave you a loan when Bucky persuaded you to take your talent and passion for cooking and turn it into a business. You had a medium sized restaurant that you let your mother in on, and you cooked side by side often times. It felt just like it did when you were back in the kitchen of your childhood home, but now you were getting paid for it, quite a bit. 

  Across the street from your restaurant was a bookstore that held a number of books that were written by Bucky yourself, but your favorite by far was the cook book that was technically a baking book, full of all of the recipes that he felt like giving away. 

  You didn’t expect any of that to happen within three years, at all. But what you hoped to happen most of all did, and it was proven by the simple diamond on your finger that Bucky had given you. You wanted him to think that you were surprised when he popped the question, but you weren’t. 

  After all, you could see the outline of the box that he carried for three weeks straight. 

[thebiscuiteternal]

If your still doing the writing jam maybe something about the verse where jc adopts a bunch of magical pets?

You're in luck, I have three pets left to go in this series. Or, three and a half, really. You'll see why here in a sec.

Series on Ao3

__________

Wei Wuxian had better things to do than get in a staring contest with a cat.

He really did.

Even if he couldn't think of any at the moment, currently too busy being hypnotized by deep molten fire-orange eyes staring out of a giant mass of ash-grey fluff that would have been better suited chasing mice in the Unclean Realms than wandering the docks of Lotus Pier.

"Mrowr."

"You need to work on your trash talk," Wei Wuxian teased with a grin, leaning forward to rest his chin on his fists. "I've heard worse from Chengcheng on a good day."

"Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian waved to his approaching husband without breaking eye contact. "Oh, hey, Lan Zhan. How was the meet- ack!"

It was a good thing Lan Zhan was in arm's length, as he was able keep Wei Wuxian from landing on the ground in an undignified heap when the cat suddenly erupted into a hissing, spitting ball of very-much-real fire before leaping off the fence and bolting down an alleyway, still wreathed in flames.

"What.. the fuck?" Wei Wuxian wheezed, staring at the scorch mark where the cat had been just a moment ago.

"Another of Jiang Wanyin's cursed beasts to avoid, apparently," Lan Wangji murmured as he gently set Wei Wuxian back on his feet, the disdain thick in his voice.

---

The feeling was apparently mutual.

While the cat didn't seem to mind Wei Wuxian much, and had even permitted a few scratches under the chin, his husband's presence was another story entirely. Whether it reacted simply with a growl, smoke trailing from its mouth, or another full-blown explosion of fire, the cat wanted absolutely nothing to do with Lan Zhan.

Which they would have been able to deal with, except the cat seemed to be everywhere.

By the time night fell, they'd already had twelve run-ins with the animal, and Wei Wuxian sighed in relief when they entered their assigned guest room to find it mercifully cat-free.

"I think tomorrow I'm going to ask Jiang Cheng to give that thing its own bell," he said as he flopped onto the bed. "At least then we'll know where it is so we can stay away from it."

Lan Zhan said nothing, but the look on his face as he dusted ash from his robes was reply enough.

Wei Wuxian closed his eyes and snuggled into his pillow-

-then snapped back fully awake at an all-too-familiar hiss from somewhere in the room.

"Oh, shi-"

---

Wei Wuxian stood frozen, his mouth hanging open at the sight before him.

"You're going to catch flies, Wei-xiong," Nie Huaisang said with a knowing smirk as he petted the cat in his lap.

And the one draped over his shoulders like a fur ruff.

"Since when were there two of them?" Wei Wuxian asked in a scandalized tone when he'd finally managed to start forming words again.

"Since always?" Ouyang Zizhen asked, scooping up the cat that had been lounging around Nie Huaisang's neck and holding it up. "This one's Chouyan. That one's Yujin."

Wei Wuxian pinched the bridge of his nose, once again fondly appalled by his shidi's pet naming habits. "Okay... fine... Do they both burn?"

"Only Yujin," Nie Huaisang said, still annoyingly amused by the whole situation. "Chouyan quite literally just blows smoke."

Before Wei Wuxian could call out the terrible joke for being terrible, Yujin turned his head towards the door and hissed.

Deciding he very much did not need another demonstration of what the cats-now-plural could and couldn't do, Wei Wuxian quickly went to intercept his husband.

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: Bang Babies got nothin’ on the Ghost Kid

More deadfic for @goodintentionswipfest! There was a post circulating on here once upon a time riffing on how OP Danny is compared to regular superheroes, so here’s about 4k of a Static Shock/Danny Phantom crossover that didn’t end up going anywhere.

=

The first time they see him, he’s just a black and white streak that nearly knocks them both out of the sky.

“Who—what was that?” Static gapes once he’s regained his balance. Green data splashes across Gear’s visor, obscuring his own incredulous expression.

“No idea, but they just clocked 154 miles per hour.”

“Well the speed limit here is only 45. Wanna pull ‘em over?”

Gear snorts. “If we can catch ‘em, sure.”

But whoever or whatever it was is long gone. After a week with no other sightings of ‘Flash Noir’ as they call the stranger, they let it go. Whatever it is will turn up, or it won’t. So long as no one’s getting hurt by it, it’s not really their problem, right?

=

The second time they see him is a week after that, and he’s hovering over the school roof just… watching. Other people see him too, and they all point and stare at the figure all in stark black and white, a teenage boy from the waist up and a ribbon of black from the waist down. 

Virgil and Richie share a mutual look of relief. They’d started to think they’d imagined him, never mind what Backpack had recorded. But when they look up at the roof again the kid is gone.

=

The third time they see him, he’s just a black speck barely glimpsed in the streaky post-rain evening sky. They only realize it’s him—and that he’s there at all—because Backpack catches him on the edge of its radar. He’s too high up, way too high up. The air’s just too thin for normal people—or normal bang babies, for what that’s worth. They try to get as close as they can anyway, but he blinks out of existence long before they can make out any details.

=

The fourth time they see him, he’s got a minivan and a corolla balanced in each hand like gravity’s got better things to do than pay him any mind. He’s holding them by the bumpers. Gear promptly loses his mind trying to figure out the physics behind such a feat, so it’s only Static that sees the guy toss a grin their way as he sets the two vehicles down on a stretch of road aways away from the car accident he’d apparently saved them from joining.

The strange kid waves at the families he’d saved, then takes off before Static and Gear can get near him. Backpack helpfully informs Gear that this mysterious guy encroaching on their hero turf clocked 60 miles in two seconds flat.

=

The fifth time they see him, he’s waiting for them in the junkyard looking infuriatingly smug. Static and Gear gape, then jump for him. It’s been starting to feel like chasing a mirage, but this time the guy stays put.

“Relax,” he tells them with a laugh and a lazy grin. “I’m not a bad guy.”

This close they can see he’s not any older than they are. He’d look like any normal kid, except for the glowing green eyes and shock of white hair fluttering in a breeze that isn’t there. 

“Then why are you stalkin’ us?” Static challenges.

“I wouldn’t say ‘stalk,’” the guy replies, defensive. “I’ve just never seen any other superheroes before. I was curious, that’s all.”

“I guess you don’t watch the news much,” Gear says, unimpressed. “You can go a day without hearing about a super making headlines somewhere.”

The kid’s grin turns uneasy. “I’m, uh, not actually from around here. Superheroes are a bit thin on the ground, where I’m from.”

“And where’s that, the North Pole?” Static asks.

The kid rolls his eyes. “Through an interdimensional rift in space four blocks from here. Hang a right past the Lovecraft reference and straight on ‘til morning.”

Static and Gear share an exasperated look.

“Look, kid,” Gear begins heatedly, only to be cut off.

“Oh no, no fair. You guys look like you’re still in high school too, so cut it out with the ‘kid’ stuff. The name is Phantom.”

Gear huffs. “Fine, Phantom. Point is we appreciate the help. You’re doing good work. But the superhero thing’s dangerous. You can’t just, y’know, jump into it.”

As if the two of them hadn’t done just that. But, y’know. It felt right to warn the guy, at least.

“It’s not a matter of ‘if’ you’ll get hurt if you stick with it,” Static adds. “And, okay, you might be new in town, so maybe you don’t know, but the two of us have got Dakota covered just fine.”

Phantom rolls his eyes, bouncing into the air. Gravity really doesn’t pay him any mind at all. How does he fly? Telekinesis? He does it like he’s so used to it the switch from standing to hovering is as natural as breathing. “Trust me, this city’s a walk in the park compared to what I deal with. Forgive me for seeing a chance to lend a hand to a couple of kids who clearly needed the help.”

“Now wait a minute—”

He drifts higher. “Oh, and by the way, there’s a guy calling himself Hotstreak waiting for you on ice by the community center. You’re welcome.”

“Wait—!”

But he blinks out of sight just like his name would suggest he could. There’s a pause as they both stare stupidly at thin air, then Gear swears. “‘On ice?’ Don’t tell me he’s got ice powers too.”

Phantom does, in fact, have ice powers too. Talk about overkill.

=

The sixth time Phantom makes an appearance, Virgil Hawkins is eating dinner with his dad and sister. He happens to glance out the window only to see a pair of neon green eyes staring back at him. Virgil drops his glass, yelping when milk splashes his mostly empty plate and spills into his lap.

“What’s the matter with you?” His sister asks.

“Uh. I—nothing! Nothing at all! I just—remembered that I, uh. Book report! I left my book report at Richie’s and I need to go get it!”

“Can’t it wait until school tomorrow?” His dad asks.

“No—no, it can’t, because I, uh, I still need to type it up and—and it’s due first period!” 

He runs out of the kitchen and out the front door before either of them can yell at him to clean up the mess he’d made. He stands on the stoop, panting and trying not to panic, and Phantom swoops into view upside down with that smug grin on his face again.

“Well hey there, sparky,” he says.

Virgil thinks he maybe has a heart attack, a little bit, before he finds the strength to speak. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!” He yells in a furious stage whisper, grabbing the kid out of the air to drag him closer. “The first rule of superheroes is minding the secret identity thing, especially around family, and you just blew that right out of the water!”

Virgil’s hand goes briefly numb and Phantom slips out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t say ‘just,’” he replies, looking guilty.

Virgil’s gonna strangle him, he really is. “How long have you known who I am?”

“Wwwwwell, a couple weeks back I saw local heroes Static and Gear walk into an abandoned gas station and two normal teenagers walk out. I don’t know your real names and I didn’t know you lived here, I swear. I was just flying by and recognized your hair out of the corner of my eye. I swear,” he repeats hastily at Virgil’s murderous expression.

Virgil counts to five, then back down again, and is still just as pissed. “Fine. Okay. C’mon.”

He starts walking towards Richie’s house, because no way is he doing this on his own. Behind him Phantom asks, “Uh, where are you going?”

“We are going to R—Gear’s place. The three of us are gonna sort this out, and don’t you even think of pulling another one of your disappearing acts to get out of it!”

Phantom scoffs. “Oh yeah, because I’m so inconspicuous otherwise. Here, hold still.” He grabs Virgil’s shoulder and a chill washes over him. He startles, trying to pull away, but Phantom may as well have steel rebar for bones. Virgil looks down and yelps even louder than when he’d spilled milk all over himself; the ground has fallen away without even a rusty, trusty trash can lid underfoot. And speaking of feet, where are his feet?

“Augh, what? Whoa, no, let me go!”

“Quit squirming.”

Oh, no. He’s not getting the evil grunt orders fifty feet in the air. He grabs the hand he can’t see and sends a warning bolt. Phantom grunts, twitching. 

“Augh, easy sparky! Which way is Gear’s house?”

“How is this less inconspicuous you maniac? Put me down—and don’t drop me!”

“Oh, for—you’re invisible right now.” He looks up and there’s nobody above him, but he can hear Phantom all the same. “I pulled a disappearing act and brought you along. Seriously, man, I know I’ve been goofing off and setting you on edge, but I really didn’t mean to spy. You wanna talk to Gear about the blown cover thing—I really don’t know your names still, by the way—and I wanna come to an agreement.”

Virgil sighs. These bang babies all gotta stop being so crazy. But hey, at least this one doesn’t seem like he’s about to rob any banks. “Hang a right at this light.”

=

It is officially too weird to watch your own body reappear before your own eyes. Virgil shudders.

“First time with invisibility?” Phantom waggles his eyebrows. “How do you feel?”

“...Tingly. Warn me before you do that again, alright?”

“You just gave me blanket permission to do it again basically whenever, you realize that, right?” 

“Wh—I did not!”

Phantom rolls his eyes and phases through the roof. Seriously, there’s got to be a limit to how many spooky ooky poltergeist powers a guy can have, right? A moment later Virgil hears Richie yowling, and Phantom reappears with Richie in tow. He sets Richie down, gentle as you please, then promptly explodes.

Virgil recoils, blinking white light out of his vision. When he can see clearly again, Phantom is gone and there’s a regular teenager standing in his place, black-haired and fresh out of glowing green eyes. One forearm is bandaged from wrist to elbow.

“Wh-what?” Richie asks for the both of them.

The kid smiles, waving his uninjured hand. “Danny Fenton. It’s nice to see you without the visor.”

=

Turns out, Danny wasn’t kidding about being from a different dimension. He shows them the door he pops in and out of and everything. It’s an emergency exit of an old theater downtown, perfectly normal to Virgil’s eyes. Richie opens it. Rusty hinges squeal and Virgil can glimpse the vague suggestion of chairs in the dark.

“It only works if you’re focusing on the Ghost Zone,” Danny says.

“The what now?”

Richie shakes his head. “Oh no, no way. Please don’t tell me I’m talking to a dead guy.”

Danny laughs. “Nah, I’m basically as normal as either of you when I’m like this.”

Considering Virgil can do exactly as much damage as he can wearing his superhero gear, that’s not exactly comforting.

Danny nudges Richie aside, shuts the door and opens it up again. Just like that the theater’s interior is gone. There’s a hole in the world instead, bleeding radioactive green into the alleyway. There are hundreds—no, thousands—of violet doors floating in a green void that twists in dizzying shapes before his eyes. There’s no ground, no sky, it goes on forever in all directions.

“That—” Richie swallows. “That’s where you’re from?”

Danny shuts the door. Virgil tries to ignore the relief that makes jelly out of his knees, but dang, that really needed a better warning. “No, of course not. I’m from Earth, same as you. Just a, well, a slightly different one, I guess. A parallel one. That place is where ghosts come from. I only ended up here by mistake.”

“Take a left at the Lovecraft reference?” Virgil asks, rubbing his eyes. 

“Ha, pretty much. I was trying to escape the Lovecraft reference. That’s, uh, not what it’s name probably is? My friend Sam called it that and I can’t understand it, so, that’s kind of stuck. It’s got enough teeth to deserve being called ‘Lovecraft reference,’ anyway.”

“Sam?” Richie asks. “Is that someone else, uh, on your team?”

“It’s not really a team. She doesn’t have super powers or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s right, you said superheroes are thin on the ground where you’re from,” Virgil says. “So I guess it’s just you dealing with the big and toothy?” 

“Basically, yeah. Not a lot of opportunity to do what I did to get my powers.”

“What’d you—”

Danny holds up both hands. “Nope, nuh-uh. You’ve got your secrets, I’ve got mine.”

=

The seventh time they see Phantom, they finally see him in proper action. Ebon’s gang has struck a bank—Virgil’s big mouth and bad luck strikes a home run, as usual—and by the time Static and Gear arrive on the scene they’ve stolen a truck and are two blocks from the bank. Talon is flying overhead, keeping an eye out for cops or goody-good superheroes, while the rest of the gang’s inside.

They don’t stop to see who’s hurt. They’d passed an ambulance on the way, and it’s not like either of them are good for more than getting the injured to emergency care. They take chase, and the armored truck doesn’t make it another block before Gear’s knocked Talon out of the sky and Static has netted the truck in a web of electricity. It’s heavy though, too heavy for him to do more than keep its tires squealing in place and hoping Gear can gimmick up something to slow it down a little more. Ebon’s smart though. He’s not gonna pick a fight here, and Static will burn himself out long before the tires do.

“Gear!” He yells desperately.

“Working on it!”

But it’s Phantom that swoops in from nowhere, soaring down in front of the truck. He, impossibly, lifts the wheels off the street one-handed. It’s enough help to let Static focus his attention on popping the wheels off before releasing his net. He sinks to his knees, disc wobbling dangerously beneath him, catching his breath.

“I—hate—armored trucks,” he wheezes.

“Static!” Phantom calls out, startled, which means breaktime is over. He stretches his hand out and ties Shiv up with a nearby stop sign before he gets to his feet again. Phantom’s rushed off to help Gear with Talon who’s back in the air, which just leaves Ebon to Static.

Ebon slides out of the truck, an inky, glowering smear. “Who’s the new guy?”

“Friend from out of town. Why, you feelin’ like we’re not bondin’ like we used to?”

Ebon doesn’t reply, just slaps Static away. The air gets knocked out of him and he lands in a sprawl halfway down the street. Before he can recover he hears Talon scream. He slams his hands to his ears reflexively, but luckily she wasn’t aiming at him. Not so luckily, Gear and Phantom hit asphalt a few yards away.

“You okay?” Static calls out.

“I hate when she does that,” Gear complains too loudly, shaking his head like a dog and looking nauseous. Yeah, Static hates it too. He’d take getting slapped around by Ebon over having his hearing scrambled any day. 

Phantom springs up quicker than either of them, grinning madly. “She wants a screaming match, huh?” 

Gear looks as aggrieved as Static feels. “Do not tell me you can do that too.”

Phantom’s grin widens, eyes blazing, as Talon rejoins Ebon and Shiv at the armored truck. Shiv must’ve cut himself free of the stop sign at some point. Static makes a mental note to use two stop signs next time. The three of them are hauling bags out of the back, clearly planning on Ebon’s easy getaway trick to get at least some of the cash they’d stolen.

Static gets to his feet, zapping his disc underfoot again as he considers a half dozen strategies to take them out and not liking any of them. Ebon’s always been too slippery; it’s likely he’ll get away no matter what—

A hand claps down on his shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Phantom says.

“What are you—”

But there’s no time to finish asking what because Phantom takes a deep breath and wails. There’s waves of concentric neon green energy bursting from his mouth, radiating out and down to Ebon’s gang. The armored car, down two tires, goes shrieking and sparking down the street. Two parked cars follow after, their windows shattering, their frames buckling. Ebon, Talon, and Shiv don’t even have time to grab at their ears; they go down like bowling pins, and don’t get up again.

The click of Phantom’s teeth when he finally stops wailing seems awfully loud. Static feels like he just walked out of a concert he’d been too near the speakers at for; his ears are ringing, his hands and feet are tingling, and his chest hurts vaguely. He swallows, looks back at Gear who’s just shaking his head a little. He looks at Phantom; the kid’s got beads of green on his forehead and he’s breathing hard.

“Sorry,” his voice cracks a little, “That one’s kinda hard to put a lid on.”

=

After sorting out things with the police—which Phantom vanished for, literally—they invite him back to the gas station for what is, in essence, dinner and an interrogation. Richie declares he’s had enough surprises and Virgil agrees. So they stop to grab a couple of pizzas and manhandle Danny to the gas station. Danny lets himself be manhandled with no shortage of eye rolling.

“Sit,” Richie orders, shoving a paper plate laden with three slices of pepperoni into Danny’s hands. “Explain.”

Danny sits obediently, raising his eyebrows like he’s trying not to grin. “Uh, explain what?”

“You! Your ridiculous collection of powers, where you come from, why you’re not strutting around your weird parallel Earth or whatever as Grand High Emperor of—of everything!”

Danny can’t help the grin. Virgil’s hiding one behind a can of soda too though, so he can’t judge. “Grand High—what? Do you have one of those here?”

“Danny.”

“C’mon. We agreed on no details, didn’t we? This wouldn’t even be a conversation we’d have if you were the ones coming to my city.”

“We agreed to that when it seemed like you were just another souped up Bang Baby,” Virgil cuts in, “but this is getting ridiculous. I’m not sure I like the idea of Superman’s ghost charging through Dakota any time he feels like it, especially since supers tend to bring their problems along with ‘em.”

“If you want me gone, I’ll leave. I was just trying to give you guys a hand when things were slow in Am—my city.”

“We never asked your overpowered butt for help in the first place!” Richie snaps.

Danny opens his mouth to snap something back but his phone goes off instead. He glares at them both as he pulls it out of his jeans pocket, flipping it open. His eyes widen at whatever the text reads, he fires off a quick reply, then drops his uneaten pizza on the table. “Look, here I am, going. All right?”

“Trouble in paradise?” Virgil quips.

Danny ignores it, but stops halfway to the door to look back over his shoulder. His eyes are bright green, which Virgil’s learning means more trouble than it’s worth. “You know what? How about you come visit Amity Park with me?”

=

The Ghost Zone is just as dizzying as Static thought it would be, and in no time at all he’s hopelessly lost and he has a monster of a headache. It’s like he’d put his face right up against a neon sign no matter where he looks; just bright green smears and the odd clutter of purple doors. “Man, you sure you’re not lost?”

Phantom throws a grin over his shoulder. “Relax, I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“Is it even safe for, uh, regular people to be here?” Richie asks nervously. “I’m getting some bizarre readings here that Backpack can’t make heads or tails of. I feel like I should have nabbed a HAZMAT suit too.”

“My parents and friends have been in and out of the Ghost Zone dozens of times, and they’re totally fine.”

“Radiation poisoning can take decades to affect people,” Gear points out.

“Eh, so maybe they’ll glow in the dark or something twenty years from now. Ectology is kind of in its infancy. Anyway, we’re here.”

There’s a circular hole of swirling green, lighter than the fog around them and suspended in a solid looking riveted steel frame. Phantom holds up one hand to stop them, sticking his head through. “We’re good,” he says when he’s popped back out. “C’mon.”

Gear and Static share one last nervous look before following after.

They find themselves in some kind of high-tech basement done all out in sleek chrome, like a mad scientist’s lab out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There are beakers and flasks bubbling with syrupy neon green stuff, barrels with CAUTION stamped on the sides, and the kind of tables that wouldn’t look out of place in a flashy investigation show morgue. Static breaks out in goosebumps and can’t even pretend to play it off on it being a little chilly in here. 

“My parents built the Ghost Portal,” Phantom says, pointing back at the circle of green light still swirling behind them. “But I’m the one who made it work.”

Seeing the Portal on this side makes Gear’s breath hitch, and Static breathes out a stunned, “Whoa.” It’s an octagon framed by fat black and yellow caution stripes, easily fifteen feet in diameter. The Portal itself is identical to how it appeared on the Ghost Zone’s side, a constant dizzying swirl of toxic greens staining the enormous lab like some kind of mutant aquarium.

“Is this thing open all the time?” Gear stutters. “How is your family not dead? Heck, the whole city? This thing’s pouring out energy on a—I need to invent a new scale to quantify these readings just so I can make sense of them!”

Phantom laughs, grabbing a chrome cylinder glittering with green designs. “Don’t worry about it, seriously. My mom would know if it was, like, properly dangerous. Now c’mon, I want you to meet a regular of mine.”

=

Two more teenagers are waiting for them outside an evacuated post office. The girl, white with a distinctly Goth taste in clothes, gives Phantom a look that plainly states she thinks he’s nuts. “You didn’t mention you’d be bringing them through,” she says flatly.

The guy, black with thick-rimmed glasses and dressed like he can’t decide if he’s going for ‘frequents Starbucks’ or ‘military surplus’, rolls his eyes and waves. “Hi, I’m Tucker. That’s Sam. Don’t mind her, she’s just pissed the Box Ghost got the jump on her.”

“The one time I leave the house without a Thermos,” she huffs, crossing her arms.

“Sorry about the wait.” Phantom says. “Guys, this is Static and Gear.”

“Charmed,” Static says automatically. Gear just grunts.

“Don’t need three guesses to guess who,” Tucker grins. “We can catch up later. You wanna do the honors, Danny?”

“Nah.” Phantom looks at Static and Gear, looking worryingly pleased. “I helped you out with the, what’s it, Ebon and Friends. Why don’t you take a crack at one of mine?”

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Part one of three for the Izuku vs Shouto match. Let’s get it done.

[No. 38 - Todoroki vs. Midoriya]

No cover page, just diving right into the chapter. Ochako rejoins the rest of the class in the stands, asking Tenya and Tokoyami whether the match has started yet, and that she has to see this. Tenya, meanwhile, is a bit more concerned about how swollen Ochako’s eyes and face look, fretting over whether she was blinded and that she should hurry up and go see Recovery Girl. Ochako assures him she already did, and that this is from… something else. Tenya remarks that she’s not having the best of days. Tokoyami tells her not to regret her loss, just learn from it and move on. Ochako agrees, then focused on the match, wondering how Izuku is gonna deal with the ice. 

Briefly, we slide over to where Shigaraki is watching on his computer. Sensei, through the microphone, tells him to observe and learn, because those two (Izuku and Shouto) may someday become obstacles in his path. Shigaraki calls it a load of crap. 

Shigaraki’s room is… huh. Can definitely see that one article with All Might, but the other stuff… other heroes? And hero figurines? Not to mention he just has. Bags of (presumably) trash in his room. Overall, I… don’t quite know what to say about it. 

We get one panel of Inko still crying over Izuku, the floor covered in a large mass of wadded tissues and empty boxes of tissues. Then we shift to the stadium, where the teachers are seated. Thirteen recognizes the two as the ones who tried to save Toshinori back at the USJ, which Toshinori confirms. He thinks back on those rescues, stating that he can’t put his finger on it, but the two are connected in some way.

(Interesting expression on Endeavor’s face as well. Wonder if Izuku got under his skin a bit?)

On the arena floor, Izuku and Shouto both analyse their opponents - Izuku knows Shouto’s going to come at him with his ice, while Shouto thinks of how risky it would be if he let Izuku fire off that power. Both conclude that as soon as the match starts, they attack - and so they do. 

Shouto throws ice forward, while Izuku pulls his middle finger back with his thumb and aims before flicking it, blasting away all the ice and sending a cold wave across the stadium. Shouto expected as much, thinking on how Izuku is determined to counter, even if it means destroying himself. 

Present Mic plays up how Izuku smashed through the ice. Toshinori notes how Izuku had no way of knowing how strong Shouto’s attack would be, so he didn’t stick with five percent - he used a full 100% blast! But it does make sense, with no other way to defend against that ice. Shouto sends out another wave, which Izuku smashes again. 

Izuku is definitely feeling the pain, but forcing himself to focus on the match instead of his broken fingers. From what he’s seen, Shouto’s fights always end in a flash, so he hasn’t learned much from watching them. He’ll have to learn while fighting; he’ll just observe and look for an opening… The ice behind Shouto is most like a counter strategy to keep from getting blown away. In that case, using a finger was the right choice, since he might even be able to handle a 100% arm sacrificing smash. Observe, calculate, find an opening! He’s got six shots left!

Shouto seems to realize just how stubborn Izuku plans on being, and grits his own teeth, once again sending ice at Izuku. A third finger is sacrificed to the cause. 

Kirishima finally rejoins the class in the stands, put out that the match already started. Kaminari congratulates him on getting to the second round. Kirishima thanks him, then notes that he’s up against Katsuki next. Katsuki states he’ll kill Kirishima, which Kirishima laughs off while saying he’d like to see him try. Kirishima then notes how Katsuki and Shouto can fire off as many of those crazy-strong attacks as they want. 

Katsuki tells Kirishima to not be an idiot, much to his confusion. Katsuki then goes on to explain: Strain your muscles, and you’ll tear them. Run too much, and you’ll be out of breath. Quirks are still physical abilities. Even Shouto has to have some kind of limit. Katsuki privately notes his own limits in how much power he can put out - that’s why he thought up those mods for his costume that let him fire off more explosions that he can usually handle.

Kirishima figures Katsuki is right, then guesses that against the instant-kill, Izuku is trying to stretch the match out. Abet, Shouto is technically the one finishing that train of thought, before stating that that won’t be happening, and that he’ll end this quickly. Izuku is forces to use the last finger on his right hand to deflect the next ice wave, while Shouto rushes forward to close the gap. 

Shouto runs up his wave of ice while Izuku switches to his left hand, only for Shouto to leap over the blast of air, right over Izuku’s head. He tries to slam down directly onto Izuku, but Izuku throws himself backwards just in time. Shouto lashes out with ice to try and capture Izuku from up close; Izuku’s foot is caught as he realizes Shouto’s too close. He lashes out, sending an even large blast of air that Shouto is forced to brace himself against. Shouto notes how they was a lot stronger than Izuku’s early attacks, and asks if Izuku is telling him to stay back. 

Izuku is… not looking in great shape. 

Izuku notes how Shouto is way more than just his quirk; he has excellent judgement, execution, mobility… everything about him is strong! Shouto comments on Izuku only defending and dodging, and that it’s taking a toll on him. However, Izuku’s noticed something interesting - Shouto is shivering. 

The crowds chatter about the match, noting how Shouto is already stronger than most pros, as expected of the son of the no. 2 hero. Shouto is ticked off at the commentary. He apologizes to Izuku for all this. He still appreciates it, though. Thanks to Izuku, Endeavor isn’t looking too happy with the match. Izuku flashes back to Shouto’s comment on denying Endeavor everything. Shouto continues speaking - with both hands destroyed, Izuku can’t fight anymore. So it’s time to end this. 

Present Mic comments on Shouto’s relentless assault continuing, wondering whether this next attack will win it all. However, Izuku is not done yet, flinging out another blast at Shouto to smash the ice.

Both Toshinori and Katsuki seem shocked at this development, while Shouto, who was not expecting it, is almost flung out of the ring before he can catch himself at the edge with his ice. Shouto realizes that he’s still using his broken fingers, and asks why Izuku is going that far. Izuku notes that Shouto is shivering. Quirks are still just physical abilities - there must be a limit to how much cold he can bear. But then, he could always use his left side to thaw himself out, right? 

Everyone is giving it their all - to win, to achieve their goals, to make it to the top. And Shouto is going to win with half his power? 

...I think that last line is supposed to be that ‘you haven’t put a scratch on me’, because phrased like this, it feels weird? Ah well.

Izuku demands Shouto give everything he’s got, and to come at him. Up in the stands, Endeavor thinks back to Izuku’s pointed comment about Shouto not being him, while Shouto wants to know what Izuku is planning.

And so ends the chapter. Man, I just. Can’t stop thinking about what the people in the stadium are hearing and thinking about all this. Because they clearly CAN hear what’s being said, but without all the context… sigh.

Anywho, see y’all Wednesday with part two of the match.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, alepaolvi!

Apologies for the delay on your birthday gift, @alepaolvi​! We hope you had a wonderful day on October 2, and got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @norbertsmom has written a story just for you!

Author’s Note: Happy belated birthday, @alepaolvi. Sorry for the delay. I hope you enjoy your arranged marriage fic with a jealous Gale. This is set in Panem au. The revolution happened a few years before it did in canon. You may notice several lines are taken directly from the book, and tweaked to fit this new timeline. Special thanks to my bestie, @mega-aulover for her help. Rated T.

A Different Kind of Reaping

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When I wake up, I reach out for Prim but find the other side of the bed is empty. Prim has her own bed now, but sometimes I forget we’re no longer in the Seam. I prop myself up on one elbow. There’s enough light in the room to see that she’s not in her bed. Of course not. She’s been so excited to help me get ready for today. I’m sure she and mother are up prepping my clothes and making breakfast.

The two of them are so alike, with their blond hair and blue eyes and perky attitude. At fourteen, Prim is fresh faced and as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother is still beautiful, if not a little weary in her grief at the loss of my father. Even seven years later, his absence is still felt, especially today.

I get out of bed and pull on trousers, a shirt, and tuck my long dark braid up under a cap. I slide my stocking feet into my leather hunting boots and grab my bow and sheath of arrows along with my foraging bag.

On the table is a feast fit for celebration: eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice. All luxury items just a few years ago, before the war. Now a gift to me on my reaping day.

Reaping day is so different now. Before the revolution, reaping day was the day all district children between the ages of twelve and eighteen had their names put into a drawing. In punishment for the failed first uprising, each of the twelve districts had to provide one boy and one girl, called tributes to participate in the Hunger Games. The twenty-four tributes would be imprisoned in a vast outdoor arena to fight to the death. The last standing tribute won.

“Sit down for breakfast, Katniss,” my mother says. “You’ll need your energy today.”

I set my hunting gear down and sit, loading up my plate and tuck into the meal. I want to go out into the woods one last time before the ceremony. Who knows if I’ll be able to go back out after today?

Prim plops down in the chair beside me. “Are you excited, Katniss?” she asks as she loads up her own plate.

“Um,” I hum around a mouthful of food because I really don’t know how I feel. “A little scared, I guess.”

When the revolution was won by the districts, the Hunger Games were abolished. But soon after it was discovered that the population was critically low, and at risk of extinction after all the loss during the war. The new senate that ruled the country with one representative from each district, came up with a plan to help repopulate the nation: arranged marriages.

They decided to reclaim the reaping day as a day to bring new families together. That first reaping day after the war, men and women eighteen and older were matched to form new families. I wasn’t old enough then, but I am now. I don’t know how I feel about having my future decided for me.

I think back on all of the questionnaires we had to complete in our last month of school. We also had to list the names of those we would be happy to be matched with. We weren’t allowed to leave it blank, so I wrote down the one name I secretly wish for, but I’m sure I won’t get.

I may not even be matched this year. Not everyone is matched in their first year, so they have to go through it again the next year. Special deferment was granted for those who fought in the war to put off their reaping a year or two.

“Leave your sister alone, Primrose. She has a big day ahead of her,” mother says as she joins us at the table. She pours herself a large mug of coffee and cups it with both hands, holding it under her nose to breathe it in. She closes her eyes before taking a sip.

I’m the first to finish and get up to leave. “Thanks for breakfast,” I tell them as I grab my gear and head toward the door. I’m in a hurry. My old hunting partner, Gale Hawthorne is back in the district today. I haven’t seen him since he went away to fight in the rebellion. After the fighting was over, he stayed in the military and moved to district three so he could study under the victor Beetee Latier.

“Don’t forget your cheese,” Prim says as she gets up from the table and hands me a perfect little goat cheese wrapped in basil leaves. It’s been a tradition since she started making goat cheese to give them as gifts on special occasions.

“Thank you,” I tell her with a hug as I pocket the cheese.

“Don’t stay out too long, Katniss,” mother says. “You need to report to the Justice Building by one thirty. We need time to get you ready.”

“I won’t,” I tell her as I slip outside.

Our part of District 12 is the merchant quarter. My mother and Prim run the apothecary, but we didn’t always live here. I grew up in the part of the district nicknamed the Seam, where the miners live. The apothecary had been vacant since my grandparents died when the mayor’s mansion was bombed at the start of the revolution. After the war, my mother applied for and was granted permission to take it over.

As I’m skipping down the back steps, I look over to the bakery next door. Peeta Mellark is walking toward the trash bin with a bag in his hand. He looks up at the sound of our door closing. “Hey Katniss,” he says with that contagious smile of his. “Heading out to the woods, I see.” He nods to my hunting gear after placing the bag in the bin.

“Yep,” I tell him with a smile of my own. “Gotta catch dinner for tonight.”

“Ooh. Wild game, that’s one advantage you have over the other girls in the reaping today,” he says, crossing his arms as he leans against the small fence that divides his yard from mine.

“Whatever you say, Mellark,” I tell him, shaking my head. He’s always teasing me about how different I am from the other girls who live in town. Not because I’m from the Seam, but like I’m some unique creature he’d never encountered before.

As I walk down the path I wonder who Peeta will be matched with. He’s such a kind person. He was the only person to help me and my family after my father died. He gave me bread that helped us survive and gave me hope to go on. I’m sure he’ll have no problems finding a match today. Lots of girls will be hoping to be the next baker’s wife. Peeta lost his mom at the start of the war. She was one of those lost in the bombing of the mayor’s mansion.

Even though there’s an entrance to the wood close to home, I make my way through town toward the Seam to the entrance by my old house. It makes me feel closer to my father. That’s where he would take me into the woods when I was a child.

The streets of the Seam are empty today. Usually, the workers would be out heading to their morning shift at the mines or the medicine factory, but the ceremony isn’t until two. Might as well sleep in if you can.

Our old house was almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few gates past it to reach the scruffy field we call the Meadow. The barbed wire loops that used to top the high chain-linked fence that separates the Meadow from the woods are gone. The fence remains to keep the wild animals out of the district, but gates have been installed at several locations around the perimeter to allow citizens access to the woods.

As soon as I’m in the trees, I look around for signs of a threat, like packs of wild dogs, bears, venomous snakes, or rabid animals. Inside the woods they roam freely, but there’s also food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Seven years later I sometimes still wake up screaming for him. But since Dr. Sidney, the head doctor, came to the district after the war, I’ve learned how to deal with my grief. My nightmares aren’t as frequent. Dr. Sidney helped my mother as well. She no longer lies in bed staring at the walls.

Before the war, trespassing in the woods was illegal, and poaching carried the severest of penalties, but the woods belong to us now, the citizens of District 12. Still, most people aren’t bold enough to venture out unarmed. My bow is a rarity, crafted by my father along with a few others that I keep well hidden in the woods, carefully wrapped in waterproof covers. If my father was still alive, he could have made good money selling them, but before the rebellion, if the officials found him selling weapons, he would have been publicly executed for sedition. Which is kind of ironic since the mine explosion that killed him was one of the catalysts for the rebellion.

We were never prosecuted for poaching back then because most of the Peacekeepers had turned a blind eye to the few of us who hunted. They were as hungry for fresh meat as anybody. Now we get food shipped in from other districts regularly, and I can sell my game openly to the other merchants at their back doors, and at my booth in the open-air market called the Hob.

In the woods waits my hunting partner Gale. I feel myself relaxing and quicken my pace when I think about seeing him again. I only got a quick chat with him yesterday when he arrived, mobbed by his family. He asked if we could meet up to hunt this morning like old times. I climb the hills to our rock ledge overlooking the valley. A thicket of berry bushes keeps it hidden. The sight of him brings on a smile. We used to be the best of friends before he went away.

He looks different than I remember. Not just older; he stands different, ridged and yet alert as if he is waiting for an attack from a wild lone wolf. He’s wearing gray uniform pants, and a faded black shirt. His eyes are sharper; they scan the area, before settling on mine.

“Hey Catnip,” says Gale. He knows my real name, but I had whispered it when we first met so he thought I said catnip. It stuck as a nickname even after all this time.

“Look what I shot,” Gale says as he holds up a loaf of bread with an arrow stuck in it. I let out an uncomfortable laugh. It’s fine bakery bread, the kind used during a toasting ceremony.

I’m not sure if he’s trying to impress me with what he can buy with his fancy new job, so I take the bread in my hands. I pull the arrow out and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose, inhaling the fragrance that reminds me of the blond haired, blue eyed son of the baker.

“Mm, still warm.” He must have been at the bakery at the crack of dawn to buy it. “Prim gave us cheese,” I tell him quickly as I pull it out of my pocket.

“Thank you, Prim,” Gale says as he pulls out a shiny knife from a sheath on his hip. I watch as he slices the bread. He could be my brother, same straight black hair, although his is cut short in a military style, same olive complexion, we even have the same gray eyes. We’re not related, at least not closely. Most of the families in the Seam resemble one another this way.

That’s why my mother and Prim, with their light hair and blue eyes used to look out of place when we lived in the Seam. They were. My mother’s parents were merchants. They ran the apothecary. That’s why she got it after the war. Now I’m the one out of place. I have the look of the Seam, but I live in town.

My father got to know my mother because he would collect medicinal herbs and sell them to her shop. She really loved him to leave her home for the Seam. Back then, the homes in the Seam were nothing more than shacks really. We had to boil water from the spigot in the yard if we wanted it hot. After the war, all of the squat gray houses in the Seam were replaced with new homes that are well insulated with running hot and cold water and reliable electricity.

Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, carefully placing a basil leaf on each slice while I strip the bushes of their berries. We settle back in the nook in our rock. I don’t eat much, since I already had breakfast, but it’s a nice treat. Everything would be perfect if all this day off meant was roaming the woods with Gale for a casual family dinner tonight, catching up on how our lives have changed since the war ended, but instead it feels awkward, like I’m here with a stranger instead of my old friend Gale.

“What’s it like in District 3?” I ask quietly to break the awkward silence between us. It was never like this before. He would rant about the unfair treatment the citizens endured, and how we should rise up against them. But now that the revolution is over and won, we don’t really have much to say.

“It’s alright, but I’ll be moving to District 2 after the ceremony. You’ll love it there. Mountains bigger than these. Lots of woods to hunt in.”

“Why would I want to go to District 2?” I ask. The idea is preposterous. I can’t leave my sister. Before the war, the fantasy was to run off, and live in the woods, but this conversation feels all wrong now. There’s never been anything romantic between Gale and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old, and although he was only two years older, he already looked like a man. It took a long time for us to even become friends, to stop haggling over every trade. Then he went off to war and moved to District 3 as a hero. His hero status gave him the option to postpone his reaping until this year.

Gale’s good looking, strong from his time as a soldier, and he has a good job in another district. He will be a desirable match at the reaping today. I don’t know why he would want me.

“Forget it,” he snaps.

I let out a breath and ask, “What do you want to do, hunt, fish, or gather?”

“Let’s fish at the lake,” he says. “We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something nice for tonight’s betrothal meal.”

Tonight, after the reaping, everyone is supposed to celebrate, but I’ll be betrothed. I’ll be spending time with my intended. He and his family will come to my house so we can get to know one another. Does Gale hope it will be him?

We fall into the comfortable silence I remember from hunting with him before he left. By late morning, we have a dozen fish, a bag of greens, and best of all, a gallon of strawberries.  

On the way home, we swing by the Hob and trade half the fish and greens for fresh vegetables. Greasy Sae gives us a nod as we walk by. Even with the beef and chicken coming in from other districts, her wild game soup that she calls beef is always a hit. The customers around her booth are talking away about today’s reaping.

When we finish at the Hob, we go to the back of the mayor’s home to sell half of the strawberries. The mayor lives in a modest house not unlike the others in the district. After the war, the residents of the district realized that the old mayor’s mansion was just another tool the Capitol used to keep us in the district divided. The poor people of the Seam resented the wealth the mayor and the merchants had. So when the mayor’s home was rebuilt, he had it built the same as all the others.

The mayor’s daughter Madge answers the door. She was in my year at school, and my closest friend since Gale left. Her everyday outfit has been replaced by an expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Clothes fitting for the betrothal reaping.

“Pretty dress,” says Gale.

Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it’s a genuine compliment. He used to antagonize her when we were younger, but now that he’s been gone for a few years it’s hard to tell. She presses her lips together and smiles. “Well I have to look nice for my reaping today, don’t I?”

“I’m sure you’ll have the match you want,” Gale says with a scoff.

Madge’s face has become closed off. She puts the money for the strawberries in my hand. “Good luck, Katniss.”

“You too,” I say, and the door closes.

I turn to Gale, “What did you mean by that?”

“Her father’s the mayor. People in power can influence the outcome of the reaping,” Gale says.

Madge’s father isn’t just the mayor. He was quite influential during the war. He was able to convince the residents of District 12 to join the revolution by bringing in Annie Cresta. Then he became our district’s liaison with the rest of the rebels.

Annie Cresta was the last Victor of the Hunger Games,and the spark that started the rebellion. She won the summer after my father died in the mining explosion. During her interview, after winning her games, she started screaming about her father and brother who were lost at sea with a whole ship full of fishermen just before her games. The Capitol played it off as her going mad. But during her victory tour she was more subdued, she would compare her district’s loss to the loss each district had suffered from a tragedy that same year.

The rumors started that perhaps the mine explosion that killed my father wasn’t an accident, but a sabotage to take out the rebel miners who had been planning an uprising. While in District 11, she talked about the silo collapse, in District 10 the stampede, and so on until she had rallied half the country behind her. Before her tour reached the Capitol, District 13 re-emerged from the ashes to sweep her off to be the face of the rebellion.

District 12 was one of the last districts still neutral to the rebellion even though the mayor tried to get our residents involved. He asked Annie Cresta to come back, to rally us to join the cause. Most of our Peacekeepers were recalled to the Capitol to fight off the uprisings in other districts. Those who stayed behind were sympathetic to the districts’ plight. The residents of District 12 wanted to wait out the war. If we didn’t join in, nothing would happen to us.

After the rally, while most of the residents of the district were at home debating why we should join the rebellion, the mayor hosted a dinner for Annie with the most influential Merchants and Seam residents. After the dinner was over, the mayor, his daughter Madge and a few others were seeing Annie off to her hovercraft back to District 13 when the mayor’s mansion was bombed by the Capitol. All those still inside were killed, including the mayor’s wife, his staff, my grandparents and many others.

The rally that day, along with the bombing that took out the mayor’s mansion, is what finally convinced the residents of District 12 to join the rebellion. We couldn’t stay neutral. The war came to us. Gale, among others old enough, went off to fight in the war. Not everyone came home. The baker’s oldest son died. Gale stayed in the military.

As we walk back toward my house, I glance over at Gale, still wondering why he came home this year. He could have participated in the reaping in his new district. I hope he didn’t come back here for me.

Gale and I arrive at the divide between the Seam and town and split up our spoils.

“See you in the square,” I say.

“Wear something pretty,” he says flatly as he walks towards his mother’s house in the Seam.

When I get home, Peeta is in the yard next door, feeding the pigs. “Hey, Katniss,” he says. “Good day hunting?”

“Yep, got some fish and greens for tonight,” I tell him.

“I’ve got a few recipes you can try out on your new family if you want?”

“Sure, that last one with the nuts was nice.” Curious I get closer. “So are you ready?”

He stops feeding the pigs. “I’m nervous,” he confesses.

“Nervous?” Peeta has nothing to be nervous about. He’s good like my sister Prim. Any of the women today would be lucky to have him.

“Well, what if the girl they pick for me doesn’t erm,” his face turned pink. “Well, like me.”

What he is saying is impossible.

“My parents didn’t have the best marriage, you know.”

I nod. I can see why he would be anxious. His parents did not get along; they hated each other but miraculously, had three boys.

I wish I had the words to be able to tell him that he had nothing to worry about. But nothing comes.

"Listen, I'll see you at the reaping. I've got to get ready. Don't want to scare my bride away by smelling like a pig pen."

I shake my head and laugh. When I go inside my mother sets aside her knitting and jumps up from her chair. “There you are,” she says as she helps me remove my hunting gear. She hands my bag to Prim and ushers me into the bathroom. “Get yourself a shower. You need to start getting ready.”

I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and wash my hair. When I’m done I find my favorite dress from my mother’s collection laid out on my bed. A soft orange, with white lace insets near the collar, and a tie at the waist. “Are you sure?” I ask.

“Of course. I’ll fix your hair,” she says.

After I’m dressed, I sit at the vanity as she towel dries my hair and I watch as she braids it up into a crown on top of my head. I hardly recognize myself in the mirror.

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.

“And nothing like myself,” I say as I hug her. Things are going to be so different after the reaping today.

Prim and mother get dressed. We have a quick lunch and then it’s time to go to the Justice Building to check in.

As we head toward the square, we are joined by others headed that way. Attendance is not mandatory like it was for the Hunger Games reapings, but most people show up anyway.

Mother and Prim hug me goodbye when I go into the Justice Building. After checking in, I’m ushered into the women’s waiting room. I find Madge and join her at the refreshment table.

At precisely 1:45, our escort, Effie Trinket, comes into the room. Miss Trinket was on track to be an escort for the Hunger Games, but she was actually a rebel working inside the system to help bring it down. After the revolution she became our escort for the betrothal reaping. Her bright pink clothes and makeup, while much more flamboyant than what those of us in the district would wear, is nowhere near as garish as the makeup and outfits worn by our last Hunger Games escort.

“Ladies, it’s time to follow me out onto the stage,” Effie says and we all line up to follow her out.

As we go out onto the stage, a cheer begins to rise from the crowd gathered in front of the Justice Building. Effie escorts us to the several rows of seats arranged on the left side of the stage. Madge and I sit next to each other.

Once we are all seated, Effie goes back into the building, but comes out a few minutes later followed by the group of men for the reaping. She escorts them to the seats on the right side of the stage. They are all wearing their best suits. Peeta gives me a wave before he sits in the second row. Gale sits in the front row in his military uniform.

At precisely 2 o’clock, Mayor Undersee steps up to the podium and begins his speech. He talks about the history of Panem: the dark days, the first failed rebellion, the 70 years of the Hunger Games, and then the revolution that freed Panem. He talks about how we have to rebuild Panem, the population lost from the Games and the war. Which brings us to today, the Betrothal Reaping. He then introduces Effie Trinket.

“Welcome, welcome,” Effie says. “It’s such an honor to be here, to help bring together the families who will be the future of our country.” She goes on to explain how the selections are not random. The answers we gave in the surveys taken during school, as well as our DNA were used to determine the matches. “Now, onto the pairings!” she says, and with a flair of her hand pulled out a stack of envelopes.

She plucks the first envelope from the stack and calls out, “Delly Cartwright!”

Delly jumps up from her seat, and quickly walks up to stand next to Effie. Delly is practically vibrating in anticipation. I wish I could be that excited. I just hope I get someone I can stand.

“And your match is,” Effie pauses dramatically, “Thom Davison!”

Thom, one of Gale’s old classmates who didn’t get matched in his previous two reapings, looks around bewildered. He gets a nudge from the person sitting next to him before he gets up and walks up to the podium to formally meet Delly.

Delly and Thom are ushered to the back of the stage where they stand next to each other whispering, with big smiles on their faces. I guess that means they are happy with that match.

“Very good,” says Effie. “Our next match is the mayor’s daughter, Madge Undersee.”

I squeeze Madge’s hand and she stands and gracefully walks up to stand next to Effie Trinket.

“And your match is… the local hero, Gale Hawthorne!” Effie exclaims. A quiet murmur goes through the crowd. That pairing was unexpected. I think everyone expected me to be paired with Gale, but I know it would have never worked out, we’re too alike.

Gale doesn’t look very happy at his selection, but stands and walks up to meet Madge. They stiffly shake hands, then walk back to stand next to Delly and Thom. It’s quite the contrast between the two pairs.

“Wonderful!” Effie says with a little too much enthusiasm. “Next up we have, Katniss Everdeen.”

I stand up slowly, then stiffly walk to stand next to the podium.

“And your partner is… Peeta Mellark,” Effie calls out.

My eyes go wide as I think, Oh, it’s him, my neighbor, my friend. The boy, no man, I correct myself, who saved my life and gave me hope. The man who reminded me that I was not doomed. The man who’s name I wrote on my questionnaire. I feel a smile come across my face as I watch Peeta get up and walk toward me. The smile on his face matches mine.

When he reaches me we stand and stare at each other for a moment before Effie Trinket clears her throat. “Go ahead, shake hands,” she urges. Peeta's large warm hand engulfs mine, and he gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Go ahead,” she tells us, nudging us toward the back of the stage.

When I drop Peeta’s hand, I feel the loss of warmth immediately, but I feel his hand at the small of my back as he escorts me to join the others. “Told ya I’d see you at the reaping,” Peeta whispers in my ear, and I can’t help but laugh. After that, I’m in a bit of a daze and miss most of the remaining matches.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Effie dismisses the few remaining people who didn’t get paired up and calls the matched pairs to the front of the stage. Delly and Thom lead the way, arm in arm. Madge and Gale walk stiffly side by side. Peeta takes my hand and leads me toward the front of the stage, and the couples behind us follow suit. When we are all lined up, Effie calls out, “District 12, I give you your new couples. Please join us in the reception hall for family introductions.”

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That’s the end of part 1. This will continue as a work in progress.

A few notes: Dr. Sidney is named after Dr. Sidney Freedman from the final episode of the TV show M*A*S*H. He helped the main character work through his PTSD. Thom Davison is named for Dave Thomas of Wendy’s fame, who seemed like such a sweet man. The character Thom in canon is only mentioned a few times, but he is such a great guy. Gale’s friend who helps carry him back after the reaping, and then after the war Thom comes back and takes on the task of clearing away the debris so the district can rebuild.

[dothwrites]

Destiel, perhaps arranged marriage enemies to lovers tropes, with one or both thinking the other is dead and then REUNION. Bonus points for medieval au, mafia au, or no one actually says “I love you” until AFTER THE REUNION

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I fiddled around with the prompt a little bit; hopefully this is what you wanted! also this has been in my inbox for forever and a day i’m such trash i’m sorry

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Dean wakes to a hand clamped over his mouth and nose. He’s suffocating. 

His hand grabs under the pillow for his gun before he remembers: there are no weapons allowed in the Novak’s inner sanctum. At least, he’s not allowed weapons. He jerks against the hand but those fingers are pure steel, pushing down on his mouth and nose until the lack of air makes him dizzy. 

Cold eyes glint down at him. Dean’s brain, working at double-speed, easily places the face. 

Castiel Novak. 

When it comes to Castiel Novak, son of Michael Novak, there’s a whole host of emotions swirling in Dean’s chest. Some of them are good, some of them are murderous, and all of them roar up to the surface as he looks at Cas. 

Castiel isn’t supposed to enter his bedroom without express permission. It was one of the many rules hashed out when the exchange was made. For Castiel to break it means that he has some kind of death wish. Either that, or something’s very wrong. 

Judging from the grim look on Cas’ face, Dean’s willing to go with the second option.  

“What’s wrong?” He tries to ask, except Castiel’s hand is still over his mouth, so the words come out in a garbled wuss wruuung. Dean glares venom at Castiel and finally manages to yank Castiel’s hand away from his mouth (no small task, Castiel is like a brick wall). 

“You need to come with me,” Castiel says, his low, rough voice brooking no disagreement. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

If possible, Castiel’s expression hardens further. “Get out of bed and get dressed.” 

Furious, Dean starts to argue, but the soft click of a safety being removed stops him. Moonlight glints off the barrel of Castiel’s gun as he points it directly at Dean’s face. “I said,” Castiel orders, his voice smooth and deadly as poisoned silk, “get out of bed and get dressed.” 

Dean’s upper lip lifts in a snarl, but he does as ordered. For now, he’s forced into compliance, at least until he can come up with a plan. “You’re fucking dead, Novak,” he mutters, searching for his pants. 

Castiel says nothing, but keeps the gun trained on him until Dean is dressed down to his boots and jacket. “Pack a bag. Only take what you need.” 

Questions rise, but Dean voices none of them. He already knows it wouldn’t do him any good. Castiel’s not a chatty man at the best of times, less so when he has a gun in his hand. Dean turns to his closet, looking for his duffel back, left virtually untouched. He’s never unpacked since he moved into the Novak compound, too homesick and resentful to try making a new home out of this place. 

“You gonna kill me, Cas?” he asks, turning to face Castiel and holding his arms open in apparent surrender. 

“Come with me,” is all Castiel says, before he gestures with the gun towards the door. “Quietly. If you scream, it’s worth your life.” 

---

The kicker is, Dean thought that he and Castiel were actually...well...not friends exactly, but whatever came before friends. Allies. Maybe partners, if he was being optimistic. After all, it’s not like Castiel didn’t get equally screwed in the deal between John Winchester and Michael Novak. 

Everyone who wasn’t John Winchester or Michael Novak got screwed in the deal. It was simple: an exchange between the families, an eldest son for an eldest son. Dean Winchester went to the Novaks, while Gabriel Novak went to the Winchesters. The exchange was meant to keep peace between the two families, and usher in a new era of cooperation, or whatever bullshit they said to try and sell it. Dean’s brain had shut down around the same time his father told him he would be going to the Novaks. One look at his father told him that protesting would be for naught: he would be going to the Novaks, as helpless as a child bride, while an enemy would be coming to take his place. 

Dean had arrived at the Novak’s compound and been met by Castiel Novak. If he hadn’t hated the other man for everything he stood for, then he would have been impressed by the unruly dark hair, the luminous blue eyes, the chiseled jaw, all topping a taut, muscular body dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. But Castiel’s family had ripped him away from everything he’d known, taken him away from Sam, and put an imposter in his place. 

When Dean was dumped into an unfamiliar place, it was Castiel who was his guide. Castiel, who was about as thrilled at Dean’s presence in his house as Dean was, but who still tolerated his presence. Dean followed Castiel around, learning the layout of the mansion, but never coming close to the Novak’s secrets. Not that he expected to, but he still felt like he was falling down on the job, failing his family by not gathering every piece of information about an enemy that he could. Eventually, Castiel’s taciturn nature had softened, leading Dean to the apparently mistaken presumption that he and Castiel were on track to become partners. 

How wrong he’d been. 

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Dean and Castiel walk through familiar halls to an unfamiliar staircase. The gun pointed at his back keeps their pace fairly brisk. Dean keeps searching for some kind of weapon, only to come up empty. He would try to rush Castiel and take the gun, but he’s sparred against Cas a few times. Though it’s a hit to his pride to admit, he’s not entirely sure he could beat Castiel in a fight, even if the qualifier of the gun weren’t an issue. 

“If you’re going to kill me, don’t you want an audience?” Dean’s steps echo on the steps, Castiel following close behind. “Got the definite impression most of you Novaks would be only too happy to see my brains blown out.” 

Dean Winchester is not known for making friends. 

“Hurry up,” is all Castiel says in reply, as he leads Dean to a door almost hidden in the dark paneling of the room. Dean’s never seen this part of the Novak mansion, and he hesitates to think of what’s behind that door--torture chambers? Whatever it is, it’s likely to be unpleasant. 

Still, it’s not like he has a choice in the matter, so he opens the door, and steps into...

“A garage?” Of all possible rooms, he wasn’t expecting this. Dozens of cars, antiques as well as the newest models of sport cars, sit gleaming in the dim light. “You want me to fix your engine?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” Castiel growls, but there’s more exasperation than true anger in the voice. “Come here, and hurry, we don’t have a lot of time.” 

For the first time, it occurs to Dean that he might not have a full grip on this situation. 

Castiel passes all of the cherries in the garage and leads him to a small, dumpy looking sedan. Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste (every car he compares to the Impala is ultimately found lacking, but this car is particularly offensive), even as Castiel presses a pair of keys and a thin slip of paper into his hand. 

“Take this car and go to that address. Everything’s been set up; you’ll have food and supplies for about six weeks. I assume you know enough to change cars as soon as you can so that one can’t be traced. You’ll have to dump your phone as soon as you can, preferably in a different place than you dump the car.” 

“Cas, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean’s been willing to go along with this for a while (guns are a good way of ensuring compliance), but here is where he draws the line. “You need to explain yourself right the fuck now.” 

Castiel clenches his jaw as thunder and lightning flicker in his eyes. Dean knows, from painful experience, that Castiel doesn’t enjoy having his will thwarted, but there’s no alternative. Castiel seems to assume that Dean will placidly comply with his whims, but Dean has never placidly complied with anything. 

“You’re in danger, but if you do what I say, then you’ll be in slightly less danger.” 

Cas pushes at Dean’s shoulder, but Dean whips his hand out, catching Cas’ wrist in his hand. “Gonna have to do a lot better than that, Cas,” he warns, squeezing just tightly enough to spark a hint of pain as the tiny bones grind together. 

Cas snarls with impatience before yanking his wrist out of Dean’s grip. “This whole agreement, the exchange...It’s all a setup. You, me, Gabriel, and Sam--we’re all pawns.” 

Dean blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“In about twenty minutes, several members of the Novak family are going to storm your bedroom with the intent to kill you, while across town, the same thing is happening in Gabriel’s room. In the morning, the eldest son of the Winchesters and the eldest son of the Novaks will both be dead, under the roof of the family who was, up until a few weeks ago, their worst enemy.” A twisted, bitter smile plays at Castiel’s mouth. 

“They want to start a war,” Dean breathes, disbelief and horror warring within him. What Cas is saying sounds so ludicrous, and yet...What reason would Cas have to lie? 

Castiel’s face is grim as he nods. “The Novaks blame the Winchesters, the Winchesters blame the Novaks, and then, just to complicate matters, Lucifer will also claim responsibility.” 

“Why?” 

Castiel shrugs, arms thrown wide in helplessness. “To sow chaos? Power? The city’s three most powerful families caught in a war? Whoever survives, whoever’s alive at the end...That family will have everything. They’ll own everything.” 

“And that’s worth the risk?” 

Castiel shrugs, a helpless little edge in the gesture. “If you think you’ll win, then I suppose so. The problem is, all three think they can win.” 

Castiel’s eyes are dark as something complicated swirls behind them. Absurdly, Dean’s heart lurches forward. For a second, he wants--But then he forces himself to pull back. “And running away will help?”

“It’s the best plan I could come up with on short notice,” Castiel snaps. “You need to get to the safe house now.” 

“Wait,” Dean breathes, as the pieces finally start to click. “You said...the assholes that are coming to kill me...They’re coming to my house...” Rage lights in him and Dean surges forward. Heedless of the gun in Castiel’s hand, he wraps his fingers around the other man’s throat. “You son of a bitch, my brother is there!” 

He squeezes, sick satisfaction curling in him as he watches a red flush spread to Castiel’s cheeks. He only has a moment to savor the feeling before Castiel shoves him away. 

“Asshole,” he coughs. His eyes water but he never blinks as he stares at Dean. “My brother’s in that house too. You think I’d let him get killed?” His upper lip curls, whether in anger or disdain, Dean doesn’t know. “Gabriel and Sam are headed to the same safe house that you are.” 

“And you? Where are you going?” 

Castiel fixes his gaze on a point beyond Dean’s shoulder. “We can’t all disappear. Someone has to stay.” 

Furious for reasons he can’t comprehend, Dean snaps, “And that someone has to be you?” 

Castiel clenches his jaw around his words. “It’s bad enough that you, Gabriel, and Sam are all going to disappear on the same night. You’re going to have the Winchesters, the Novaks, and Lucifer all on your trail. But if I stay, then I can try to cover you for as long as I can.” 

“Or you could get yourself killed!” Dean drags his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know why the thought of Cas getting hurt sits so sour in his stomach, but it does, to the point where he thinks he might vomit if he thinks about it too long. “Your family isn’t stupid. They’re going to see me gone, and they’re going to connect the dots pretty damn quickly!” 

“I can make it look like you overpowered me. I can take care of myself.” Cas glares. “And none of this is going to matter if you don’t get the hell out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving without you.” Dean plants his feet.  

Dean’s ready for Cas to throw a punch or shove a gun in his face. But he’s not ready for Cas to lunge forward, face like a tempest, and drag him close with one hand twisted in his hair. He’s not ready for Cas’ lips to crash into his, he’s not ready for a swirl of lust and want and affection to hit him with the force of a truck. 

For a few blessed seconds, he and Cas are the only people in the world. Dean’s world narrows to Cas’ lips, Cas’ touch, Cas’ body pressed against him. Dean’s mouth opens under the onslaught and Cas takes advantage, his tongue mapping the contours of Dean’s mouth with a thoroughness bordering on savagery. 

Dean could get lost in Cas, could go so far under that he never makes it back to the surface. He pulls himself away and tries to get rid of the feeling like he left something important behind. 

“Please,” Cas asks, his voice rough and wrecked. “Please go.” He forces a sickly smile. “Once the heat dies down, I’ll join you. I promise.” 

Over the course of his life, Dean’s become quite the accomplished liar. He thought Cas be the same, but the man folds like a bad hand of cards. Grief rips through Dean as Cas pushes him towards the car. 

“If you don’t come--” Dean starts, only to be cut off by Cas’ lips pressed into his. He pulls away, much as it hurts, and holds Cas’ chin in a harsh grip. “If you don’t show up, then we’re coming for you, and that’s going to cause a damn big ruckus, so you’d better show up.” 

“Of course.” Cas’ mouth might say one thing, but his sad eyes say another. “Please, you’re running out of time. Please Dean, please go.” 

Dean throws his duffel into the backseat and turns back to Cas. This time, they move as one, their hands grappling through hair and clothes, mouths and teeth clacking in an awkward tangle of need and want. “You’d better fucking show up,” Dean hisses, nipping at Cas’ lower lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Go,” Cas pleas. 

Cas pulls Dean’s hand away from him. His touch is so deft and sure that Dean doesn’t realize he’s been given the gun until Cas wraps his fingers around the barrel. He looks between it and Cas, confusion and fear clashing within him. 

“You have to make this look real.” 

Dean looks down at the gun again. “I’m not going to shoot you!” 

A quick smile flashes across Cas’ face, sweet enough to break Dean’s heart. “Please don’t. But if you want to help me sell this thing, then you have to make it look like we had a struggle.” 

Cas’ eyes are steady as he looks at Dean, and the gun is a solid weight in his hand. Dean’s stomach clenches as he lifts the gun. “Do it,” Cas whispers, and he might think that helps, but it just sends another jolt of guilt straight through him. 

Dean looks past Cas’ shoulder as he hefts the gun. He brings it crashing against Cas’ temple in one quick, harsh blow. The sound of impact churns his stomach and he can’t help but moan as Cas crashes down to his knees. Blood trickles from underneath his hairline, tracing a thin path down his cheek. 

Castiel Novak is a tough son of a bitch. 

Dean hit him, full strength, with the intention of putting him down. Cas isn’t fighting against him, Cas wants to go down. And yet, the part of Cas that claws to survival with a tenacious, desperate grip, is still clinging onto consciousness. 

Make it real, Cas said, knowing that being knocked unconscious was the only way he could ever hope to sell the subterfuge of Dean’s escape. 

Dean owes Cas not only his life, but Sam’s life as well. If there’s anything he can do for Cas, even if it tears him apart, he has to try. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, just before he slams the butt of the gun into Cas’ head. 

With a sick, wet sound, Cas hits the ground and doesn’t get up. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Dean turns Cas onto his side, careful not to jostle him too much. The thin trickle of blood has become a stream which covers the side of his face in crimson. Dean’s heart catches in his chest at the sight, and he doesn’t relax until his shaking fingers press against Cas’ jaw to find his pulse. It’s a little thready, but still steady. 

Reluctantly, Dean pulls away. He wants to take the time to lay Cas out and make him comfortable. It feels wrong, leaving Cas unconscious on the cold, dirty floor, but it would look suspicious if Cas was arranged neatly. Cas is trusting him to do this right; Cas is trusting Dean to take care of him. 

Dean swings himself into the car and starts the engine. The garage door opens and freedom beckons by way of the open road. Down that road is Sam and safety. Dean knows he needs to follow that path. He needs to take care of Sam. 

But he still can’t help looking back in the rearview, heart twisting in his chest at the sight of Cas’ crumpled figure. 

--

part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

NOW COMPLETE