#i keep going back to those text messages and seeing ruthless she was and how i said i was sorry for being this way and she accepted the apol

[wormsdyke]

god people really will say the most fucked up stuff to people who are not palatable in their mental illness!

[diordrysdale]

after dark ⋆ andy barber (part 3)

dark!neighbor!andy barber x camgirl!reader, ft. devin peters x camgirl!reader

word count ⋆ 2.1k

warnings ⋆ smut! minors dni, cheating (laurie is cheating on andy, andy is implied to be cheating/will cheat) reader sends a video where she’s giving devin head, fingering, degradation, squirting, daddy kink, implied murder oop— ft. devin peters: oral sex (m receiving), slight degradation.

authors note ⋆ I HAD TO SWITCH ANDY FROM SOFT!DARK TO JUST DARK!ANDY YALL IN FOR A RIDE I WAS JUST WRITING THIS AND I WENT DOWN A DARK PATH SO HERE IT IS FINALLY PART 3

+ reminder of who devin peters is, he’s chris evans’ character in the movie don’t look up!

don’t forget to give me some love, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

previous part

shit, shit, shit!

as soon as andy scurried back into his home, he peeled through the curtain of the window near laurie’s favorite sofa— the one she was currently on.

“I need a ride to my yoga class, andy.” she spoke as she typed away on her phone, laughing at the texts she was receiving from a friend.

yoga class, sure.

he watched as you stood in place, dumbfounded before the movie star tugged you back towards the house, practically pawing at your breasts for attention.

you giggled as he kissed and sucked at your neck, shoving him away to play hard to get, took one last glance at mr. barber’s house, and sighed, convincing yourself it was most definitely a coincidence.

andy, on the other hand, was losing his mind.

-

so, you were living next door, what could he do about it? go up to the door and give a polite hello, make small talk and confess how he’s been touching himself to you for the past 4 months?

maybe how he’s dreamt constantly of pounding you into his mattress as you drool on his sheets, neither of you knowing whether you’re begging him to stop or keep ruining your hole.

“…andy! here’s fine!” andy hit the breaks, the wheel’s screech pulling him from his thoughts as laurie opens the door without a simple thank you or goodbye, running up to her friends.

he began to drive off, reaching for his phone, unlocking it and grinning for what he was challenging himself to do.

��hey, SIRI, uh, sex shops near me.”

-

NEXT DAY

tears had dried on your cheeks as you caught your breath, letting your boyfriend tease your lips with the tip of his cock.

“look at you, all hungry for this dick.” he hummed, his free hand holding up your phone, filming your every move.

you said you’d airdrop it to him later, but you had other plans for this home video.

“fuckin’ slut..” you shut your eyes to avoid rolling them, the degradation just didn’t come naturally with him, oh, but with mr. barber.

if your neighbor was indeed your favorite subscriber, he was in for a treat.

“why’s a mr. barber texting you on your site?I thought you didn’t entertain those freaks on your live chat?” devin pulled you from your thoughts when a notification pinged on the top of your screen.

wrapping your lips around his veiny cock, you sucked harshly, distracting him from the text message as he gasped out, hand forcing your head down as he began to fuck your throat in a sloppy manner.

the wet gagging noises sent him over the edge, overflowing your mouth with his sticky load— wasn’t the best taste. although, it still made your mind stray to how mr. barber—

“let me see it.” he groaned, cupping your cheek with a softness you hated.

you couldn’t make up your mind about this guy, no matter how many millions of dollars laid on his dollars

sure, he was an admired actor, celebrity crush to many, and you had him at your beck and call.

but you were insatiable.

you had daydreamed of becoming his girl, riding him in his luxurious cars, and being the pretty little thing on his arm at movie premieres, red carpets, you name it.

but hollywood was ruthless to girl with a job like yours.

maybe starring on the big screen and having paparazzi shadow you wasn’t your thing, but being loved after dark was, and you were okay with that.

opening your mouth, you revealed his load before you swallowed it, glancing up at him for some sort of praise but he just exhaled, sinking into the sofa as he put his softening penis away.

you snatched your forgotten phone from the couch and saved the video before reading the text message, feeling your heart drop to your stomach.

barber543

hello neighbor.

-

andy hid the newly purchased box of sex toy items under the bed, his chest swelled with pride when he imagined how ruined he’d leave you by the end of the night, have you begging for him to stay, to touch your sweet pussy again, and again, til you couldn’t bare another orgasm.

official-kitten

there’s no way it’s you

he chuckled, he could just picture your cute expression of brows furrowed together, biting at your inner cheek.

barber543

come over and find out.

andy was always the type to take charge of a situation, but he was positive you’d be his tonight. and every night after that.

-

swallowing hard at mr. barber’s recent message, you slid your back down against the bathroom wall, thumbs dancing across the screen.

official-kitten

I’m busy daddy

🎥 0:45

your heart pounded in your ears as you linked the video devin filmed of you, and sent it— it was a russian roulette, you had absolutely no clue what he’d say—

barber543

not even a minute?

did he return the favor? or are you just a cocksleeve.

bet he didn’t even touch you

his punctuation made you giggle, but your hand began to slither down beneath your panties, ghosting over your clit.

official-kitten

he didn’t even make me wet :(

barber543

I’m not surprised.

I’m guessing you’re all needy. and pathetic.

official-kitten

don’t be mean :(

your middle finger and ring finger began to rapid circle on your clit, the sight of your hand moving beneath your underwear made your heart race.

barber543

you don’t know half of it, princess.

come over, or I’ll fuck you stupid in front of your friend.

removing your fingers before you came, you breathed heavily, smiling at the texts as you stood up with a rush, exiting the bathroom as you called out for devin who had made himself busy in the kitchen.

“what’s up, babe?” he chewed on a simple ham sandwich, scrolling through his twitter feed, mostly raising his ego with all the complements and praise thrown his way.

“you need to leave, now.” you shoved his beanie into his chest as he frowned, scoffing.

“i need to do my skin-care routine, do my mani-pedi, you know,” you rambled nervously, but he came to be truly understanding, kissing your forehead.

“fine, fine! send me the video, dollface.” he walked out the door, inhaling the fresh boston air, looking around the calm neighborhood til he made eye contact with the man they’d encountered earlier.

andy waved at the celebrity with full intent of fucking you into his mattress, the bedroom floor, the kitchen counter, and laurie’s pitiful garden in the front yard.

“hey, y/n,” devin called over his shoulder, still narrowing his eyes at the floofy haired man, as you waltzed over to him, glancing up at him, “don’t go on stream tonight. got a feeling there’s gonna be some creeps on the live.”

“sure thing, devy,” you stepped on your tippy toes to lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “I’ve got other plans.”

-

you applied your gloss, extremely giddy to finally meet the man who had been paying for quite literally everything you could dream of.

you wondered what he did for a living, how he stumbled upon your live stream and if he thought about you daily.

what if he was a psychopath? you had lost count of how many people you had blocked due to their obsession with you, driving you to the point to being constantly paranoid, always glancing over your shoulder and double checking your door at night.

fuck it.

shutting your door on your way out, you fiddled with your fingers, cracking your knuckles which had been a nervous habit of yours.

til someone pulled up to the driveway.

it was a woman, brunette, with a disconsolate look on her face.

of course, he had a wife. why weren’t you surprised? most of the good ones were taken.

“oh! hello..” the woman wiped her drippy nose on her wrist, hugging herself as she stood in front of you, waiting for you to present yourself.

“i’m [y/n], lila’s friend. I’m house-sitting and i just- I can’t seem to, uh…“

“get the washing machine to start? cindy always has that problem, but luckily, my husband andy helps her out. it happens at least every week.” your jaw clenched at the information, feeling yourself turn green with envy, but your heart stopped when the man of the hour stepped out to the driveway, locking eyes with you.

“honey, lila’s friend here needs help with the washer, go.” she sniffled, causing andy to cup her cheek and angle her face up, allowing him to see her bloodshot eyes.

“what happened? where’s jacob, is he okay?” laurie nodded her head, clearing his anxiety a bit til he caught her left hand— ring finger, completely bare.

“we need to talk.” laurie muttered as andy wrinkled his nose at the scent of another man’s cologne on her.

“I’ll just-“

“no!” you and laurie whipped your heads at him, making him breath out a laugh as he reached for your hand— time froze, not just for you.

“I’ll help you first, I just need to get some tools. give her something to drink, laurie.” before you knew it, you began following him and his wife into his home, wondering what scheme he had planned.

he gently closed the door behind you, not missing the chance to place his hand on your lower back, leading you into the kitchen, pouring you a glass of deep red wine, ignoring how his wife had excused herself to the upstairs bathroom.

alas, the two of you were alone.

slowly with a hint of intimidating, he began to corner you against the counter as you look down at your feet with natural submission, making him chuckle and hold your chin between his pointer and thumb.

“wait for me upstairs, second room on the right.” you glanced up at him with a parted jaw, “I want you playing with your pussy, legs spread, only wearing this shirt. go.” his command made you raise an eyebrow.

“you can’t tell me what to do.” your bratty response made him scoff as his hand slipped beneath your pajama shorts, cupping your mound as his middle finger dragged against your clothed slit, making you shiver.

“no? you sure about that?” he smirks at the wet spot on your panties, watching you squirm, in person? fuck, you couldn’t let you go. ever.

“tell daddy what you’re gonna do for him,” he whispers, his pulse accelerating when your trembling hand rose to caress his beard.

“I’m gonna play with my pussy and wait for him. and then, I’m gonna let him do whatever he wants to me,” you whimpered when he pinched at your clit, “let daddy use me and my holes.”

you were a damn menace with your words.

“you’ll be daddy’s cumrag?” he suggested as his hard-on grew against his slacks, compelling him to grind desperately against your stomach.

“yes, please,” you dragged out as looked up at him with lust filled eyes, leaning against him, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“and let me shove my cock in this little pussy when I feel like it?“ pushing aside your panties, his fingers began pistoning past your velvet walls, adoring the immediate debauched look on your face before he kissed your soft lips for the first time.

“anything you want— fuck!”

“beg for your daddy, kitten, beg for daddy to taste your pussy,” the squelching noises, his alluring voice, it was too much.

“fuck! daddy- m’ gonna squirt, ah! pleaseplease-“ he was quick to keep you from falling to your knees, grunting when your legs violently shook, your cunt spurting your juices on his cupped hand.

“my kitten, all mine,” he growled, his pink lips attacking your bare neck, sucking and nipping at your skin as you attempted to even your breath, but you still felt unsatisfied.

you needed to be fucked.

“want your dick, please, please,” you babbled out, your hands moved with a mind of their own, desperately wanting to touch him but he laughed, continuing to rub your slit.

“you’re a little slut, my wife’s in the house! what if she heard you?” he asked with a grin, removing his wet hand and beginning to lead to you out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“hurts! I need to feel you inside me,” you pawed at his belt, making him sigh in content before he clutches your cheeks in his hand, it smelled of your scent.

“then fucking wait for me upstairs. second room on the left.” he demanded through gritted teeth, watching you scamper what was left of the staircase.

he rushes to the kitchen, grabbing the first knife he could get his hands on and heads back upstairs with an emotionless façade.

he couldn’t have anymore distractions tonight.

his job was to fuck you as many times you begged him to, and claim you as him.

“laurie, I’m ready to talk!” he calls out to his wife for the last time, gripping at what was to become a murder weapon.

well, only if the police found out.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

a/n; oh y/n, now he’ll never let you go.

[yunverse]

[ ☆ ] ── REALITY CHECK❕

TEN | ON MY MIND

wc: 1.3k+

── ✰. [ 3:45 PM ] "YOU'RE ON MY MIND."

The backside stairwell was Sunghoon's personal meet up spot in the novel. It was a place devoid of any gossiping students and the annoying squeeks of sneakers dragging across the floors. It was Sunghoon's personal quiet space and the only reasonable explanation that he would've gone there was to either sort out his own thoughts or meet Yui.

Sunghoon had just exited the same stairwell moments ago, eyebrows knitted together, possibly frustrated by what had transpired. He always carried himself in a aloof manner, never smiling at anyone who passed by, but today his aura seemed to grow colder with every step he took. He sent everyone who passed by an annoyed glare as if they were clogging up the hallways, making it difficult for people to pass by — and yn was no exception. The boy proceeded to send her a glare as she walked past, not saying a single word.

In the novel, sunghoon never got angry at Yui, nor did he ever raise his voice at her, which lead to yn mentally crossing out the possibility of Yui being present in those stairwells.

Maybe he was just having a personal issue and needed some alone time.

Or maybe he was lecturing a younger player from their football team.

Yn had lots of ideas in mind.

But the last thing she expected to see was sora, sobbing into her own palms in the empty backside stairwell. Her back was facing towards her, but yn could clearly hear the soft sniffles and see the way her body heaved.

Sora was never known to cry in the original novel, rather, she was a villain who was the cause of other people's tears. A ruthless bully, who was entertained by the pain and agony her victims would expirence. She was someone who found it funny when people begged for help. But some how, the sniffling girl in front of yn seemed fragile, broken and most importantly, misunderstood.

Before yn could initiate any conversation with the girl, she felt her phone lightly buzzing in her inner blazer pocket. Closing the door once again without a single peak, yn left sora to her privacy as she strolled down the empty halls, looking through the texts she had received.

Her phone had been constantly going off, filled with notifications from her group chat and Ning ning stringing broken words together in her direct messages.

What had gone on that had them just key smashing every second?

Checking the group chat for context wasn't the best choice as hundreds of messages were exchanged throughout the past ten minutes. But before yn could keep scrolling, the girl heard yelling and gasps come from the main hall area. The commotion wasn't one that could go unnoticed, and yn, who had spent her weeks watching every novel moment unravel in front of her was definitely not going to miss whatever was going on near the main entrance.

Rushing down the stairs, yn wriggled through the chaos to get a better view of what was going on. People were fighting, but she couldn't quite make out the two figures were. Her first instinct was to think of Jay and Jake. It was around this time when they had a big fight in the novel revolving around Yui. However, yn had no comfirmation of this as the crowd wasn't very forgiving, and she ended up in the back of the crowd, near the brick walls.

Attempting to cure her curiousity, she looked over the shoulders of others, tiptoeing as she squinted her eyes to get a better view. "Gosh I can't see anything, who's fighting?" She spoke, still shifting from left to right, attempting to peak over the shoulders of the jam-packed crowd.

She expected a random student beside her to answer, but instead there was a pause and a light chuckle.

"So now you want to talk to me huh angel? Youre not mad anymore" The voice spoke, stealing Yn's attention instantly.

Her head snapped towards the boy who leaned on the brick wall with his arms crossed, seemingly amused by your presence instead of the fight was boring him a second ago. Yn mentally cursed at herself, rolling her eyes in frustration. There were hundereds of students. How damned could her luck have been to be standing beside none other than Lee Heeseung himself.

"I don't have time for you Heeseung," yn spoke, gluing her eyes back at the crowd who was now "booing" at whatever had just transpired. "Who's fighting?"

"Aw don't be so impatient. Don't you think it's a little unfair that you went a day completely ignoring me without giving me an explanation, and now you're talking to me as If nothing happened?" He questioned, proud of what he just said.

Before you could answer the boy, the crowd shifted slightly, leaving you a slim opening between the shoulders of the people infront of you.

It was just as you expected. Peering through the crowd, yn could clearly make out Jay, who was on top of Jake, punching him as the boy underneath attempted to retaliate.

In the novel, the same exact fight had occurred and the reasoning the novel gave its readers was that Jay was jealous of Jake's closeness with Yui. What made it worse is that Yui was the one, who stopped the fight and took Jake to the infirmary, completely ignoring Jay's bruises.

A romantic development between Jake and Yui would then flourish from the on, and the two would end up dating the day after.

However, the two boy's incoherent exchanged words right now didn't seem to be about Yui.

"Your mind must be clouded with all this chaos huh? Your eyes arre practically glued on the fight." Heeseung spoke, snapping Yn back to reality.

The girl sighed, steeping back. Yes, the fight was getting a little overwhelming, but she knew Yui would show up anytime to stop the fight. "Then what are you doing, Mr. Captain? Your teammates are practically fighting the the death, and here you are, watching it go down as if it was some entertainment reality show."

Yn's words earned her another amused chuckle from the boy who's smug grin never seemed to leave his lips. "I don't know, they'll get over it in a bit. They're always like that. And besides, I have more important things on my mind."

"And what's that?" Yn scoffed, waiting for Heeseung to make up some random bullshit.

"You." He spoke sternly, smiling dropping immediately as his eyes stared directly into hers. His tone was unwavering, without an inking of it being a joke, causing yn to jolt slightly under his cold hard gaze.

Before the girl could say anything, Heeseung's mouth curved back into his regular grin. "I'm kidding," he snickered. "But speaking of 'you,' why are you ignoring me."

Letting go the weird shift in Heeseung personality a second ago, Yn awkwardly laughed, trying to make up some random excuse that wouldn't leave room for any. suspicions.

"If you're gonna give me some half-assed excuse, I don't wanna hear it." Heeseung spoke, interfering with her thoughts once again. "Instead, just don't leave me hanging like that ever again."

Before Yn could respond, there was a high-pitched shout, coming from the left side of the hallway. Yui came, rushing down the cramped hallway, squeezing herself through the crowd, yelling for the boys to stop.

"Oh here it is, the end of the shit show where Yui drags Jake away." Yn thought, shifting her attention back to the commotion created by Jake and Jay.

A typical "stop, this is not you moment." But yn found it interesting to see it go down in real life.

She knew at the end of the day, she'd end up feeling bad for Jay who was completely ignored by Yui in the novel. When yn first read that part of the novel, she slightly blamed Yui for just leaving Jay there, saddened by jealousy and the bruises left on his face.

But to Yn's suprise, everything somehow went a different route ever since heeseung had texted her.

Because instead of grabbing Jake's hand, Yui instead grabbed Jay's instead, leaving Jake to stand alone in the crowd.

✰. PREVIOUS / MASTERLIST / NEXT

SYNOPSIS › Shocked by the sudden revelations, yn realizes that she has been pulled into another world belonging to her favourite reverse-harem novel as the female lead’s best friend. Content with her new life, she excitedly watches from the sidelines knowing every single encounter in the novel would be unravelling right in front of her. However, as time goes on, she slowly comes to the horrifying realization that the characters she seemingly idolized are not who they seem to be.

[☆] — author's note: oh em gee an update finally! Sorry for making you guys wait so long ;_; but heeseung?? what's up with the whole "you?" And also yui?? And Jay??? Hmm

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 4

photo credit - @ssa-emilyhotchner​

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader 

warnings - canon typical criminal minds, stalking, angst. pretty tame chapter 

summary - “I’m on a date.” You responded flatly. The other end of the line went silent.

a/n - hi besties. so this chapter is p short compared to the last one, i had like  7k something chapter 4 and it just didnt feel right, BUT that means chapter 5 is basically done i just need to edit it soooooooooooo hopefully wont take a long time lol! enjoy, heart yall forever 

masterlist // series masterlist // read it on ao3 

chapter 3 / chapter 5 

-----

The rest of the team was left in various levels of shock. Everyone was struggling to process the bomb of information that had just been revealed. With hindsight, it was easy to connect the strange levels of tension and intimacy that radiated between you and Hotch. What was more difficult to swallow, was the new understanding that Hotch had been keeping this secret for nearly five years. Random ‘trips’ that Hotch would take out of state or the subtle sprinkles of wealth showing up in the form of gifts suddenly made sense. 

This was completely uncharted territory for the entire team. Given Hotch’s history, it wasn’t too difficult to understand how protective he may be of any relationships post-Haley; but the magnitude of your relationship- both in terms of your status as well as length-, and the withholding of information even on the case was a different form of betrayal that couldn’t be kicked under the rug. 

Hotch had always been one of the fiercest advocates for unity, truth and an equal playing field when it came to information concerning a case,- Morgan was still feeling second hand embarrassment for Jordan- for him to be the one to hold back such influential info was difficult to fully wrap their heads around. Anger, of course, was felt and there would certainly be time for that anger- not even getting started on the amount of questions everyone was bound to have-, but as the team was silently processing, they all reached similar conclusions. Hotch was displaying a softness and side of him they hadn’t seen in a very long time and they wouldn’t let their valid frustrations get in the way of solving this case. 

Morgan was the first to speak, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I need to text Garcia about this.” He said, shaking the phone a bit. Everyone managed to laugh at that, all certain that Garcia would have the most interesting reaction to the news.  

“You know…, the other day when she was giving me a tour of her house, I pointed out a bottle of Dalmore 25 she had on the wall. She got really weird about it and I thought she was trying to play modest, but this, this makes a lot more sense.” JJ remarked lightheartedly. 

“So now we know Hotch has some game then, huh?” Morgan quipped, a large grin on his face. When everyone just stared blankly back at him, even more confused than they already were he continued. “Do you all not remember when he ‘magically’ got a bottle of Dalmore 45, those start at twelve grand” 

Reid was about to open his mouth and add to the conversation, but just as the words were leaving his mouth Hotch stormed back into the conference room. One hand was tightly balled in a fist while the other was gripping his phone. 

“She’s not answering her phone. Three times, it went straight to voicemail.” 

“She isn’t on set today, when she left this morning she told me she had work related errands to run.” Emily recounted, racking her brain for any more info about your whereabouts. 

Hotch strode over to an open laptop at the edge of the table, quickly hitting a series of buttons until a very flustered Garcia appeared on screen; her mouth dropping open when she saw Hotch. 

“Questions later Garcia,” Hotch opened, already anticipating that someone Derek would have informed her of the latest news, “I need you to track Y/N. I want her current and last location.” 

“Yes sir! I uh, I will do that right now for you.” Garcia responded, clearly doing her best to hold back the hoard of questions and comments she had. The sound of her vigorously typing filled the room. “Alright sir, so the bad news is that it looks like her phone is currently turned off, but! The last place it pinged at was outside of Chateau Marmont about three hours ago. Which for those of you who don’t know this place is notorious for being the A-lister hideaway-” 

“Garcia, do a wide search for her name and location for today’s date. Check to see if there’s been any media sightings on her whereabouts.” Hotch ordered. He hadn’t forgotten how uneasy it had made him once he found out how easy it was to locate you. Paparazzi were a different form of ruthless and he’d never realized how difficult it actually was for people in the spotlight until he met you. 

“Let me see…, yes sir you are right! I’m getting a bunch of hits of her entering the-” Garcia’s sentence falling off with an ‘oh’. 

“Garcia, what’d you find?” 

A headline popped up on the screen. 

“Emma Co-Stars Pictured Together Out At Lunch: Has The Love Moved Past The Screen?” 

Underneath, multiple photos of you quickly loaded. There you were, cheerily standing next to your co-star, looking up at him with a big grin on your face. The photos showed the two of you in different positions as you made your way inside. A few of him as he opened the car door for you. One of you with your arm wrapped loosely around his while you walked up the door. One of you ducking under his arm as you entered the restaurant. 

The tension in the room was palpable as everyone did their own mini attempt at profiling the photo. It was difficult, you’d clearly proven to be a great actress and they knew you were capable of manipulating your outward emotions. It was even more difficult considering it was just a handful of mediocre quality photos. 

Hotch was tightly gripping the edge of the table, forcing himself to keep a level head. He knew it was unreasonable to get angry over the idea of you with another man, but it didn’t help the pang in his heart as he recognized the genuine signs of happiness you were emitting. 

“JJ,” Hotch said, voice dangerously calm, “call the restaurant and have them discreetly tell Y/N that ‘Andi’ is calling her.” Discretion was the highest priority for him, the envelope being even further confirmation that the unsub was closely trailing you. The last thing he wanted to do was either trigger a violent reaction or cause him to go underground.

Back when the two of you had been together, out of an abundance of caution, you used to refer to Aaron as ‘Andi’ in public. You hated not being able to thank him in speeches or mention him in any capacity, so this had been your best way around it. 

“Yes sir.” JJ responded, quickly moving out of the room to make the phone call. 

“Garcia, do you have any leads on the kid that dropped off the envelope?” Hotch asked. 

“No sir. The car he left in was reported stolen a few days ago with no leads as to where it went. Camera feeds loose the car about three blocks away and his face was too obstructed to get any hits that way.” 

“Alright, once JJ comes back with confirmation Y/N’s gotten the message, I’m going to pick her up. I want the rest of you to work with Garcia and categorize these photos. Cross reference whatever you can to get a timeline.” Hotch ordered, the rest of the team not being to be told twice. 

-----

“Where the hell are you?” Aaron demanded. 

Even through the phone, you could tell he was absolutely seething. It was bad, by the time you had picked up the phone you’d amassed a total of twenty texts and nearly ten missed calls from Aaron; not even mentioning the individual missed calls you had from each member of the team. It was bad, but in your defense it had been less than an hour from the first missed call to your current response. 

What could you say? You were big on not being on your phone when you were spending time with friends. 

“What do you mean, where the hell am I,” you answered, rolling your eyes as you leaned up against one of the private bathroom countertops. “How did you describe it before Agent? I’m very in ‘demand’.”

You could hear him groan through the phone and wondered if he was running his hands over his face; something he used to always do when you were being difficult; he absolutely was. 

“Y/N-” 

“I’m on a date.” You responded flatly. The other end of the line went silent. As you were debating whether or not you should add the part about it being a publicity date, Aaron’s voice came through. 

“End it. I’m picking you up. The drive there from the station shouldn’t be more than 30 minutes.” Aaron said, his voice dangerously even. 

“I’m perfectly capable of getting back to the station on my own Agent. I don’t need you stirring up an absolute scene-”

“Y/N,” he started, voice commanding in a way that told you he was serious, “a package was delivered to the station today. Filled with hundreds of photos of you over the years,” he paused again and you could hear him take a deep breath before continuing, “there’s photos of us in there. The unsub knows.” 

You went silent, mouth opening over and over, unable to find anything to say. You had always envisioned a world where you and Aaron were some sort of ‘public’ knowledge, but never like this, obviously never like this. 

“Y/N, I need to come get you,” Hotch said, his voice much softer now, “I can’t-, I need to see that you’re safe.” 

“I’ll make something up,” You said quickly, before adding, “there’s a private valet area, I’ll send you the instructions to get past the gates and I’ll let the security know you’re coming to pick me up.” 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, don’t draw any attention to yourself.” And with that he hung up, leaving you stunned in the bathroom. You gripped the edges of the counter, staring at yourself in the mirror. You wished you could stay in the bathroom for hours, desperately needing some time to privately process what Aaron had told you. 

That wasn’t in the cards for you though, so you quickly did some pointless attempts at ‘straightening’ your appearance- more for your benefit than anything else- before you turned the lock and left back for your table 

You slipped back into your seat across from your friend and co-star Johnny. 

“Your friend alright?” Johnny asked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said with a small smile, “she’s fine. But my Agent called me when I was in there, she apparently managed to set up some last minute FBI consult to help me prep for an audition I have coming up. According to her, she ‘pulled a lot of strings for this’.” You said, rolling your eyes. The lie sliding out of your mouth with ease. “Whoever this FBI dude is, is supposed to come pick me up right about,” you looked down at your phone, “now apparently. So I guess our little date has to end early.” You said, giving him an exaggerated sad pout. 

Johnny rolled his eyes at that, giving you a small laugh. The two of you were both equally uninterested, romantically, in each other. But you did get along quite well, so being ‘forced’ into hanging out with each other outside of filming wasn’t bad; you’d probably hang out outside of filming anyway 

“No worries, we still on for running lines later tonight?” He asked. 

You thought for a moment, before nodding. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Now, help me flag down the waiter, I want to get one last drink in before I go.” 

-----

About twenty minutes later you found yourself waiting out in the private courtyard of the restaurant. You were doing your best to calm your nerves, this being the first opportunity you had to try and process what Aaron had told you. You should’ve seen it coming, if the stalker was so obsessed with you, he must’ve noticed Aaron in your life at some point. But you had been so careful. 

Then the other obvious thing hit you. His team knew. You were wondering how the team had taken the news when you saw the black SUV come into view. Aaron quickly stopped the car in front of you and before you could move to open the passenger door yourself, he was out of his seat in a flash, coming over to where you were standing. 

For a moment you were both silent. You felt tiny under his unrelenting gaze, his eyes scanning your entire being as he ensured himself you were okay. 

Without thinking, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist, ensnaring his arms tight to his side. As soon you realized what you did, you were internally kicking yourself, moving to loosen your arms nearly as fast as you had put them there.

“Aaron I-” 

Before you could finish your attempted apology, Aaron had pulled his arms from under yours and repositioned them around you, pulling you tightly against him. Your head naturally fit perfectly under his and you took in a deep breath, letting his scent surround you. It was cliche, but you both were thinking about how perfectly your bodies melded against each other.  

You felt his hand rest gently on the back of your head, gently stroking down your hair in a steady rhythm. “I got you.” He whispered, so quiet you nearly didn’t hear it. 

You pulled your head back so you could look up at him. “I’m scared.” You said, admitting it aloud for the first time.  

Aaron was staring hard down at you, his face soft. “I know,” he started, moving a piece of hair away from your face, “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, okay?” 

You nodded at that, missing his warmth when he started to pull away from you. He kept a protective hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the passenger seat. He opened the door and helped you in, gently shutting the door behind you. As soon as your door was shut he wasted no time in getting in the driver's seat, starting the car up again. With a quick check to make sure your seatbelt clicked was in, Aaron peeled out of the parking lot. 

A few floors above the courtyard, in one of the private hotel rooms, a curtain was angrily thrown shut. 

-----

taglist - @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yallgotkik @sunflowersandotherthings @averyhotchner @kimmy-k-k @uwu-sebastianstan

a/n- if youve asked to be on the taglist and dont see urself, please send another message! im really bad about putting people on my tag document lol, even if ive like responded in tumblr!!

no permission is given to copy or republish my writing on any other platform or account. if you see this story outside of my blog or my ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own nor claim to own criminal minds or any of the character involved in it.

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: ii

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 1   ||   chapter 3   ||   chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You and Hawks’s second meeting.

warnings: mutual pining, shy reader-ish, ooc hawks, the fun stuff, fluff ; ) 

|||||||||||||

You didn’t hear anything from Hawks for the next few days. 

It was a fleeting disappointment, but you took his lack of contact as truth and reality. Some big shot, pro-hero wasn’t going to waste time texting a no-name, nobody barista, no matter how mutually flirty of an interaction was shared. 

Prior to actually meeting Hawks, you had seen the tabloids that his name spilled over. Shady stories of midnight rendezvous with models and celebrities, sultry pictures of his own on magazines at grocery store checkouts were a lot of your knowledge of him. He was a very eligible and active bachelor, everyone knew it. 

You reminded yourself that you didn’t mean shit to him, and moved on.

Until about a week from your first meeting, late into the evening, your phone buzzed.

You thought it was one of the team from the teashop, asking another question about a new blend you had made. 

Your eyes widened at the text that you did see:

 [unknown number]: hey angel ;) do you work tomorrow? it’s supposed to be a cold one and i’d love to try another one of your drinks

 You stared at your phone screen for a moment, mouth going dry before typing out a reply. 

 [you]: is this hawks?

 The next reply came only seconds later.

 [unknown number]: the one and only ;))))

  He... actually texted me?

Holy shit.

Another message came in. 

 [unknown number]: don’t tell me you go handing out your number to folks at work all the time :^( you’re gonna hurt my :^((( feelings :^((((

 You deadpanned at Hawks’s texts. 

You couldn’t believe the number two, pro hero texted like a normal twenty-some year old.

It was endearing, if not at the very least comforting.

 [you]: nah, just you tailfeathers 😉

[you]: i work tomorrow morning, opening shift. 6 am. think you can handle it???

 You giggled at your own texts, unable to hold back when you saw Hawks continuing to type. You quickly typed in a contact name.

 [tailfeathers]: E

[tailfeathers]: Z

[tailfeathers]: i’ll be there bright and early ;)

 Part of you, the rational, realistic part, doubted that. Sure, Hawks had texted you, but he wouldn’t actually show, right? He was a busy, busy man. He’d probably get sidetracked.

Don’t get your hopes up. 

 You tried to remain practical.

But, you also liked pushing your luck.

 [you]: see u then!!

[you]: btw your contact name is ‘tailfeathers’ 

[you]: ;)

 [tailfeathers]: what if i told you yours is ‘barista angel’

 [you]: i’d ask if you saw my name on that conveniently small piece of paper i gave you

 [tailfeathers]: i would say yes

[tailfeathers]: but idk angel seems like a more proper title for u 

You felt your still and heat rush to your face. 

He can’t be flirting with you over text. What the FUCK.

 [tailfeathers]: only angels can make coffee as well as u 😇

 “What a bastard,” You shook your head, sighing. Part of you was glad he made it more clear your identity was tied to coffee and not affections. 

 [you]: u flatter me

 [tailfeathers]: i only speak the truth ;)

 You bit your lip as you typed out the next reply, well aware that the evening sky had darkened and you needed an adequate amount of sleep to actually make it to that morning shift. 

 [you]: i’m about to knock out so i can actually be alive for my shift, but i’ll see you tomorrow bird boy

 Hawks’s replied quickly as seemed to be a trend with him. 

 [tailfeathers]: bird boy!!!!! 

[tailfeathers]: i’m moving up in the world

[tailfeathers]: see u then angel 

 As you got ready for bed, going about your mundane routine and preparing the coming day, you had no idea that Keigo was across the city, cradling his phone to his chest with a wobbling smile on his face, a foreign sensation filling his chest. 

He was very excited to see you again, even if it took a few days to get that far.

 |||||||||||||||||||

 The next day was indeed, terribly cold. Despite bundling up in a thick, woolen coat and a knit scarf, you nearly froze on the way to work. Despite the chill, the rest of the morning crew made it in just a few minutes after you.

“I’ll be in back until there’s a rush, alright?” You called to the three openers, all silly college students from the local university. They were all sort of dense, but they were loveable.

“Okay!” One smiled as they flitted to the front counter and seating area.

The back of the teashop was a smaller commercial kitchen, all steel tables and cooking implements. Lots of tools to actually do your job. Though you were the maker of the tea blends for the shop, a lot of your work consisted of packaging and fulfilling orders as well as design work for the teashop’s online presence. Truthfully, you were more of a jack-of-all-trades type of worker, but nearly all of it confined you to the safety of the back kitchen. The lack of stimuli made it easier to work effectively, quirk activated or otherwise.

You tied your apron tight around your waist, adjusting a few of your buttons and smoothing yourself down. The back remained frigid in the mornings, and you could only be glad you were layered up for the day. You pulled out your company-issued tablet and began tapping away with the stylus as the shop prepped to open.

You were too absorbed in your work to hear the bell at the entrance, just minutes after unlocking the door. 

 Keigo? Elated. His last week of hero work had been all long hours and late nights. His wings had grown sparse with overuse, barely carrying him properly through the skies. When he saw that his office day at his agency was due to be particularly cold, he knew it was the perfect excuse to give you a visit.

You hadn’t been constantly on his mind. Rather, you perked up in his thoughts semi-reliably, but briefly a few times a day. Most affections were forgettable, he didn’t have time for anything other than whorish trysts with other heroes and those of higher society who knew how to keep their mouths (somewhat) shut. 

Part of him, the part that the Commission’s ruthless training created, hated the way how you were sticking with him.

Another part of him, the kinder, softer, very repressed one, recognized his feelings and hid them safely. Vulnerable things required heavy protection.

 When Keigo reached the teashop, early as dawn crept over the urbanscape, he pushed the door open and was greeted by the rolling smell of roasted coffee beans and black tea.

Only a few other patrons were there, eyes wide as the top ten hero gave them a trademark wave, waltzing to the counter with his signature swagger.

The workers (none of them being you) gawked at him, jaws half to the floor.

“Hawks?!” One of them exclaimed. “Oh my god, can I get an autograph?!”

 (Keigo carried a few pens on him for occasions like this.)

 The worker, a young thing with a shock of short blue hair, wrestled under the counter for a notebook. Another of the workers also attempted to wrangle a bit of receipt paper from the fussy machine, flashing him a nervous smile.

“Of course, autographs are a given,” He winked at the two of them, sauntering up to the counter. “On one condition, though. Could you tell me if (Y/N) is working?”

The morning shifts workers proceeded to gawk more. 

 You sat deep in concentration, thoroughly organizing yourself for the day with lists and plans. You were only startled from your work when one of the other baristas popped her head back, eyes wide. 

“Uh, (Y/N), I know you’re busy, but Hawks is here for you?” She stammered, saying his name incredulously and pointing a shaking finger out at the counter.

You could hear his silky laugh just beyond the precipice. 

Your mouth quirked up in surprise. 

I didn’t expect him to actually come.

It was a pleasant surprise though, one that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You put down the tablet, making your way to the front of the shop.

Hawks leaned down on the front counter, signing various papers and items that the staff and patrons of the tea shop had given him. His smooth voice echoed beautifully around the shop, mixing with the din of the soft music that provided ambient sound. 

Thoroughly absorbed in his fan interaction, you leaned against the door frame, watching him as he had yet to notice you.

(You tried to look nonchalant, but it was probably a bit of ogling.)

Hawks’s scarlet wings appeared sparse, but still twitched and fluffed every few moments. He was dressed in his hero uniform, visor pushed up into the feathery, front bits of his hair. With all of his typical regalia on, he seemed out of place in the slow din of the coffee shop. He seemed to shine so brightly, making himself a focal point without even trying. 

Without the protection of his visor, Hawks’ honeyed eyes seemed brighter, luminous from the inside out. Even from your distance, you could watch their topazine shine dance in the soft lighting. 

His gaze drifted to you and positively lit up. 

(You didn’t think that was possible.)  

Your stomach fluttered.

“Well, if it isn’t (Y/N)!” Hawks beamed you a smile that could’ve put the sun to shame. It made something deep in your chest thrum. “For a minute there, I thought you’d pulled my leg about working today.”

“Oh, never, ” You grinned, moving directly in front of him at the counter, your shocked coworkers parting for you. “I tend to work in the back if the rest of our lovely staff is present.

You gestured to your very starstruck coworkers who all gave various gawking looks before falling away, shyness obviously overtaking them. 

It wasn’t like you weren’t feeling similarly, but your nervousness was better hidden. Facades were, in fact, a trained skill in maintaining and god, if you weren’t a master.

But, Keigo had his own mastery in spotting cracks in people’s veneers. And, easily, he saw your tension and nervousness. For anyone with less trained interpersonal skills, they wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing. But to Keigo? Your anxiety was as clear as the light you added to a room. A few of his feathers twitched, picking up on the rapid beating of your heart across from him. 

“What can I get you?” You asked, speaking through any of your fears, cracking him a genuine smile.

Keigo returned it without thought, chest warming.

“Mmm... Surprise me. Something to help me get my day started.” Keigo loved the way your eyes lit up when he talked, a little bit of knowingness between the two of you sparking. 

“Same specifications as before? Hot and sweet?” You asked, already grabbing a cup, flashing him a cheeky grin. 

Hawks raised an eyebrow, batting his eyelashes at you in a way that you couldn’t not laugh. He rested his elbows on the counter and leaned over the top of it, regarding you with half-lidded eyes, “You remember my preferences? I feel honored.”

“You should,” You winked. If he was going to shamelessly flirt, you would right back. 

 Truthfully, your personal attention made Keigo swoon like a goddamn schoolgirl. He could feel sweat growing on his palms, making the leather of his gloves stick. Normally, the sensation would’ve ticked his more anxiety-ridden tendencies into overdrive, but he could hardly focus on them. He was too busy watching you flit around behind the counter.

 “So,” You began, activating your quirk and beginning your process. “Why so few feathers? Get roughed up?”

Keigo chuckled, flexing what feathers he did have left for emphasis, “Basically. I have to give them a few days to regrow. A couple nasty days in a row means a couple days recovery.”

You hummed, turning to the espresso machine. Before pouring the shot, you gave him a little smile with the cutest quirk in your lips, “I’m sure you more than deserve the rest.”

 Oh, that made his proverbial dick swell.

Someone, a very nice, stranger barista, angel, telling him he deserved something kind? And, there wasn’t an edge of dishonesty in you. If anything, there was an earnestness in your quirk-blackened eyes that made Keigo nearly scared of the amount of vulnerability you gave him so freely.

He wondered if you showed that to all of your patrons. 

(You didn’t.) 

 You turned behind the counter, quirk activated and swirling. The familiar blending of your senses made your teeth ache and head burn with the overabundance of stimuli, but you worked through it. You reached through the external sensations to manifest your idea and feeling into a conceivable reality. 

You dumped any number of syrups and shots into the cup, placing it (and a lid) on the counter in front of Hawks. Warm smells of cardamom and cinnamon tickled both of your noses as you nodded down, “Let that cool for a sec, then give it a taste. I need a comprehensive review.”

Hawks plucked off one of his gloves, taking the steaming cup in his hand, looking down at the foam. His gaze flickered around the two of you, noting that the few civilians and coworkers once surrounding him had left you two with a small bit of privacy.

“What’s the inspiration for this one?” Hawks gave you a downright sweet, knowing look.

“Take a sip and guess,” You nodded down to the cup again, idly going to wipe down the counters with a rag slung in your apron.

Hawks blew on steaming liquid, throwing back his head to take a decently sized sip. You had to tear your gaze from the bob of his throat. 

  Keep it in your pants. 

 While you were suppressing being horny for the number two hero, Keigo was suppressing being horny for a fucking beverage. 

The flavor hit his tongue and throat and danced. It was warm, like the last one, spilling hearth-like heat into his chest and extremities. But, this drink tasted literally spiced, like it had some sort of pepper in it (according to Keigo’s untrained, pitiful palette). His wings ruffled, feathers rustling and twitching with the taste of the drink. Despite the heat flooding his body, the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rose as waves of subtle pleasure rolled through Keigo’s body. 

He placed the cup back on the counter, staring you down with incredulity.

You, cutely cheeky as ever, just smiled and crossed your arms over your chest, “Are you a fan?”

“It’s... spicy. How. Why. Is this even coffee?” Hawks asked. Despite his questioning, he took another sip, shuddering at the comforting heat it gave him. 

“There’s coffee in it, or, espresso,” You couldn’t help feeling a bit smitten with the way Hawks looked at you. Disbelief wasn’t an expression you saw many heroes wear, especially not one with a reputation like Hawks’s. Yet, there he was, in front of you, staring at his cup like you just served him battery acid and grass. 

“If that’s the case, gimme the rundown, angel,” Hawks peeled off his other glove, setting the pair on the counter. He surprised you as he shrugged off his lined jacket, plopping down in a nearby stool.

You hadn’t ever really seen this much of Hawks, not in his hero uniform anyways. Plenty of him was available for viewing due to his various modeling ventures, but seeing him in the flesh was far better. The black shirt of his hero costume stretched over the lean, sculpted muscles of his arms. He certainly wasn’t built in the same way other top heroes were, but from what you could see (read: drool over), Hawks certainly wasn’t lacking—

“See something you like?” Hawks raised an eyebrow while taking another sip,  devilish curl to his lips.

You really wished you had the bodily control to stop the red flush that grew on your face.

“SO —!” You laughed, diverting back to the drink at hand. “The drink.”

“Wonderful deflection,” Hawks set the cup down, still smirking. “So, the drink .”

Your fingers tapped at the countertop, living your blush down with a lack of eye contact. 

  He gets stared at all the time, chill out. 

Dude probably likes it, (Y/N).

 “The drink is a dirty chai, with some editions, of course.” You jerked your head back to the wall of tea blends, the familiar ebbing away from of your embarrassment. “We have a couple of different chai blends that I make in house. Several different chai concentrates too.”

“Forgive me, but a dirty chai?” Hawks teased.

“Wow, weak jab there, Hawks, ” You rolled your eyes. Hawks just continued to beam at you, swinging his legs behind the counter. “I gave you an oatmilk,  ginger chai with three shots of espresso and a few other secret touches. I wanted to make it warm again for you.”

 Keigo paused at your admission, (not-so) secretly reveling in your poorly contained embarrassment. Perhaps it was a bit cruel, but his job did carry some wonderful perks and he’d be damned to not enjoy them. 

“It feels like a different kind of warm, compared to last time,” Keigo took another taste to confirm. The spiced liquid flooded his palette again, skin pleasantly prickling at the taste. 

 You hummed, refusing to fully make eye contact with Hawks. 

Truthfully, you spent an embarrassing amount of time since the night prior thinking about potential sensations to emulate for Hawks. You were never sure of what type of vibe he would request, but having an arsenal of ideas made you feel more prepared to impress your new clientele. 

“I made it feel like dawn,” You replied, nodding to out of the fully-windowed front of the tea shop. The district you were located in was lit up by the golds and pinks of the early morning, stretching and awakening with the new day. “I wanted it to feel like how morning sun feels on your bare skin. All like... tingly, you know? Like... seeing someone you haven't seen in a long time. ”

 Keigo immediately noticed your bashfulness after you gave your description. In the same way as last time, the vulnerability of your manifested feelings left you warm and shy for him. 

You picked at a loose string on your apron, gaze directed down and away.  With his obscured view of your face, he could see the way you softly bit your lip, eyes occasionally raking him up and down and that retreating. Keigo could feel your pounding heart and slow, deep breaths. 

...

Keigo was whipped and he hardly knew you. He was so fucked.

You were too fucking cute. It was fucking illegal. It had to be. 

Keigo had been with sexy. He’d been with unattainable. He’d been with women and men who looked like they were crafted by gods as tempters and devils. It was all pleasure and Keigo knew it like the back of his hand. He got hedonistic bliss when he wanted it and he did so very, very well.

What Keigo was entirely unfamiliar with was the gooey, fluttery feeling in his chest as you finally looked up at him to smile and nod to the drink, “So, what do you think?”

Keigo’s brain fizzled, rendered into goo. If he didn’t have years of interpersonal training, he was sure he wouldn’t have been able to speak with his own revelations. Luckily, he was able to laugh off his internal stickiness, taking another greedy sip.

“Absolutely flawless, wonderful craftsmanship, (Y/N),” Keigo bowed his head dramatically. 

 You giggled at Keigo’s drama, missing the way how his cheeks lit up for you. 

Hawks dug in his pocket, pulling out a huge wad of bills and started to slide it across the counter, “This is a tip. All for you.”

You stared, horrified at the amount of money Hawks passed to you like it was nothing. Without thinking, you placed your hand on top of his, stopping his motion. Both of you stiffened pleasantly at the sudden, small contact. 

“That’s too much, Hawks, no,” You shook your head, but Hawks was a stubborn, insistent bastard. 

His wings fluffed up behind him, a feather moving quickly between your hands and pushing your up and away.

“What the fuck.” You half-groaned. Hawks fully passed the money across the counter, hiding his hands and feathers in his lap with a Panish smirk stretched across his face.

“Take it, or I tattle on you, easy trade,” Hawks shrugged, leaning his elbows on the counter and drinking deeply. He pulled away from his beverage with a relaxed-looking smile as you remained fluster.

(Holy fuck, you touched Hawks’s bare hand and it was so NICE—)

You could feel the eyes of your coworkers, staring at the money like some Olympic medal. You were well-aware that there was no way Hawks was taking back his money and you knew your coworkers would be too scared to ask for a cut. 

You gulped, taking the cash and tucking it into your apron pocket.

“You don’t need to bribe me to make you nice drinks, Hawks, it’s literally my job,” You told him gently.

Hawks raised an eyebrow, shrugging, “Accept it as a little treat on the side. A gift of my appreciation.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you relented with a smile, shaking your head. 

And the two of your dissolved into easy conversation. Hawks told you about the most recent gigs he had been a part of. A modeling contract for a new skincare company and a sponsorship with a few other local heroes for a sports beverage were the most interesting. You were sure he was just humoring you, unable to tell you the nitty-gritty details of his life. Yet, he seemed happy to speak and listen besides. He chattered away, in the way birds do, sing-song, and free-flowing. 

Hawks was hardly a bird of prey, you realized. He was much more of a cockatoo type. 

You told him more about the tea shop, about your role and job. As you explained about the basics of different types of tea, you could literally see the far off way Hawks looked at you. It wasn’t of distraction, like spacing out, no. It was a look that hadn’t been directed at you in some time. You silently and quickly studied it and came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that the cute blush on his cheeks and half-lidded eyes and relaxed shoulders was fucking captivation, borderline adoration.

For.

You.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with that?

(Keigo wasn’t sure either.)

 Luckily, neither of you planned on doing anything to stop your mutually budding feelings.  

[fuwahiko]

...imagine a Non-Despair or Pre-Despair Kuzuhina scenario where Hajime gets into a huge fight with his parents (most likely about Hope's Peak in some way) and after a few days to a week of shutting out his friends and boyfriend in class 77, he finally goes to them for comfort and just breaks down from stress and bottled up emotions.

(No I'm not projecting onto Hajime what are you talking about thats cRAZY-)

Hurt/Comfort is my specialty what can i say.

uh oh time for hajime to suffer again

so.

hajime's parents are those like, really shitty parents that see their kids as someone to live vicariously through rather than valuing them as people. they hold him to high standards that get more ridiculous as he gets older.

his and his parents' goals happened to align well when it came to hope's peak; hajime always admired the school and his parents insisted he go to a good school so that he could get the best education he possibly could - because they wouldn't be satisfied with any less than that.

they were content for a while and happy to pay hajime's tuition fees, but his parents' contentment was only ever temporary. one day they called hajime to the living room for a 'talk'. they'd decided they weren't happy enough with hajime just keeping up with the rest of the class, oh no, he had to be the top of the class. hajime kept up with school work just fine and did pretty well of the tests too, about average in his class, nothing to brag about but certainly nothing to be ashamed of or anything - but for his parents average wasn't going to cut it anymore.

so they told hajime he would have to be in the top five highest scorers on his upcoming test or they would stop paying his tuition fees.

of course, this was incredibly upsetting to hajime; he'd always dreamed of going to hope's peak, and now he finally was, and on top of that he had made some amazing friends there and had even met fuyuhiko. the thought of not being able to see them anymore, or at least seeing them way less than he saw them now, was honestly terrifying to him.

and not to mention, what his parents were threatening didn't even make any sense; what good would it do to stop him from going to hope's peak anyway? wouldn't that just go against what they wanted?

he argued with them further and they said if that did happen they would think of something else to have hajime do, suggesting the idea of sending him to some strict teacher that would teach him one on one - someone that would be ruthless and do whatever it takes to make hajime "get his act together", as they put it. that thought was also terrifying.

hajime was already trying hard as it was though. he'd managed to form a healthier relationship with studying at last and he was doing better in the subjects he struggled with most. he was really proud of how far he'd come and how much he'd grown since coming to hope's peak... but whatever he did or whatever he said his parents would never see it the same way.

very quickly his studying grew more intense now, he was studying for much longer and he had less time for the things he enjoyed - less time to relax. but what choice did he have? there was no changing his parents' minds, so all he could do was push and push to get a high score, even if it completely burned him out.

that's how hajime spent his days for a while. he didn't have time to hang out with anyone because he needed to focus on studying. usually he talked with fuyuhiko and the others a lot; they'd text each other often and usually met up at lunch and after school ended, but hajime didn't want to be distracted, and if he had spare time he could be studying. it seemed to be working for maybe a couple of days, but hajime knew deep down he was only going to get burned out... but he pretended like he wouldn't - he told himself he'd make it work somehow.

he couldn't make it work.

so, inevitably, hajime felt that familiar feeling of anxiety and stress building up and consuming him; he was exhausted and his mind was fuzzy - the words on pages in front of him blurring together and making no sense anymore, his eyes just drifting across them without picking up any meaningful information from them. he was tired and drained but his body was buzzing with panic and urgency.

he didn't know what to do, and when hajime didn't know what to do he went to his friends.

it was the late evening now and class had finished hours ago, but he left a message in his group chat with class 77 saying he needed someone to talk to and that he'd be waiting at a park just by the school - somewhere they often hung out.

hajime sat on a bench at the park. the cool fresh air outside usually helped to calm his nerves but was having no effect on him today.

it wasn't long before he heard footsteps approaching him at a fast pace. hajime lifted his head and saw fuyuhiko, ibuki, sonia, nagito, sagishi and mahiru all rushing to him, with chiaki a little ways behind but trying her best to keep up.

they all seemed really worried, even more so because hajime had been so quiet recently. it turned out they had all been wondering what was up with him and discussing how to deal with the situation; they'd decided to give hajime space for a start in case he needed it, but they'd agreed to drop whatever they were doing if he needed them there. they didn't want to overwhelm him though, so only some of them went to meet with him, just in case the whole class would be a bit too much.

this was so much more than hajime had expected though, he never would've guessed half the class would come to him on such short notice like this. they must've been really worried.

mahiru, prepared and sensible as always, pulled a large blanket out of her bag and set it down on the ground opposite the bench as hajime watched with a confused but curious expression. then, one by one, hajime's friends sat down on the blanket, fuyuhiko and sagishi sitting on either side of hajime on the bench, with fuyuhiko gently holding hajime's hand.

fuyuhiko asked hajime to take a deep breath and then asked if he could tell them what was wrong, and hajime began explaining from the beginning the best he could. the more he talked though, the more he got worked up, and as he talked about how scared he was to have to leave all of them he found himself stumbling over his words and breathing rapidly, tears building up and then quickly running down his face, his body shaking.

"hey, hey, hajime. it's okay." fuyuhiko comforted him, running his hand up and down hajime's back to calm him. "there's no way we'd ever let that happen. if they want to stop you going to hope's peak they're gonna have to get through us first."

hajime was calming down a little just from hearing that, but by this point his tears wouldn't stop; it was like all the stress and the pain and the worry was being flushed out all in one go, and all he could do was continue sobbing until it was all out. fuyuhiko slowly pulled him in closer and hajime wrapped his arms around him, crying onto his shoulder. fuyuhiko could feel hajime shaking as he held him back, but after a couple minutes he was becoming more and more still.

"if it comes down to it..." sonia spoke up as hajime relaxed and separated from fuyuhiko a little, returning to holding his hand as he shed his final tears - "...if they will not pay for your tuition then those of us who have the means certainly will. we shall do our upmost to ensure you will be able to continue studying here, as you have every right to do so. isn't that right, fuyuhiko?"

fuyuhiko gave hajime a reassuring smile. "of course. I reckon with a yakuza and a princess and with nagito's lottery money you'd have enough to pay for a hundred hajimes to go to hope's peak" he laughed.

"ibuki will hold a concert! a big concert, better than any concert the world has ever seen! all the money from the tickets sold can go to helping hajime!" ibuki grinned as she leaned forward and used both her hands to hold onto hajime's free hand, shaking it up and down a few times before settling down again. "really." she spoke much more softly now, almost sounding like a different person entirely, "we won't let them stop you from being where you're meant to be." ibuki let go of hajime's hand and sat down again.

nagito was the next to speak: "and if they take you away and force you to study with a private tutor or anything else you don't want, then we'll find where you are and steal you away again." "we'll do it over and over if we have to." mahiru added. "that's right! you know how stubborn we all are, there's no way we'd allow that to happen, not without a fight!" sonia chimed in, one fist in the air and a determined look spread across her face. "what can they do to stop us, anyway? they're just two people. they're older than us, sure, but together we're capable of so much more, as long as we work as a team." sagishi said as they placed a hand on hajime's shoulder for a moment.

hajime had some really amazing friends.

"are you feeling better now?" chiaki asked in a soft voice.

hajime relaxed his shoulders and sat up. "yeah. I'm feeling a lot better now. I... I really appreciate you guys being there for me like this. I didn't expect you all to rush over, and you've all been so... so sweet. I don't know what I did to deserve friends like you."

"dumbass. we're your friends because you're the same. we know you'd do the same for us if we were in trouble, don't sell yourself short." fuyuhiko furrowed his brows and poked hajime's cheek. hajime smiled at him and fuyuhiko smiled back before turning to face the others again.

after another few minutes everyone began heading back - fuyuhiko walking hajime home and insisting on holding his hand the whole way.

hajime didn't want to burden his friends, but knowing they'd be there for him if anything did go wrong made him feel incredibly relieved. he could tell that even if he told them not to help out, they still would. maybe that meant he wasn't such a burden after all.

knowing they cared so much for him, knowing that they valued him as a friend as much as he valued them, made hajime feel invincible.

he'd probably never be good enough for his parents, but to his friends he was someone who couldn't be replaced.

[zee-writes-and-draws]

Truly Important

Summary: A look at some of the more important birthdays that Saw Paing has had, and the one he celebrated right after the tournament.

A/n: It's still July 8th, so I'm on time w/this. Nonetheless, I slept five hours so I apologize for lack of proofreading.

------

The first birthday that Saw Paing truly considers important is his fifth one, the day he gets to start Lethwei training for the very first time. He comes home covered in scratches and bruises and a trickle of blood running down his forehead. His father fusses a little and his ma doesn’t let him up until she bandages every little cut and bruise but nothing can spoil his good mood as Ne Win Paing puts him in a headlock and their little sister congratulates him on the start of his training.

------

Most birthdays to Saw Paing aren’t majorly important beyond the fact that even as a fighter Pa Paing did his best to see every single child on their birthday every year. But some are important because there’s new people in his life, people who aren't’ there, certain benchmarks and events that are important in and of themselves, but are easier to tie to years and dates and celebrations.

Saw Paing’s sixteenth birthday is remembered fondly only because it is one week before he meets his eternal rival for the very first time, a boy named Gaolang Wongsawat.

------

Seventeen. Nothing particularly important. Current youngest brother starts his training that year.

Eighteen. Important solely by the freedom it grants in travelling. Almost all countries recognize eighteen as an age of majority, an age where you can do a lot of things that would be illegal otherwise like go somewhere without an adult’s supervision or rent a car so you have your own transport. Going to places outside of Myanmar and Thailand is the most interesting he’s done in his entire life.

Nineteen. He finally gets a job outside the village. The weapons corporation that hired him is run by an old man and a teenage girl with a vicious streak longer than the destruction radius of the missiles she’s designed. Still, they hired him to safety test things and work to rescue people in afflicted areas, not attack them. It’s Togo Tomari’s brilliant ruthlessness that causes him to end up in the same place as Muteba for a month. Another friendship struck up with someone he’s fought against. A birthday gift of an absolutely gorgeous button-up with twelve patterns and wild color is dropped off at his door that year. Even though the gifter will likely never see it, Saw Paing wears the shirt with pride as often as he can for the next few years.

Twenty. Barely important but it was Gaolang’s eighteenth birthday that year and the time the title ‘God of War’ starts creeping into people’s thoughts about him. Saw Paing cheers his rival on whenever possible.

Twenty-one. Nothing. Little sister asks out crush, dates her for seven months and change before they have to break up because the crush’s family is moving. He and Muteba have each others numbers saved and text between missions.

Twenty-two. He and Ne Win Paing get to fight outside of legal matches for the first time. It’s exhilarating. Their father hugs them both afterwards and tells them how proud he is.

Twenty-three. The first birthday in their family celebrated after Pa Paing passes. It’s somber. Saw Paing would rather have skipped the day entirely if not for how his youngest siblings all seemed determined to follow traditions for at least the illusion of normalcy  and he’s not about to ruin their coping process just because he’s sad. With Ne Win Paing travelling nearly full-time and recovering when he’s home, Saw Paing is the de facto leader of the family and he’s not going to let them down so easily.

That night there’s a card delivered to him by a hassled-looking mail carrier. It’s from Gaolang.

I heard about your father’s death, Saw Paing. My deepest condolences to both you and your family. Take care of yourself. Do what you must to feel more stable.

To anyone else the writing would be cold and impersonal. Saw Paing re-reads it over and over until a drop splashes onto it and the crinkling of paper registers and then he hurriedly folds it and drops it onto the desk in his room so it doesn’t get destroyed.

If in two weeks when they next see each other, Gaolang relents and truly fights Saw Paing for twenty minutes before declaring a defeat form boredom, neither of them acknowledge the change in routine anymore than they acknowledge that Saw Paing’s yelling is more like loud talking and that Gaolang had made an extra plate of his favorite fish seemingly just in case.

------

Twenty-four. Saw Paing meets Sayaka for the very first time that year, a bright and sunshine-sweet teenager who screams out his intro and doesn’t seem to mind that he’s super-loud or that his opponent throws him into the commentators box and nearly crushes her by accident.

When he had apologized she made a joke about it. He made one back. A friendship stronger than any other he’d made was started that day. Sayaka reminds him of his little sisters, friendly and upbeat and ready to take on the world if she has to and come out with a smile, sharp wit and keen mind concealed under a bubbly layer that requires no lying to maintain.

That year his birthday includes a surprise delivery of a completely new set of cookware with a small note attached.

Happy birthday, Saw! Sorry I couldn’t make it, dad scheduled fifty matches for this week alone so I’m not even sleeping, but I hope you like it! See you in May (PS I’m secretly rooting for you!)

That night Saw Paing makes dinner for everyone with said cookware and an unflappable grin on his face.

------

Twenty-five. Nothing.

Twenty-six. His little sister is now formally competing on a near-national level. His brothers, no longer so small but always little in his eyes, work hard to bring in food and water and trade with the local villages and Saw Paing never stops feeling proud of them.

Twenty-seven. More and more fights in the arena. He leaves Tomari’s contracts behind but keeps in touch with Muteba. A chance metal concert allows him to meet Yoshiko, who in turn introduces him to Sawada. Saw Paing mails him several CDs of traditional Burmese music for the other man’s birthday. Gets a collection of ballet remixes in exchange. Listens to the collection every night for weeks and weeks on end until he can whistle half the songs without thinking. Smiles at how many small reminders he has now of the people he cares about.

------

Twenty-eight. The coldest and harshest one yet. Ne Win Paing is not there that year. Everyone’s energy is lower than usual. Saw Paing spends the day mostly taking care of the youngest siblings and visiting the graves of those he’s lost. He can feel the wrongness of this land on his skin, it’s Yoroizuka’s home and that’s better than the alternatives but it is not his home or their home or the home that his family deserved and had grown up in and lost because of Ne Win Paing or maybe because Saw Paing should have noticed sooner, should have caught onto the damage his brother had taken.

Sayaka leaves twenty voicemails and thirty texts, all reassurance and compassion and kindness that Saw Paing is beginning to doubt he deserves. Sawada had arranged for several boxes of their favorite sweets from all over the world to be delivered to his house. Muteba messages him a list of names and places if he needs to fight the emotions out or to talk to a professional specializing in fighters and loss of loved ones and tells him to cherish the rest of his family.

Gaolang visits that evening, sleeplessness evident in his posture and eyebags. It’s rarer and rarer for the two of them to see each other now, between the jobs they both hold and duties they’re bound to. Saw Paing’s first priority will always be his family, just as at the end of the day the Thai God of War is not that but the bodyguard of Prince Rama of Thailand. And yet here they are, sitting next to a firepit just outside a house that was not truly meant for Saw Paing’s family, in a country outside of Gaolang’s own.

“Are you alright?” Gaolang asks him. Saw Paing looks up.

I’ll be fine, he wants to say, thinks instead because even things like talking feel like too much right now. He settles for a nod instead, one that feels too slow and tired to really be him but has to be because who else could he be? Gaolang does not look reassured by this. He sits down next to Saw Paing and talks. That quiet voice, normally at least partially twinged with annoyance and exhaustion, now flows with an undertone of gentle energy. It’s not the fire that Saw Paing usually feels running through his veins. Nor is it Ne Win Paing’s quick fury or Pa Paing’s ruthless confidence.

No, it’s the other kind of energy, the kind that Gaolang always emits though it’s hidden under the day-to-day life’s mundaneness. Gaolang tell him about fights, about what guarding Prince Rama has been like for him, some recipe his parents love and he despises because of how annoyingly spicy it is and how Saw Paing would probably like it. And then he talks about staring into a fire.

“Look,” Gaolang motions at it. “It moves so incredibly, alive and unalive at once.” Saw Paing looks into the fire, watches the moving flames flicker and dance in and out of existence. Next to him, Gaolang smiles.

“It reminds me of you sometimes. The difference is fire burns out. I truly hope you never do.” They sit next to each other, watching for a while until something in Saw Paing’s chest undoes itself, letting some feeling back in. Gaolang notices.

“Tell me about Ne Win Paing,” he asks, shoulder brushing against Saw Paing’s own, warmer than the air around by just enough to be noticeable without feeling too off-balance. And so he does, spilling out every little detail he can remember about his brother and all of the memories that were crafted for as long as he can remember. The sky is light when he finishes, still tired but somehow lighter. That something that had unwound a bit earlier is almost completely gone. He’s still saddened by the loss of one of the greatest people in his life, but things look a little better.

Gaolang leaves then, apologetic but unable to stay. Saw Paing nods at him again to say it’s alright and it must come across sufficiently this time, because Gaolang’s smiling softly as he walks to his car and drives back to his too-loud and too-busy life for such a quiet man and yet a life that couldn’t be anyone else’s.

Saw Paing’s younger siblings are slowly waking up, coming out to check up on him and start their day. He hugs them, feeling his spirit coming back to something normal.

------

Twenty-nine. Still a tad colder than before but mostly better.

Thirty. A year with little occurring beyond the increasing amount of kengan matches and the frequency that he gets to see old friends like Sayaka. The tournament that happens later in the year is undoubtedly something unforgettable that he;ll treasure for the rest of his life. So many new friends made, so many bonds forged and strengthened. He makes it a point to keep correspondence with all of them, even the more quiet ones like Karo and Rei. They clearly need the company if they're quite that quiet.

Thirty-one. He wakes up expecting another birthday that’s rather insignificant. His sisters and brothers in college call and Skype and do whatever else they need to say hello first thing in the morning, yelling through the screen loud enough that he can her the dorm’s complaints through the call. The siblings still at home whether from sentimentality or youth wake him minutes before that by running into his room and wishing a happy birthday to him at the top of their lungs. He’s so proud of their lung training being quite so successful.

He checks his phone after all of the younger siblings hang up out of habit. There’s another twelve messages from various members of the assassin clans he’s befriended, a missed call from Cosmo, a notification about a post from Adam, and an alert of the local post office telling him about several packages that are addressed to him.

On the journey to the post office and back he gets six more calls. As he’s balancing reading a short ‘happy birthday!’ texted to him from Cosmo and a rambly congratulation courtesy of Okubo that is interrupted by an incoming call from either Hanafusa or Yoshizawa, a wonderfully familiar voice calls out.

“Saw! Over here!” Sayaka stands by the edge of the road, looking as red carpet-ready as always, except for the small trolley of boxes and bags she’s keeping from rolling away.

“HEY SAYAKAAAA!!!!!” He yells to her as he runs over. She’s hugging him so there’s no reason not to complete their usual greeting by picking her up and spinning in several circles.

“Happy birthday, Saw!” She laughs as he puts her down. “Sorry I didn’t warn you, but there was a lot of last minute stuff and everyone wanted to send something to you and it was ‘one more thing’ this and ‘oh wait here!’ that, and it’s so great to see you again! Here!” the packages he was holding until two seconds ago are now in Sayaka’s hands, traded for a fancy-looking photo album.

“It’s for you. I wish I could stay, but Retsudo’s been flipping out for six hours and he threatened to send a SAR squad again, but I promise i’ll call this evening, kay? See ya soon, Saw Paing!” She runs to the familiar figures of Takyama and Misasa, waving the whole time they drive away until she’s out of his line of sight. Only tnen does Saw Paing turn his attention to the trolley and the photo album.

Getting everything home requires ignoring messages and calls so his plan to find out what these things are that everyone was so determined to send to him has to wait another hour or so but then he finally has the time to check everything out.

There’s two gorgeous shirts that fit perfectly, bright greens and yellows combining with the soft fabric and reminding him of his old shirt but nicer. This, he knows without even needing to check the card, is a gift that only someone like Muteba would have gotten him. A thick book of various recipes from several different regions in Japan, along with an impressively full binder of leaflet instructions for dishes made in the mountains is sent courtesy of Sekibayashi and Haruo.

A sharp-looking knife that seems to be more familiar with intestines sliding across its blade than vegetables is gifted by the Kures he’d met after Hayami’s rebellion, right next to several ‘free assassination’ coupons Reichii and Fusui must have snuck in as a half-joke and and half-true gift.

Most of the things are actually quite small, just fragile and packaged with an insane amount of cushioning, he realizes. It’s nothing particularly fancy, but they’re all things that will remind him of the senders, be it the scalpel that Hanafusa mailed him with instructions on how to DIY surgery or the old shogi set Kaneda gifts along with a book on most famous shogi strategies played throughout history.

Saw Paing moves everything to where it should be once everything but the photo album has been looked through. The cookbooks go to a specific shelf in the kitchen that no one else can reach. The weapons are hidden in a small box under his bed to avoid any incidents. Muteba’s shirts go onto hangers, Sawada’s fancy candies are set on a plate for eating while looking at this final gift, and then the album is opened.

The first photo makes him smile, a perfect snapshot from one of his earliest fights in the Kengan matches, capturing the moment they had both gone from enemies to friends mid-blow. A date, presumably of when the photo was taken, is written on the border in Sayaka’s neat writing. The second one is of Ne Win Paing from seven years ago. This time, the date is in heavier, blockier writing, not unlike Hollis’s. Saw Paing flips through the album a little more, taking it in. there’s plenty of photos of his various friends, fellow fighters, and even some family from the tournament and before it, but there’s also old photos of his brother and father, and even one of his mother back when she had fought in occasional matches, along with candids of some of the more stoic people. They must have been collected over several months, and not just by Sayaka.

Saw Paing already knows what will happen this evening. Gaolang will come over with some kind of small yet so deeply personal way of also saying happy birthday. Sayaka will call again, most likely throwing a small party in the Katahara house and inviting everyone she can. Rei might stop by and even if he doesn’t, he’ll Skype before the sun sets because he’s a punctual person by both nature and training.

But that’s still hours away, and in the meantime, Saw Paing decides to keep looking at the beautiful snapshots of the past, enjoying the present to it’s fullest.

------

END.

[fictionxo]

Take It - Hyunjin (M)

Genre: Smut idolxfem!reader

Warning: Forceful sex, rough sex, name calling. (Still consensual. Don’t let anyone force you guys into anything) 

Word Count: 1,126

Group: Stray Kids

Synopsis: Fuckboy!Hyunjin is tired of your complaints, so he takes matters into his own hands. 

(A/N: Hyunjin is of age, do not bother. Anyways, I love you guys! And thank you all for being here still! I’ll probably start answering some asks/questions I’ve been getting! 

Requests are still semi closed. If you have an IDEA shoot, but keep the requests down for now my loves.

PPS. Stray Kids Gods Menu hit DIFFERENT. Especially Hyunjin.)

“W-wait, slow down a little..”

A sigh escapes his lips for the thousandth time as he lets up his grip on your throat, bringing his thrusts to an abrupt halt.

“What now? How many times are you going to complain?” 

“All I said was slow down, I didn’t say you had to stop Hyunjin...”

“How do you expect me to keep it up, when all you do is complain (y/n). Either lay there and take it, or go.” He scoffs, running a shaky hand through his blond locks.

Hyunjin has always been the ruthless, hit it or quit it type, and if you don’t want to, the next chick in line will. He’s a fuckboy who carries around his black book. What exactly did you expect? His eyes fixate on his cell phone across the room as it lights up again, most likely another text message.

“Forget it.” 

With a huff, Hyunjin pushes himself off his plush mattress, eyes still trained on his phone. You know what this means. Once he gets his phone, your hopes of occupying his bed for the night are done. It’s either now or never. You’ve wanted this for far too long to just let him walk away. 

You reach out before your brain can even register, gripping his toned arm. His uninterested eyes meet your determined ones. You refuse to let this opportunity pass. Especially knowing he never hits the same pussy twice.

“Please...take me..one more time.” You mutter out, unsure if the words make any difference to him.

Begging is usually a turn off for Hyunjin. In his eyes, you either want it or you don’t. And if you have to beg for him, you’re not worth it. But, the hassle of deciding who he should invite next, is too much for him. 

“Do as I say. Or leav-”

“Okay, okay. Tell me what to do then..” You mutter, growing tired of him not touching you.

Hyunjin pulls free from your grasp, and lightly pushes your thigh as he crawls back onto the silk sheet. You look at him, puzzled. He only rolls his eyes in response, gripping your hips and flipping you onto your stomach in a fluid movement. 

He grips the nape of your neck, shoving your face into his pillows, his lingering cologne hitting you hard. With his free hand, Hyunjin grips your hips roughly, kneading the flesh before pulling your hips upwards to meet his cock.

“Face down, ass up baby girl.” 

Hyunjin shuffles behind you, letting up his grip on your neck. Before you could look back to see what he’s up to, you feel his nose shove into your pussy. Inhaling your womanly scent. You let out a small yelp, before you bite down on his pillow at the vulgar action. 

“God you smell so fucking good.” 

You’re shoved into his pillow again as he wastes no more time. You feel the tip of his cock tease your reddening entrance a few times before he shoves his way in, causing your body to violently lurch forward.

“Ohhh..”

Hyunjin lets out a deep, guttural moan as your pussy swallows his cock whole. 

“You like this dick baby? Huh? Tell me how much you like it.”

You’re unable to respond due to you face being smothered by the pillow. Hyunjin realizes this and moves both his hands to your ass. Your head springs up, gasping for air as he chuckles at you. 

“It’s so good Hyunjin! So good!” You scream out, surely upsetting his neighbors. 

With both of his hands, Hyunjin grips your ass cheeks, pushing them together, and upwards, ultimately tightening you around him. The feeling hurt just a bit, but you’ve never been fucked this good by anyone. A little pain never really hurt anyone.

His skin slaps hard against yours, balls smacking your thighs with such force. Hyunjin brings one hand up, slamming it down against your ass forcing a scream from you. He spanks you a few more times, getting off on the sight of your ass reddening. He suddenly pulls out of you, shooting his hot cum against your back. 

Before you could consider catching your breath, Hyunjin flips you over onto your back, roughly placing your ankles around his shoulders, before shoving back into you. Through hooded, wet eyes, you see his feral expression, staring back at you. 

His bed rocks under the power, gaining speed as he speeds up. You reach up with both hands and grip his luscious locks, pulling him closer to you. The desperation on your face to have those plump lips touch yours becomes overwhelming.

“K-kiss me, fuck! Please!”

You cry out in between thrusts, trying to mentally keep up with him. With a rough gesture, he tosses your legs off him and crashes his lips against yours, teeth gripping at your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth. His cock scrapes your walls, hitting you deep. Your mouth fills with saliva at the pressure, so you take the opportunity to push your saliva into his mouth, swirling it around on his tongue. 

Hyunjin pulls back, brows furrowed as a string of spit still connect you both. He grips your throat, squeezing you until your vision gets blurry. You fight against him, desperate to breath. 

“You’re such a dirty bitch. I fucking love it!” 

Hyunjins orgasm hits him first, bulldozing through him as yours follows seconds after. Only then is when Hyunjin lets up on your throat. The forced air flying down your throat, mixed with your orgasm rushing through you and the final strokes of his violent cock ends up being too much for you. Everything goes to black. Your body convulses in your passed out state. 

Hyunjin takes a moment to catch his breath. Making a note of his cum dripping from your now gaping hole. That was one thing Hyunjin was known for, fucking women to sleep. You didn’t believe it, but now, now you do. 

“Guess she’s here for the night.” Hyunjin mumbles, grabbing the covers from the bottom of the bed and covering you up nicely. He gets up and grabs a bottle of water from his mini fridge by his closet before setting it on the dresser next to your head. 

He plants himself next to your sleeping body, eyes to the ceiling, mentally replaying everything and how he would love to try you in another potion come morning. Something about you, something about how you take it like the good girl you are. Something about how, no matter what, you find yourself drawn to him. You want to be ruined by Hyunjin in ever sense of the word.

Now is just the beginning of being completely ruined by the fuck boy known as Hwang Hyunjin.   

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 7 

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Smut, violence, past flashbacks of sexual assault, and descriptions of torture. Racial hate, and forced abortion. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, past Clint/Laura, and Sam/Sharon. Eventual Clint/Yelena, and rank/Karen.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a young woman, he starts to realize that maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14.

Natasha wanted things to go back to how they were with Steve before the Accords and before her miscarriage. There was a part of her that felt like she was betraying Alexei, Melina, and Yelena by loving Steve, but the other side wanted to retire from the spy life. Wanted to retire from everything. She was tired of the jobs, of keeping secrets from the people she considered family. She didn't even hate Bucky or resent him anymore, unlike Alexei, Yelena, and Melina. She just wanted Steve and the rest of this to go away. She wanted life to feel remotely normal again. She didn't want to lie anymore to any of them. Everyone had been lied too so much. She was only added onto the drama. Natasha ran herself a bath, pouring in her jasmine scented bubble bath, mixing it with the water. She sighed tiredly, trying to settle into the water, when she felt her phone vibrate. As she looked at it, she saw it was a text message from Melina. 'I need to talk to you, Alexei and Yelena tomorrow in Zagreb, Croatia urgently. It's about her!' The text message said cryptically. Natasha felt a sense of dread wash over her at the text. 'I'll need to make an excuse to Steve, Tony, and the others first,' she texted quickly. Melina replied four minutes later. 'We are your family, Natalia, not them!' Melina had messaged back furiously. Natasha closed her in frustration, breaking down in tears at her dilemma.

"Whoever hired that team to assassinate the mystery girl really wants her dead. Tell Barnes and Carter to get a blood sample from her so we can test it for DNA. Maybe she's in the international database," Fury recommended sternly. Everyone nodded but Tony shook his head. "We need to send someone else to watch over Barnes, Fury. I personally believe that he's compromised. His judgement is skewed because he's convinced that this girl might be the dead girl from the files. Who knows what he might have done with her if she was in the Red Room," Tony insisted harshly, causing most of the people to look at him in disapproval. "We can't send Belova or Romanoff? They've been sent on a mission in Zagreb, Croatia to track down a few remaining Flag Smashers. Who else can we send?" Grant asked quietly, his face bruised from his fight with a Flag Smasher during a mission in London, Great Britain. "Send in Steve. He's become really good at working undercover and Bucky trusts him," Sam suggested diplomatically. It couldn't be him, seeing as the Smiling Tiger was in Madripoor. Ross had an expression of disdain, while Tony was cold but grudgingly agreed to the arrangement. "Try not to mess up, Capsicle," Tony said coldly, before walking out of the conference room. Steve sighs a bit before nodding. "I can do that. I'm sure Bucky hasn't gotten super far. I could help him out together."

Morgan Stark was determined to make her daddy happy. He'd been sad ever since Captain America's best friend, Bucky Barnes, had been pardoned by the government and found not guilty at his trial. Her dad had gone into a rage, shouting that Barnes was a monster and anyone on Steve's side was to blame for Thanos winning. So she was going to somehow make him smile again. She was going to build an AI, like he did. She already had a name picked out for him as well. Her dad had explained to her that he had created Ultron to protect the world. Maybe she could do that again, and somehow bring him back to make not only her daddy happy but the world happy. All she knew was that she was tired of hearing him fighting all the time with the Avengers and she wanted to somehow change that. Maybe a new Ultron could do that? She had found his memory core not that long ago. Maybe if she followed his blueprints from years ago…she could, do it? She didn't want any more arguing or yelling…all she wanted was for this to end. So that was that. She was going to do it. One way or another. Daddy had a lab always near him. It would be the perfect time to do it. Maybe they could finally figure out how to end all the fighting. Maybe she'll be the cause of it. Daddy would be happy. They would see they were wrong about him. Somehow.

When Steve had arrived in Madripoor, it looked the same as it always had from before, with bright lights and big neon signs drawing in anyone from a mile away. However, his eyes were more focused on trying to get to Bucky's place. He had talked with Sharon about where to go and she had directed him willingly, leading him towards midtown where a lot of the higher ups in the crime world lived. It was also where the mystery woman lived, apparently. Hopefully they would be able to get through to this quickly. He had knocked on the door, and for a moment there was silence. He had been expecting that, considering Bucky was most certainly not expecting anyone to come by and greet him. But he slowly opened the door, and when he saw it was Steve his eyes widened.

"Where the hell did you come from?" He asks as he lets him in, giving him an embrace. When Steve stepped back, he closes the door behind him, turning to Bucky. "Lot has happened at the base while you were gone," Steve states with a raised brow. "I'm not longer in charge of the Avengers. Ross gave it to Tony." Bucky's brow raises. "You're serious?" "He did. They were upset about our choice in operation of sending you here." Bucky lets out a long sigh, going to sit on the couch at that. "We defended you the best we could, but at the end of the day, they had the last call. Sam suggested I come over here to fill out their needs." Bucky's brow raises once more. "Which are?" "Keep an eye on you." Bucky feels himself groan before standing. "How the hell am I ever going to be an Avenger in their eyes?" He asks, his voice rising a bit in anger. "Everything I do now, even after all the amends and everything I've done, it'll never work…all I want is to prove myself. I know I'm a piece of shit but…I'm fucking trying." "I know you are, Buck," Steve says gently, letting his hands rest on the man's shoulders. "I know you are. And trust me, we all see it. There are some that are just stuck in their ways that I don't believe are going to change soon. Those are the ones that, when they do inevitably open their eyes, they'll see the most change in you." Bucky snorts a bit. "That one of your little political speeches?" he asks. "No," Steve answers, shaking his head. "Trust me, I highly doubt I'm going to be doing much more than you are here. If anything, while I know how to stay undercover, if I get recognized here, it's game over." He gestures to you. "At least with you, not a lot of people know your face. Even this girl doesn't." He glances over at Bucky's hands and notices there seemed to be dried blood on it. "Speaking of that…" Bucky glances down at his hand and feels his cheeks turn red. "It's not on me, I swear – Maria wanted to interrogate the men that came, and she ended up killing them. Turns out they were sent by a woman named Melina Vostokoff. She wants to end the woman for some reason." "Well, we knew about the attack but your…hands?" Bucky sighs a bit. "I went over to help her a couple of days ago after she was attacked. Try and get more info on her. I guess I just didn't clean off all the blood afterwards." He looks up at Steve and shakes his head. "She is a mystery woman…definitely likes to keep her identity a secret." Steve nods before going to sit down next to him. "I want to ask you a question, and just respond the best you can." Bucky nods. "Are you sure that you don't know her from back then?" Bucky sighs, swallowing a bit. "I…feel like I do." He glances back at Steve. "If you saw the way she moves, and what she had – I mean, she's like a carbon copy of Nat but she's ruthless. She even had some of the same weapons. She had to be trained in Red Room…but I can't recall her for the life of me. That's why I'm trying so hard to figure out if she's truly Ana or not. Maria seems like a reasonable name but…don't know." Steve nods quietly. "Didn't you and Nat have a thing back when you were there?" Bucky quietly nods. He didn't like to think about it often. There was so much pain involved in everything there. "Do you think you might have known this girl like that?" "I genuinely can't remember," Bucky answers honestly, glancing at him. "At this point, all I'm looking for is for some way to figure out if she's truly who she says she is. Maybe after I can search more." Steve sighs but nods. "We got a lot of work ahead of us, then."

Natasha had waited patiently, her arms crossed against her chest with Yelena. It seemed it would take hours for Melina and Alexei to arrive, but when they did, it felt like ages. "You two are worse on time than I am, and that's say something," Yelena mutters. "Quiet, you two," Melina states, looking between them. "We have a serious problem, and I believe you two know what it is."

Natasha and Yelena exchange an uneasy glance, as they look at Alexei who thankfully didn't know what was going on. If he found out Melina had been lying to him for all these years then things would get bloody. "Why did you call me here, Melina?" Alexei asked suspiciously. He hadn't aged well, and it was clearly showing. Despite having the Super-Soldier, it was a far weaker version than the one Bucky and Steve had running through their veins. The woman ignored him as she drank from her glass of red wine, her eyes cold and emotionless. Sometimes Natasha wondered if the woman did genuinely care about her and Yelena, like Alexei did, or if she was just using them. "I believe that despite our best efforts to purge the Red Room, it still exists. Over in Madripoor, a young woman killed the Power Broker, before taking over the city. She's killed several people who tried to break the new rules she implemented as some shot way of a moral code. I refused to acknowledge the bitch, and I tried to kill her…but she defeated me," she said sourly, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "What did you do, Melina?" Natasha asked warningly, praying that the woman hadn't compromised Bucky. If she had, then Steve would go ballistic and raise hell if Bucky were hurt. Not to mention the others. Her surrogate mother regarded her with a cold expression that would have terrified anyone else. But she wasn't frightened of her anymore, not after seeing what she was afraid of. "I hired a death squadron to kill the little whore. She won't survive against them," Melina said confidently, causing Natasha to stare at the woman in shock, before her gaze breaks. Fuck. She had enough and was about to leave, when Melina grabbed her right wrist in a tight grip. "Remember where your true loyalties are, Natasha. I don't want you to end up like her…who chose HIM over us," Melina said meaningfully, her grip tight. Natasha nodded coldly, ripping her arm away and started walking back to her car, refusing to be intimidated. 'What have I done, god?' She thought bitterly, climbing into her car, and turning on the heating.

Ana had cleaned up her apartment after she disposed of the bodies. She had dumped Diego's body in Low Town, knowing that someone would post it on the internet. The other three remaining bodies had been dealt with. She hated the Red Room and what they had done to her. but at the very least the teachers knew how to teach all of them in how to dispose of a corpse after killing the individual. She used a luminal torch to see if any bloodstains remained, relieved when she didn't see any. Despite being near people, she desperately wanted a few furry companions. She needed something to keep her company, other than the people she would meet. She wasn't naïve. Ana knew that they would be targets but she wouldn't let anyone hurt them. She was going to ask X-Con Security Consultants if they would be willing to install security at her house. She decided to take a shower and rest up for the night. She wasn't taking any chances now, considering that Melina had tried to kill her twice now. The older woman still thought she was the same, useless, naive, and helpless little girl all those years ago. She sighed heavily as she trudged upstairs, taking off her bloody, filthy clothes and threw them on the floor. There was no salvaging them. She'd burn the clothes tomorrow. She stepped into the en suite bathroom, turning on the hot water, as she looked at herself in the full body mirror. Scars decorated her body, mainly on her chest, her right arm and some were on her back, and left leg.

Bullet wounds, knife wounds and there was a faded scar on her stomach. She touched it hesitantly, feeling a strange sense of heartache and loss for no apparent reason.

Bucky had gone into the Brass Monkey club, taking Steve with him as they saw Sharon was there. She gestured for them to join her, as they went to a table at the back, where they wouldn't be disturbed. "So, I did some asking around and apparently the woman calling herself Maria Kapitonova is using another woman's name. This is the real Maria Kapitonova. And she's been dead for the last six years, Bucky and Steve." Sharon explained grimly, showing them a photo of a young woman with red hair, brown eyes, and a scar on her throat. Bucky had known that the woman was using a false identity, but this just proved it. Deep down, he knew that she closely resembled Anastasia. Maybe they were related? "So, she's using the identity of a dead woman whose been dead for the last six years. What else have you got, Sharon?" Steve asked intrigued. They were finally getting a fresh lead. "Yeah, I was hoping you'd ask me that question. I did some digging, and Fury emailed me these files that he and Hill found at an abandoned HYDRA base in Voronezh, Voronezh Oblast. Turns out, HYDRA and the Red Room were both working closely together on a project," she said meaningfully. "Something we should talk about elsewhere." Bucky and Steve got her point and left with her to go to her house, leaving behind the bar. Once they arrived, Sharon continued from where she left off, and handed them copies of the files, closing the door behind her. "The Red Room and HYDRA discovered that the girls at the Red Room who had the Super-Soldier serum were far more able to carry a child of the Winter Soldiers. There are lists of names who were chosen for the program. The project began in the 1990′s, and a lot of the pregnancies resulted in the women dying from complications due to the babies developing quicker than a normal baby," Sharon explained gravely as Bucky read the file. He recognized a few of the names, but felt his blood run cold when his eyes drifted to two familiar names. 'Red Guardian and Black Widow - viable pregnancy. Scans confirm that Vostokoff is carrying twin daughters. No complications detected so far into the pregnancy. Vostokoff has confirmed that she has suffered no cramping, or any sign of miscarriage.' "Holy shit, Steve. What if Alexei and Melina were the parents of Anastasia and her twin sister?" He asked quietly. Steve's expression was of grimness and concern. "That's more than likely, but Natasha never mentioned that Alexei and Melina had kids," Steve said hesitantly. Bucky knew the man didn't want to think Natasha had lied to him again. "There's more. On the second page, according to Dr Lyudmila Kudrin, only three women survived carrying the pregnancies to full term. Vostokoff ended up giving birth on June 18, 1995. It says here that she delivered two twin girls," Sharon said wearily, causing Bucky to frown. Bucky read more of the file, feeling his stomach roll in disgust, seeing that the project had been a partial success. They had put the project on hold in order to try and create more of the Super-Soldier Serum. He felt a cold sensation run down his spine, as he thought of Ana then. Maybe she was Alexei and Melina's daughter…possibly.

When the rest of the team had heard back later on what Sharon had discovered regarding the mystery woman, that had sent them on a trip to try and figure out who exactly her family was. Having Sharon reveal that there was actually a twin sister to the girl was an amazing lead. So, one of the Avengers took it into her own hands once she heard that – namely, Wanda. She knew what it was like to lose a twin, and if the young woman that they were looking after really did lose one, there was most likely a hole there that would never be filled. The least she could do is find out if they were right.

After that, they had searched all over the internet, from typical shit to the dark web, trying to see if they could find some sort of league to get them in the right direction. And soon, it wasn't long before they discovered something. The last name Liukin was associated with a Russian cemetery. Instantly, Wanda had assembled the team to fly to where it was, Fury agreeing to it nonetheless considering that it was for a mission. Thankfully the quinjet was quick enough to get them there a little faster than the normal airtime. Even so, arriving had Wanda shaking to see if this was real. They had showed up to the cemetery, stepping in and searching for her name. And it wasn't long before they did find it. Wanda had stood in front of it for a moment, feeling Clint let a hand rest against her shoulder. 'Angelina Aleksandrovna Liukin.' This was it. This was the twin. They were right. They had looked all over to see if there was even a possibility of another Liukin, but funnily, there were none under the names they were looking for. It was mainly strong Russian names that had been attached to it. "I can't believe it," she whispers, looking down at the grave, kneeling down. "There's a lot more to this woman than we realize…she was buried so deep." Clint sighs softly before nodding. "Sometimes that's the case with these things, but…this is good in a way." Wanda looks up to him. "Now that we know for sure that she exists, we have a DNA match-up. She is most likely in the International Data Base if she was dead. We were able to find her originally. If we can somehow get a blood sample from Maria, we can see if she's really Ana or not." Wanda stands, pulling her jacket around her tightly. It was still freezing cold here. "Don't you think that's a bit…sketchy? I mean both Steve and Bucky are there. I don't know how they're going to just get a blood sample off of her." "I'm sure they can figure it out," Clint assures. "We have two of the best super-soldiers in the world. They're not that dumb." "They're also not that smart," Wanda mutters. "True," Clint chuckles before helping her stand. "Come on, let's take some pictures and get this to Fury."

As had been expected, they had gotten the proof to Fury as quickly as possible of the life of Angelina. And as they had expected, Fury had requested to Bucky not that long after to somehow get a blood sample from the mystery woman. To which both Bucky and Steve had sat down for hours, trying to figure out the best way to do so. Because who can just…do that? Eventually, though, they had settled on something that might spurt up one. "How about you just take her out on a date?" Bucky's brow raises in response. "You're serious?" "Yeah, why not? I mean, there's a high probability that you'll most likely get attacked because she has so many bounty's out for her right now. It's the best option you have that's legal in our eyes." He shrugs a bit. "Or you can just attack her mysteriously." "No," Bucky instantly states. His quick response surprised Steve a bit. "I mean, I…I don't want to hurt her more than she's already been hurt. You can tell from a mile away that she has gone through some shit." "Okay…don't worry, we won't do that," Steve reassures him, rubbing his back. "But we still need to get that sample, one way or another…I believe you'll be able to do it" Bucky sighs a bit before glancing up at him. "I haven't been on a date since the 1940′s." Steve snickers. "I think you'll be fine."

After their conversation, it wasn't long before Bucky had asked Maria to come with him on a date, something he had surprisingly been quite nervous to do. Again, it had been so long since he had done something like this, but he knew that it was needed for what they were planning on doing. And she had agreed after a little bit, deciding that they would head out to a smaller restaurant in Madripoor, one that wouldn't attract so much attention. When he had come to pick her up at her apartment, he had waited downstairs for her to come. When she arrived, he felt his mouth drop slightly. You know, it was getting really damn hard to do this mission when the subject was so goddamn gorgeous.

[fandom-pardes]

According to halacha, which actions are Azula liable for?

Reposted from my Tumblr.

One of my favorite ways to study Jewish texts is to take a fictional character or situation and examine it through the lens of Jewish text and tradition.

I’ve done this before with ABC’s Once Upon A Time. Now I’m going to take up this exercise again with Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Before I begin, a few things to keep in mind.

I’m not a Talmud scholar.

There is no definitive Jewish Opinion™ about any issue pertaining to halacha. Unanimous opinions on halacha are so rare that when we find one, we assume something went wrong in the process..

Azula is a morally polarizing character in AtLA fandom. Regardless of who you ask, you’re bound to get some strong opinions about exactly what she’s done, the extent to which she’s responsible for it, and what this says about her morality or lack thereof. I’m not going to rehash those arguments. I think I’ve made it clear that I care less about whether people approve of her behavior than I do about how their statements about her reinforce harmful messages about women, people of color, LGBT people and mentally ill people.

Nevertheless, she’s incredibly interesting, and studying Jewish text is fun, so here we are.

Why examine Azula’s actions through the lens of halacha?

Halacha gets a lot of flack because it comes off as excessively legalistic. But, in my opinion, that’s based on a misunderstanding of what halacha is. Usually translated as “Jewish law,” the word halacha actually comes from the root word that means “to go/walk.”

Halacha is not a collection of rules for the sake of having rules. It’s meant to take us somewhere. You can write a library of books about exactly what that is and what it means. But for the sake of simplicity, halacha is how we show that we recognize the holiness of everything in creation. So we aim to do right by one another, by the land we live in and by the creatures we share this world with.

Before we can launch into examining the halachic ramifications of the things Azula does, we need to establish some boundaries.

Only the show counts. It’s the common frame of reference universally accepted by the vast majority of fandom. Fandom’s stances on the comics, novelizations and other tie-in materials are too variable to base an analysis on.

Word of God is immaterial. While some would use the phrase Death of the Author, Jewish tradition has a more entertaining take on it. In the Talmud, there’s a dispute between Rabbi Eliezer and some of his peers. In that story, Rabbi Eliezer says that if he’s right, this or that miraculous thing would happen, and those miraculous things do happen. But the other rabbis still reject it because we don’t determine halacha by miraculous signs. Eventually, God parts the heavens and says, “Rabbi Eliezer is right.” But another rabbi responds, “The Torah is not in heaven,” meaning that the Torah was meant for human beings on earth to interpret for themselves. And God’s response? To smile and say, “My children have defeated Me.”

Now, let’s begin.

Is Azula bound by halacha?

She’s not Jewish, so no. However, all human beings are bound by the Noahide laws. For the sake of argument, let’s say that the Noahide covenant applies to all humans on all worlds. According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 56a.24):

Since the halakhot of the descendants of Noah have been mentioned, a full discussion of the Noahide mitzvot is presented. The Sages taught in a baraita: The descendants of Noah, i.e., all of humanity, were commanded to observe seven mitzvot: The mitzva of establishing courts of judgment; and the prohibition against blessing, i.e., cursing, the name of God; and the prohibition of idol worship; and the prohibition against forbidden sexual relations; and the prohibition of bloodshed; and the prohibition of robbery; and the prohibition against eating a limb from a living animal.

What is Azula’s legal status?

In any case, we know the rules, and now we have to decide whether Azula broke them or not, right?

Not so fast.

First, we have to determine if Azula is of the appropriate legal status to be held accountable for upholding the Noahide laws. In other words: when she committed certain acts, was Azula an adult capable of making rational decisions?

Clear your mind of the idea that being an adult is the same as being a grownup. Instead, think of it as a term that defines when people can make legally binding decisions.

As far as I can tell, the Talmud doesn’t say when a gentile becomes an adult. However, we can use halacha as a guide.

Now for a warning.

If frank talk about the physical development of adolescents makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this next part. There’s nothing graphic or titillating about what I’m going to discuss, but if breasts and pubic hair squick you out, skip this part until I say it’s safe in bold like this.

According to halacha, a girl reaches adulthood when she’s twelve years and one day old and has two pubic hairs. Yeah, you read that right. Twelve and two pubes are the requirement. Before this point, nothing she does is legally binding, even if she’s really smart and claims to be fully aware of what she’s doing. After this point, her actions are legally binding, even if she says she had no idea what she was doing.

On the show, we see Azula in a range of ages. In “Zuko Alone,” we see her at roughly eight years old. In “The Storm,” she’s about eleven. In all the other episodes she’s in, she’s fourteen. So, from a legal standpoint, flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding. At that point in time, the responsibility would fall to her parents.

Um, I’m not willing to speculate about the genitals of an underage cartoon character, so for the sake of argument, I’m assuming that 14-year-old Azula meets the two pubes requirement. Thus, 14-year-old Azula is responsible for her actions.

If you skipped that last part, it’s safe to continue now.

OK, we’ve established that flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding, but in the main story, Azula is legally an adult and responsible for her actions.

We good? Alright.

Which Noahide laws does Azula actually break?

This is both easier and harder than it seems.

The laws about idol worship, cursing God, and forbidden sexual acts don’t apply to her because neither religion nor sex are portrayed as such on the show. Also, the law about establishing courts of justice is a communal obligation, not one that falls on a single individual, so that’s another one we don’t have to concern ourselves with.

That leaves the prohibitions against bloodshed, robbery and eating a limb cut from a living animal.

First up: bloodshed.

The connotation of the prohibition against bloodshed is not for general acts of violence, but actual murder.

Here’s where I think I’m going to throw a lot of people for a loop. Azula doesn’t kill anyone on the show. She tries. She comes close. She wouldn’t lose sleep over it if she did. But nobody’s dead because of her. She doesn’t even take lives as collateral damage.

One could argue that zapping Aang with lightning counts as killing, but when the Sages talk about death and dying, I assume they mean the kind where the dead stay dead, not people who are revived by magic spirit water. Furthermore, if someone’s about to kill you (and I think entering the Avatar State qualifies here), you are halachically obligated to save your own life, even if it means killing that person.

Second: robbery.

We’ll come back to that.

Third: eating a limb from a living animal.

This prohibition is often expanded to incorporate all forms of animal cruelty.

The show does portray animal cruelty. We see a prime example with the circus in “Appa’s Lost Days.”

But what about Azula? We don’t see her interact with many animals on the show, but there are two notable examples: Appa the sky bison in “Appa’s Lost Days” and Bosco the bear in “The Crossroads of Destiny.”

How does her behavior measure up? Despite her earlier behavior of terrorizing turtleducks, Azula does not harm either Appa or Bosco.

On the show, Mai and Ty Lee are seen spending time with Bosco in the throne room while the Earth King is imprisoned. So, at the very least, they treat the bear well.

So, Azula is not liable for animal cruelty.

*hands Azula her Not As Big A Jerk As She Could Have Been award*

Now, let’s revisit that prohibition against robbery.

Given the prescribed punishment (decapitation), the connotation seems to be taking the rightful property of another through violent means. That being said, the prohibition against robbery is often extended to include all sorts of theft.

This one might have some legs. On the show, does Azula take the rightful property of another, and does she use violent means to do so?

Absolutely.

A major example is stealing the clothes of the Kyoshi Warriors after defeating them in combat.

But!

The show takes place during a time of war, and the Kyoshi Warriors, as allies of the Avatar, are enemies of the Fire Nation. So does beating them up and taking their uniforms fall under the prohibition against robbery, or are the Kyoshi Warrior uniforms considered the spoils of war and thus free for the taking?

Halachically speaking, it might actually be the latter. When fighting the Kyoshi Warriors, Azula acts as a military commander during a time of war and achieves a decisive victory against an elite combat unit. Thus, she is entitled to take their stuff.

So, back to the original question: which actions does Azula commit during the show that she’s halachically liable for?

The answer, shockingly, may be: none.

On the show, we’re encouraged to think of Azula as a Very Bad Girl who does Very Bad Things. She’s calculating, ruthless and deceptive. She’s also full of herself. She’s not someone who inspires warm, fuzzy feelings in most people. But when you put her actions under the microscope, she exercises remarkable restraint compared to what she’s capable of.

Don’t worry. No one’s going to nominate her for a Nobel Peace Prize just yet. This is Azula we’re talking about. She’s not acting out of an overwhelming love for humanity. But it is interesting that despite her threats to kill, maim and destroy, she doesn’t participate in wanton destruction or wasteful loss of life.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

The Spidey Squad Playing Among Us

Masterlist

Welp, this game is all the rave all of a sudden and irdk how since the game's pretty much been here forever lol but it's still fun so I had to jump on the bandwagon and here we are! Make sure you check go out @chaoticpete's new fic. Anyways here it is! If this gets enough likes I might do an avengers headcanon too.

Thanks to @angelsparkers for helping me realize I wasn't writing complete garbage and helping me to get through it even though she didn't even know she was doing that. So yeah thanks for that.

Peter

Crewmate: Peter is that crewmate that will 100% call you out on your bs, because he knows the game a little too well for you to be able to pull anything over him(because of all that free time waiting on patrol). You think all that stuff with the avengers didn't teach him strategy? Ha! This guy is PEAK detective. Gets his tasks done fast and when he's done is probably spending his time monitoring people on security or vitals. It only took him like 2 weeks to memorize all the maps and where everything is, so if you say you were in navigation, you better believe he's gonna ask you what task you were doing there. And if you don't answer to his liking, Peter will sound the "sus" alarm on you in two point five seconds and have everyone voting you out. He's probably the only person that could figure out MJ when she's the impostor. So if you're the impostor, watch your words and make sure your alibis are strong cuz little Petey ain't playin' no games. Definitely gets attacked from time to time by those people that are always like "sMaRt PpL rUiN tHe GaMe"

Impostor: He's pretty much the most average impostor. Sometimes he doesn't know what to say when people call him sus and he'll get voted out because he's being "too quiet" or because Ned keeps defending him. He'll mess up every now and then but for the most part, he's pretty decent. His style is usually to stay in the vents most of the game and kill when only one person's around. He probably bribes Ned to not rat him out by promising him that he won't kill him.

Name: It used to be just Peter, but soon he wanted an actual cool name so he chose Sherlock because of all the times when he was "too smart" and won the game too quickly and people would go "pack it up Sherlock" and vote him out.

Favorite color to be: It used to be red, but he quickly found that the more he was red the more people found him "sus" so now he's usually either blue or cyan

Ned

Crewmate: Pretty average crewmate. 80% of the time is covering for Peter, even if Peter is the impostor. Won't do much calling people out unless he's absolutely sure that he saw a kill or vent. Pretty chill and easily persuadable. You'd definitely want him on your team. If he ever gets wrongfully ejected he's the one that pitifully tries to plead his case saying stuff like "what???" and "guys it's not me!!!!" which doesn't really convince anyone and just makes him look more guilty. He'll still do his tasks after though.

Impostor: He's the impostor that doesn't want to be the impostor. If you're texting then maybe he can hold his own, but if you're doing voice chats, there's no way this guy is getting past ANYONE. He has so many tells that it's ridiculous. Is actually scared to vent too much because he's always paranoid that someone's gonna be right there when he jumps out. 8/10 the crewmates win when he's the imposter because he'll just kill like only two people the entire time or gets caught really early on.

Name: Probably some sci-fi reference like r2d2 or Potter

Favorite color to be: Yellow or white because he says those are the most "innocent" colors and he'll be less likely to get voted if he's those (not true but we'll let him believe it)

MJ

Crewmate: Suspicion times 100. Her motto: trust no one. Will get you kicked out in a heartbeat with a quick "trust me. if it's not them vote me next." An absolute unit but will never be caught getting emotional over a game. If she's ever wrongfully ejected her last words will be "whatever. go ahead. vote me and lose." She'll just come back in the next game with a vengeance and false accusations ready, not caring if the entire team loses because of it. She's especially dangerous to have because people usually trust her word. She always finds a way to seem the least suspicious. Though sometimes she'll get suspected because of her quiet nature. There's always that one guy that's ready to go "uR qUiEt ThAt'S sUs!!"

Impostor: If MJ is the impostor, you can just throw your whole phone away. You're not winning that game. Like, ever. She will do whatever it takes to win, even sell out her own her partner. On the off chance that you catch her being suspicious, she'll sabotage a bunch of things so that you can't call meetings and then she'll kill you when no one's around. She is ruthless and will hurt your feelings with the way that she will own everyone in the game. Hardly anyone ever expects her. Thrives on venting. You won't see her you'll just be doing a task and suddenly you'll be dead.

Name: Used to be just MJ but she got annoyed with all the people in the messages who always assumed she meant Michael Jackson or Michael Jordan so she changed it to Michelle

Favorite color to be: She literally doesn't care either way. Won't change the gameplay so why bother? Whatever color she ends up with she'll be fine.

Betty

Crewmate & Impostor: The most average player of them all. She wins some, she loses some. Nice partner to have though, because she'll never give you away. Probably the first to die most times. If she ever gets wrongfully ejected she's the one that uses her last words to say who she thinks it and doesn't even try to plead her case once it starts to look bad for her. She just finished the rest of her tasks.

Name: Probably either her name or some nickname or inside joke. Idk she just seems like the type of person to have a reference to something that absolutely nobody knows

Favorite color to be: Pink. Just because she likes pink.

Flash

Crewmate: Claims things are sus even if they aren't. Will totally be biased based on names. Anybody who knows him will never count him as a credible source. Gets voted out quickly alot because of how annoying he is in the game.

Impostor: He's the easiest to figure out. He's the impostor that obnoxiously accuses literally everyone else. And in all capital letters too. "ITS RED I STG. IF IT'S NOT HIM VOTE ME NEXT!" Calls everyone sus and always claims he's seen people running from the body. He usually self-reports and goes for the easy marks in electrical. He's not that good (even though he thinks he is) and it takes anyone with a brain to figure him out. Peter and MJ are bane of his existence in that game. If he gets wrongfully ejected he'll rage and probably leave the game like the little crybaby he is.

Name: Spideys#1 because he's really just THAT obsessed. Or when he's really feeling "teenage boy" he'll be cOchieman

Favorite color to be: Red because sPiDeRmAn'S hIs BeSt FrIeNd (ahahaha if only he knew)

May

She didn't know this game at all until Peter introduced her to it one day because he was bored. She LOVED it. He had to pry it out of her hands after she kept repeating "Hold on, one more!" So she downloaded on her phone and now she plays it whenever she's bored.

Crewmate: Average. Same as Betty.

Impostor: The way May can actually dominate being the impostor is sort of scary. And she'd always be the last person you'd expect because she just has that trusting vibe about her. Sometimes she'll mess up and give herself away, but for the most part, she's pretty good. Doesn't vent much. Just like Ned, she doesn't trust it.

Name: Madonna

Favorite color to be: She doesn't care much but she prefers to be purple, cyan, or orange

Funny Moment

《Peter calls an emergency meeting 10 seconds into the game》

- Michelle: what

- Betty: what

- Michelle: skip

- r2d2: bro already?

- Sherlock: okay everyone just listen

- k0chieman: bruh

- Michelle: okay listen to what

- Sherlock: flash what task are you doing

- Betty: alright were listening

- k0chieman: the divert thingy in navi

- r2d2: pete what is this

- Sherlock: yeah dude that diverty thingy is the second of two steps

- Sherlock: u never did the first

- Sherlock: which means ur an impostor faking

- Michelle: flash?

- k0chieman: no

- k0chieman: i did do it

- r2d2: the times low we gotta decide guys

- Sherlock: if you did it wouldve taken you 12-15 seconds to get there and were not that far in the game

- Sherlock: u cant already be doing it

- Sherlock: everybody vote flash

- r2d2: petes on x games mode

- Michelle: damn dude

- k0chieman: wtf parker

- Sherlock: bye dude

- Sherlock: worlds greatest detective strikes again

- Michelle: okay calm down pete

《couple seconds later》

. 　　　。　　　　•　 　ﾟ　　。 　　.

　　　.　　　 　　.　　　　　。　　 。　. 　

.　　 。　　　　　 ඞ 。 . 　　 • 　　　　•

　　ﾟ　　 Flash was An Impostor.　 。　.

　　'　　　 1 Impostor remains 　 　　。

　　ﾟ　　　.　　　. ,　　　　.　 .

Best Imposter Combos

Peter & Ned: Goes without saying. Nine times out of ten they're in the same room while playing this so they can just talk strategy to each other and take everyone out really quickly. Really annoying for everybody else, but they'll win so they're happy.

MJ & Peter: These two together are a force to be reckoned with. The second they see that they're both impostors they call each other up and get to business like they're on a mission. This stuff is serious. (More for Peter than MJ. She has to keep telling him that it's just a game.) He stays on security stuff, telling her when it's safe, and she racks up the kills. When things get heavy, they sabotage and then go on a spree. These two hardly ever lose. (When the whole squad is together whoever's in charge [if it's not Pete or MJ] usually puts the kill cooldown at max just in case these two get that they can't be at full power)

MJ & Betty: Betty isn't afraid to sacrifice herself so that they'll win and MJ is ruthless and quick with her kills. Both have the smarts to be able to be extremely persuasive and you'd hate for them to pick you to frame. Because being put against those two in the chatroom will lead you nowhere but abyss of space.

May & Peter: Parkers united. 'Nough said.

Tagging: @spideyyeet, @soft-petey, @spidey-reids-2003, @spidey-boy-89, @sovereignparker, @bubblebucky, @underoosjae

[spcncershybrid]

Misunderstanding-Spencer Reid Imagine PART ONE

GIFS ARE NOT MINE I FOUND THEM ON GOOGLE

(Summary: When your brother Elijah comes back to share some news a certain genius can take it the wrong way especially when you haven’t told him your family background.)

Spencer Reid X Fem!Mikaelson!Reader

(A/N: The case portion is not the best. I'm sorry I gave up halfway writing it that’s why it’s so rushed. Also I created an instagram account for this blog!)

I walk into the bullpen greeting JJ and Penelope as I head over to my desk. I look onto my desk to see a giant bouquet of roses sitting on top of it with a small card. “Awe did Spence get you those?” JJ says, placing her hands on her face as she gushes about the flowers. “There’s a card, read it. Don’t keep us in the dust.” Penelope says getting closer. ‘-Hope you're free soon. E.M’ I read on the card. “Who’s E.M?” JJ asks. “I have no clue.” I lie as I shove the card into my desk. Why would Elijah send me flowers? “Why are you all gathered so secretively?” I hear Spencer say as he gets closer to us, tugging at his bag. “Your girlfriend has a secret admirer boy wonder.” Penelope says excitedly. “No I don’t Pen.” I say glaring at her playfully. Spencer shifts uncomfortably. I walk over to him giving him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t worry about it.” I whisper to him. He looks down at me smiling softly. He really shouldn’t worry seeing as the flowers are from my brother who the whole BAU has no clue about. I hear footsteps walking over to us and someone clear their throat. “Case?” I say smiling as I turn around to face Hotch. He nods as we all follow behind him. “Agent Mikaelson nice flowers by the way.” Hotch says, smiling, breaking his cold demeanor. I shove my head into my hands laughing as I sat down in the debriefing room. “I heard our fav BAU girly got flowers, kid how do you feel?” Derek says walking in putting his things down. Spencer grumbles an answer before Penelope gives us all our files. “Okay my fine superheroes our case today is just at our backdoor in Mystic Falls, Virginia.” Penelope says walking to the board with her remote. “Ten bodies were found burned and scattered in the Mystic Falls Cemetery.” Penelope says confused. She flips through the crime scene photos. “A cemetery really?” JJ questions as the outside photos appear. Now I can guess why Elijah sent the flowers. I pull out my phone and text Elijah. 

-I can see the occasion the flowers were needed for.

-Sorry for the dire circumstances whenever you are available I can pick you up

-Fine.

I place my phone back into my pocket as the team continues talking and creating theories on the case.

We all enter the jet grabbing our usual in air items for the small flight. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I place my water and chips down as I head over to the back far away from the team. “Yes?” I say answering the phone. “This conversation will continue in person but our dearest mother is back.” Elijah’s voice says through the phone. “Really?” I questioned not expecting my suspicions to be true. “How is everyone else?” I ask. “They’re adjusting and creating a plan when you land tell me.” Elijah says back. “How’d you know I was flying?” I ask, smiling slightly. “Some may say our family has marvelous hearing.” He says. I hum in response. “I’ll tell you when I land. Bye.” I say quickly as I see Spencer walk over with my drink and chips. “Who was that?” He asks as he hands me my things. “No one Spence, it isn’t really important.” I say smiling at him. “Want to cuddle? I know you sometimes hate quick landings?” He asks, sitting down next to me. He raises his arm and I immediately cuddle into his side smiling. “Awe they are so dang cute.” I hear Emily whisper over to JJ. “I know right.”  JJ whispers back smiling. I smile softly at their words although they weren't meant for my ears. I feel Spencer kiss the top of my head. “Stop.” I say softly. “I can’t reach your forehead at this angle so next best thing.” He says laughing.  

_____________________

We head over to the sheriff’s station and are greeted by Elizabeth. “Hi, welcome to Mystic Falls BAU team. I’m Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes.” She says greeting us. “Hi I am SSA Hotchner. These are SSA Rossi, Jareau, Prentiss, Mikaelson, and Morgan. This one is Dr. Spencer Reid.” Hotch introduces us all.  She leads us to a room to set up our things and exits the room. “You do know this may be supernatural.” I say exiting the room, walking over to her. “Of course.” She says smiling at me. “My family will get to the bottom of it secretly.” I say smiling back. “I heard a bunch of stories about the Mikaelson family. You don’t seem ruthless.” She says tilting her head. “Well I can control my bloodlust and before I was turned I was considered the nicest in our village. Without my humanity can be a different story.” I say matter of factly walking to the room with my team. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket before I enter the room. “Hello?” I question. “Lovely my older sister!” I hear Rebekah’s voice exclaim through the line. “Bekah? What do you need first Elijah now you. Let me guess Kol is coming next.” I say laughing slightly. “Who’s Y/N talking to?” I hear Spencer’s voice say. “Look Rebekah, I have to go, I have a case.” I say quickly. “In Mystic Falls I presume.” She says. “Yes I’m guessing it was mother. Elijah said he’ll fill me in later. Now can I please get back to my job.” I say hanging up the phone. I walk into the room catching the eyes of the team. “Sorry about that my cousin is...apartment sitting.” I lie. “Do we have anything to go off on about the case?” I switch the subject quickly to not get more questions asked. “Well Garcia is running some background information on the bodies. Only two were identified.” Derek says eyeing me. “That’s great.” I say looking at the information. “We're just about to interview the identified people’s families.” Derek says standing up. JJ and Spencer follow him out. “So who really was that?” Emily asks me as the door closes. “I don’t know what you're talking about Em.” I tell her looking away from her. “If you say so but please don’t hurt Spence in the process.” She says. “I won’t Em trust me all of you have it wrong.” I say placing some pins on the board. She hums and turns to the board placing her own things on it. Emily’s phone starts ringing. “Yes Garcia.” She answers. “Okay I’ll put you on speaker.” She says pulling her phone away from her ear, placing it on the table. “Okay girlies so, I already told the rest of the team but we have a lead on a guy named Damon Salvatore. Someone tipped him off as a low level arsonist. The team is headed to his house but they said you guys are closer to him.” Penelope says then hangs up the phone. Damon? Really? Who got him involved? “You coming?” Emily says peeking her head through the door vest in hand.

_____________________

“Damon Salvatore! FBI!” Emily says, knocking on the door. “I’ll head to the back .” I tell Emily as I sneak to the back. “Okay Damon I know you can hear me.” I whisper. “Can you tell me why the feds are at my door” I hear him whisper back. “My family is having some issues. I guess you were framed, or someone got compelled but take the fall then I’ll help compel you out.” I whisper back. “Why am I not surprised.” Damon whispers. “Just do it Damon.” I whisper, scolding him slightly. I hear the door bust down and my team's footsteps echo around the house. I enter through the back meeting Damon’s blue eyes. “Let me arrest you.” I whisper. He rolls his eyes and turns around. I quickly cuff him and exit the home handing him over to Sheriff Forbes. “Your family owes me.” I hear Damon whisper. “Yeah yeah.” I whisper back heading into the FBI van. We make it back to the sheriff's station with Damon being held by Sheriff Forbes. “When we leave you can compel them.” I say walking towards him. “Of course. Tell Barbie Klaus I said hi.” He says, smirking slightly. I nod and walk over to my team as we all gather our things to head to the jet. 

_____________________

We all walk into the bullpen setting our stuff down at our desks. I see Spencer swiftly type something into his phone before shoving it back into his pocket before exiting the bullpen. “Delivery for a Y/N Mikaelson.” I hear a guy’s voice say from behind me. I look over to see a man holding a bouquet of orchids. I see the team clasping their hands together looking excited. Next time I see Elijah I will end him. I walk up to the delivery guy and stare into his eyes. “Whoever sent these flowers you will return them and tell the person I didn’t want them.” I say compelling him. The delivery boy exits the room with the flowers. I hear my phone ding. Think of him he shall message. Great Elijah again.

-I’m outside

-I’ll be there now Elijah

I grab my bag and exit the room making my way to the elevator. I head down and step outside being greeted by my brother's car. “Stop sending me flowers this morning was enough Elijah.” I say opening his car door. “I didn’t send any after this morning.” He says looking towards me. “Then who sent them.” I say confused shoving my bag into the car. “My guess it’s him.” Elijah says pointing behind me. “Y/N!” I hear Spencer exclaim as he holds orchids and my phone in his hand. I hesitate slightly looking at Spencer. “First it was the flowers then the secretive texts and calls. Is that him?” Spencer says running a hand through his hair. “What?” I asked confused. “Is he the reason you sent my flowers back?” Spencer questions shoving the flowers in Elijah direction. “That was you?” I ask piecing together the situation. He messaged the flower delivery guy while we were all in the bullpen. “Don't act like you didn’t know you told the delivery guy to give it back!” Spencer says, raising his voice. “If we leave now we can make it.” I hear Elijah say stepping out of the car. “Make it where Y/N.” Spencer's voice cracks slightly as tears pools his eyes. “I can’t say where Spencer.” I tell him sadly. I can’t tell him about my mother; she'll probably kill him. “If you get in that car don’t bother coming back.” Spencer says walking to me, handing me my phone. I hesitate looking between him and the car door. Elijah steps back into the car. “Sorry Spencer.” I whisper, grabbing my phone. I step into the car and shut the door leaving Spencer standing at the sidewalk. Elijah starts to drive off turning up the music slightly. I look at the side mirror seeing Spencer throw the flowers in the car's direction and drop to his knees. My heart breaks at the sight. I broke his heart. “You and your boyfriend seem to be in the middle of a huge misunderstanding.” Elijah says breaking the silence. “Should I just come clean and tell him?” I ask, sighing heavily as I look out the window. “Do you love him?” Elijah asks, looking towards me. “Yes but I never told him about our family and us being the originals. This whole mess makes me want to skip town and just let him have a normal life without me Elijah.” I say looking at him. “If you love him and trust him, tell him. I envy your semi-normal life, we all made a vow to each other but you still managed to live your life.” Elijah confessed as he stared back to the road. “Yeah well thinking and acting mortal doesn’t necessarily make me one.” I say sadly as an unknown tear slips out. I hear multiple beeps go off from my phone indicating a bunch of messages.

Pen: What did you do to Boy Wonder?

JJ: What happened between you and Spence?

Derek: Did you and kid have a fight?

Emily: What did you do??

Hotch: What happened between you and Reid?

I shut off my phone sighing at the influx of messages. What the hell did I do?

[muwur]

haikyuu x otome: masterlist | rules

prologue

» synopsis:   a haikyuu x reader au where you, the player, are bound for university in a metropolis several hours away from home. hope and excitement are replaced with dread as you come to realize that juggling life as a student and a part-time employee takes a toll. from demanding classes to a ruthless manager, life just can’t seem to give you a break. that is, until you meet a certain someone who reminds you how to live and follow your dreams. somehow, when you’re with them, time stands still. maybe things are finally starting to look up. if only you could stay in those moments for just a little longer.

» gn reader

» ngl came out longer than i expected but thats ok LMAO,, them otome intros be unnecessarily long too mb; 3.1k words

» note: if u rllyy want u can kinda skip or just skim this, the gist is that you move in n meet like 3 ppl LOL

The train hummed as it zoomed through the landscape, leaving behind the familiar people, sights, sounds, and smells. Yawning, you rubbed your nap away from weary eyes and peered out the window. Just hours ago you had waved a bittersweet farewell to your town, friends, and family, who woke at the crack of dawn to send you off with tight hugs and teary-eyed wishes of good luck. 

Your heart lurched at the memory. You’d miss them. In an effort to part happily, you promised to come back for the holidays, call often, and hook your friends up with any cute people you just knew would match them. Glancing down at your phone, you smiled at the excited text messages from your friends. Your fingers tapped away at the keyboard in response.

‘Just woke up from my nap. I think I’m here!’

Outside, buildings scraped the clouds and their windows shined in the light of the afternoon sun. Cars honked, bikes swerved, crowds bustled. On one end of the block, a man on a ladder was painting a sign for his store, while on the other end , a street performer danced energetically in her black shoes. Smoke emitted from a food vendor’s stand, where a man skillfully flipped some meat and vegetables on a stove, even throwing his spatula into the air to entertain his customers. The city was alive. 

Stepping off the train, you clutched your belongings and felt a sudden rush of exhilaration. You were finally here. You intended to take a deep breath, in order to take in your first taste of this city’s air, only to stop halfway in a short hacking fit to expel train exhaust from your lungs. 

‘That was pleasant,’ you grumbled to yourself, still coughing as you made your way off the platform towards the street. Luckily, Lyft existed. And it was cheaper here! Within minutes of your order, a black Toyota pulled up in front of you. The driver smiled and stepped out of the car, their wavy brown hair bouncing against their shoulders. “Let me help you with those,” they smiled as they offered to take your bags and put them in the trunk. 

“Oh, thank you so much!” What a kind person, you thought as you opened the backseat of the car. Ooh.

On second thought, maybe you were too optimistic. Who knew a 10 minute ride could feel so long? It seemed at least twice that much when you were squished in the backseat with some handsy couple. Just your luck, someone was already occupying the passenger seat. Oh well, a minor inconvenience in the name of saving money. All you could do was shift closer to the door, fix your gaze outside the window, and try to ignore the strange purrs coming from your seatmates. A familiar building caught your eye and you let out a sigh of relief when the car came to a stop. You thanked your driver as you stepped out and pulled your bags out of the trunk. Looking back and forth from your phone to the townhouse before you, you had to admit the real thing looked a little more worn down than how it was advertised, but you couldn’t blame them. I mean, your pictures on instagram aren’t exactly the everyday representation of yourself, either.

Aged wood creaked as you hoisted your bags up the front steps. You tapped  your knuckles three times against the brown door and rang the buzzer to the landlord’s office. 

“Hello? Miss Q?” you asked, hoping the landlord you’ve been contacting for the last two months would answer. “It’s me, y/n, I let you know I’d be coming in today.”

No answer. 15 minutes, a few text messages, and a phone call later, still no response. You groaned. Were you at the right place? Looking back at the address of the building and your location, you were sure this was it. Did Miss Q happen to be out? Or was she napping and just happened to be a heavy sleeper? Maybe her phone died. Whatever the reason, you were stuck out here for the meantime. Shrugging it off, you took a seat on a dusty patio chair and started to scroll mindlessly through your phone to pass the time. Hopefully she’d reply soon. 

The screech of a vehicle coming to a stop caught your ear. You looked up to see that the mover’s van you ordered pulled up across the street. Well, at least your things arrived. You stood up and waved to the man driving the vehicle. Making your way to greet and thank him, you helped him unload your things and set them down on the free space in front of the complex, making sure to keep the pathways clear. Placing down the last of the things onto the ground, you wiped the sweat off your brow, tipped the man, and watched him leave.

20 minutes of that and still you remained stuck outside. The late summer sun was beginning to get unbearably warm. Sitting amongst your pile of things, you couldn’t help but groan inwardly at the thought of all the unpacking you had to do. On top of that, classes begin in a week, and you needed to search for a job as soon as possible to help pay the bills. 

“Erm, hello? Are you y/n l/n, by any chance?” a gentle voice asked.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice anyone had approached you. He was a fairly tall boy with dark hair half pulled back into a messy bun. Freckles adorned his face, complemented by his soft brown eyes and warm smile. He wore a pair of white shoes, slightly distressed lightwash jeans that were rolled up at the bottom, and a loose fitting, olive button up half tucked into his jeans. In his arms was a brown paper bag with a loaf of bread peeking out. 

(I STAN LONG HAIRED/HAIRBUN YAMS SO HARD SO HE’S GONNA HAVE IT OK)

“Yeah, I am! Do you live here?” you responded eagerly, getting up to your feet.

He nodded with a smile. “I do! Apparently Miss Q’s sick and staying at her daughter’s place for now, so her daughter messaged me to help you get settled in. Let me put these groceries away and get your key.”

He disappeared into the townhouse, then returned a few moments later with a key dangling between his fingers. “Miss Q needs a better hiding spot for her spare office key. The plant pot is way too obvious. Anyways, I can show you to your room, now. I’ll help you carry your things up,” he offered.

“That would be great! Thanks again for all your help, otherwise I’d probably have been stuck out here all night,” you said, gently handing him a box to carry.

“Y-Yeah, no problem! Though, Tsukki might’ve let you in if he saw you out here, too. Oh, and my name’s Tadashi Yamaguchi, by the way. Some people call me Yams. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Yams,” you huffed in amusement at his cute nickname. “Call me y/n.” Carrying some boxes, you followed Yamaguchi into the building. Luckily you were on the first floor, second door on the lefthand side. He fumbled with the key, searching for the keyhole before turning the unlocked knob and opening the door. 

Much like the outside, the interior of the place was also outdated. You both stood in front of the quaint living area connected to the kitchen. In the back, you could see the hallway leading to the bathroom and your single bedroom. The plain, white walls of the room were illuminated by daylight coming in from the windows on the rightmost wall. You could overlook the worn couch and scuffed dining table, though, considering the place was fully furnished and leased at a great price. Miss Q had even told you both the kitchen and bathroom had actually been remodeled recently. 

Going back and forth to take your belongings inside, you thought to get to know your new neighbor. “So, how long have you lived here?”

He pursed his lips in thought and stacked the box he was carrying on top of another one. “Mm, only since the start of summer, actually. My friend and I came here to start university, and one of his favorite museums also happens to be in this city. We come from about 2 hours north of here, though. What about you?”

You set down a particularly heavy bag onto the floor with a grunt. “I’m from a place several hours west of here. I came here for school, too! Are you going to Central University, by any chance?”

“Yeah, I am!” he responded with pleasant surprise and wide eyes. “I guess we’ll be seeing each other on campus, too. Remind me to show you the closest bus stop you can take to get there.” A soft smile formed on his lips.

After finally taking in all your belongings, you collapsed onto the couch in exhaustion. Your eyes flickered over to the brunette, whose chuckle you could hear from across the room. “Long day?” he asked, settling into a spot next to you. 

Groaning, you replied, “I’ve been up since 5 am to do some last minute packing and catch my train.”

“Yikes. Sounds early.”

“Tell me about it.”

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a few seconds. Curious, he piped up with another question. “So, what made you decide to move all the way out here?”

“Hmm,” you began. “Well, I wanted to settle into a new, unknown place, y’know? Explore the world a little more and see what it’s like out here. Be on my own for the first time.”

Yamaguchi nodded thoughtfully in understanding. “I get you. My best friend and I kinda came here for the same reasons. We wanted to expand our worlds a bit. I’ve only been here a few months, and already so much has happened. You’ll definitely get to explore and experience a lot in this city. Things are always busy around here...” he trailed off, checking a notification on his phone that just dinged with a new message. His brown gaze flickered back to you. “Ooh, would you like to have a drink with my friend and I at my place? I live in the room right across from here. You seem like you need a break.”

You could feel your lips curve upwards. “I’d really enjoy that, actually.”

Thus you found yourself in your new friend’s apartment, sinking comfortably into his black beanbag chair, a bottle of cold lemonade in your hand. Taking another refreshing swig, your eyes traveled over to the blonde seated next to Yams on their tan sofa. You could hardly feel welcome when the first words that came out of his mouth after seeing you was a disgruntled “you brought someone here?”, which made Yamaguchi smack the back of his friend’s head.

“They’re our new neighbor, Tsukki! Be more welcoming,” he chided with a roll of his eyes. “Y/n, this is Kei Tsukishima. Tsukki, this is y/n.”

He rubbed the back of his head and glared at Yamaguchi. The blonde sighed, extending a hand out towards you. “Tsukishima. Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Erm,” you tried to smile, “nice to meet you, too, Tsukishima. Just call me y/n.”

‘How is someone as sweet as Yams best friends with this dude?’

He couldn’t be all bad, you reasoned. Maybe he was just having a bad day,,, or always having a bad day. Regardless, even if your first impression was kinda substandard and underwhelming, you hoped you’d get along. He seemed like the type to need to get to know someone before warming up to them. 

You set the empty bottle atop their maple coffee table. Two hours had creeped by, consisting mostly of lighthearted exchanges between you and Yamaguchi, with a brief, occasional response from Tsukishima. He spent most of the time flipping through the pages of a novel and lightly tapping its hardcover to the beat of whatever he was listening to on his headphones. Yamaguchi suggested getting delivery from a Thai place he liked a few blocks away, and even insisted on covering the cost for you. 

“No, you really don’t have to..! I appreciate the offer, though,” you pleaded.

He shook his head, smiling as he tapped away at postmates on his phone. “Don’t worry about it.” He logged in both your orders and nudged Tsukishima with his elbow. “What do you want?”

Pushing up his glasses, Tsukishima leaned over to look at his friend’s phone screen. A few moments passed before he pulled away and said, “Pad Kee Mao sounds good.”

30 minutes later and there was a ring at the front door. A voice on the buzzer sounded. “I have a delivery for, uh.. Tadashi!” 

“Looks like they’re here,” Yamaguchi said as he stood up. You followed him out to the main entrance. Behind the door was a boy with tousled orange hair and bright brown eyes, carrying a plastic bag filled with takeout boxes. “Here you go!” he exclaimed as he handed you the order. He peered at the brunette beside you, his face scrunching in thought before lightening up with clarity. “Hey, you were with the guy I crashed into the other day! I-Is he okay by the way? Sorry, I was in a really big rush...!”

Eyebrows shooting up in surprise and eyes widening with familiarity, Yamaguchi nodded, “Oh yeah, I remember that! Don’t worry, he’s alright, just bitter and annoyed. I’m glad you seem to be okay, as well.” 

The redhead scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and looked down at his scuffed shoes. “Ah, thanks! Um, is he around? I’d like to apologize for yesterday...”

Yamaguchi smiled. “I’ll go grab him,” he said briefly before heading back to his apartment. 

The delivery boy sighed with relief. “Man, I felt really bad about that yesterday...” he muttered. He looked back up, his eyes brightening when they met yours. “My name’s Shoyo Hinata! People usually call me Hinata.”

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you,” you smiled, offering your hand. He shook hands with you a bit too vigorously, and you nearly dropped the food held in your other arm. “Are you new around here?” he asked.

“Hah, is it that obvious?” you joked.

“Nahh, just a wild guess. You’re just really refreshing, is all! Most of the people I meet seem burnt out, but I don’t blame them. We’ve all got busy lives. Talking to you is nice, though! I haven’t learned any customer’s names, well, since I started working! Then again, it’s only been two months... Anyways, where you from? I was born and raised here.”

If anything, you thought Hinata was the refreshing one. A tad talkative, but refreshing nonetheless. He effused a radiance that matched his vivid hair. “I’m from *insert place here*, a few hours west of here. I just arrived today!”

Before he could give you a response, however, you both heard footsteps approaching. You could recognize Tsukishima’s voice muttering a low “let’s get this over with” from behind you. Now standing at the doorframe, the blonde towered over Hinata. His countenance displayed obvious annoyance. However, he maintained his composure, pressed his finger against the bridge of his nose, and sighed out, “What do you want?”

Hinata bowed. “I’m sorry I crashed into you with my bike the other day! I was rushing to volleyball practice and I wasn’t looking. It was my fault.”

Eyes narrowing, Tsukishima allowed several moments of silence to achingly pass before letting out a small huff. “Fine. Apology accepted.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned around to return to his room. “Watch where you’re going next time, idiot. You’d better hope you don’t run into me again.” A door shut.

‘That was quick.’

Hinata looked up to watch him leave and straightened his form again. Lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, he crossed his arms across his chest. “Geez, what’s his deal?” Yamaguchi cast him an apologetic look. “Ah, he’s just like that. He appreciates the gesture, though.” 

A high-pitched ding caught your attention. “Ah, I gotta go make another delivery! It was nice to meet you all!” 

Quickly grabbing a bill out of your pocket, you stopped Hinata mid-step. “Wait! Here, please take this. Thanks for the food!”

He accepted the tip from your hands, looking back and forth between you and the money. “Wow, thank you so much! I really hope to see you around. Have a great night!” With a final smile and wave, he bounded off the porch steps towards his bike, hopped on, then disappeared down the street. 

After having dinner and exchanging contact information with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, you thanked them for having you over and retired back to your room. Drained, you only had enough energy to make up your bed and unpack your bathroom essentials. You trudged into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, weariness was evident in your dull gaze. ‘Ugh, I can’t wait to sleep,’ you thought as you turned the sink on. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin and livened your senses. You brushed your teeth before retreating to your bedroom and changing into a comfier pair of clothes. 

You checked the time on your phone. How was it only 11 PM? The darkness, coupled with your exhaustion, made it seem at least three hours ahead. You plugged the phone in to charge and set it down on the bedside table. ‘No need to set an alarm,’ you thought, ‘I just wanna sleep.’ 

You took a few minutes to stare at the dark ceiling overhead, thinking about all the new changes coming your way.  New faces, cool food, and exciting places. Hopefully you had some time these first few weeks to explore and familiarize yourself with the city. Excitement mixed with a prick of anxiety as you thought about how you could manage on your own. However, you had faith in your independence. You would be okay. Besides, there were friendly people out here like Yamaguchi, Hinata, and maybe Tsukishima who you could trust if you ever needed help.

It didn’t take long for you to drift off into a deep slumber. You lazily woke up the following morning, yawning with outstretched arms. ‘That was the best sleep I’ve had in ages,’ you thought as you sat up. It was half an hour before noon. The sun shone brightly through your windows, whose curtains were left undrawn. ‘Surprised that the light didn’t wake me up sooner.’ A loud honk made you jump in your seat. ‘Or the noise.’

You drew your legs over the side of the bed and took in the state of your room. Surrounded by stacked boxes and luggage, you were reminded what you came here for. Anticipation collected in your chest. This was the start of the life you’ve been waiting for the past few years. 

‘We’re gonna make the best of this, y/n.’

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone. 

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami. 

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.  

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again. 

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out. 

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere. 

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her. 

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled. 

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.” 

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?” 

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep. 

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained. 

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing. 

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control. 

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know. 

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?” 

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”

[anarcoqueer1994]

You Are My Sunshine

A little Shrinkyclinks fic I am working on. Not beta read so ope.

Steve had retired a few months back, giving Sam the shield. His life had been quiet enough since then, getting a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with Bucky when Bucky returned from the blip. Bucky, though,would still go out on missions with Sam and did some freelance work for the government. Steve would never admit that though his friend was more than capable, he would still get nervous when he was away for days at a time, worried that he would lose his friend for a third time. But overall, it was going fine. That is until one day when one of Bucky's jobs followed him home.

An unfortunate result of the recent Flag Smashers attacks, some anti-super soldier terrorist groups rose-up out of fear. Some wealthy elites, both part of world governments and independent ,backed these groups in secret, supplying tech and money, as they see super soldiers as a threat to their power. They weaponized these people’s fear. These groups were ruthless in their pursuits, ordered to not care who they hurt, as long as they eliminated super soldiers. 

Bucky and Sam had faced one of these groups recently, when they attempted to come after and kill Bucky while they were out on an intelligence mission. The two men thought that they had taken care of the group after a long, drawn-out battle, rounding them up to deal with the consequences. What they hadn't had counted on was a second team following Bucky back to Brooklyn, after he and Sam went their separate ways. He had done well to keep he and Steve’s location a secret, but got careless this time, letting his guard down.

So now these militants were in New York in front of their apartment building, threatening to hurt other people, to get to Steve and Bucky. Of course the men don’t  back down, not waiting for backup to arrive. The fight had been tense, Bucky and Steve vs 10 well-armed men, but nothing they couldn't handle. So they managed to subdue them. But as a last-ditch effort, one shot something right towards Bucky who had been occupied with another one of the men. It appeared like a red laser beam, almost something out of a sci-fi film. Steve noticed it coming, and not having the time to warn Bucky, jumps in front of his friend, taking the hit. He goes down hard to the ground, unconscious instantly. "Steve!" Bucky yells out, heart sinking. When his friend doesn’t  move, he is urged back into action, protecting his now defenseless friend. It takes everything in him not to revert to killing, like the Winter Soldier, but the man who shot Steve was definitely in bad shape by the time backup,government agents, arrived. They round the would be terrorist up and get them hauled away.

As the men are being taken away, Bucky runs towards Steve who is unresponsive on the ground but still breathing. He yells for an ambulance. He scoops Steve up in his arms, and against his chest, kneeling on the ground, whispering "Come on, Stevie…" he feels like this is all his fault. He was the one who brought them there, he was the one the gun was aiming for, and now the love of his life, however unrequited that may be, is lying unconscious on the ground, and god only knows what that laser did. He feels a tear well up in his eye, forcing himself not to shed it. This is not the time to break down. But he is terrified. He hasn’t seen Steve completely unresponsive in years, not since they were kids and he would get into fights and get knocked unconscious. Bucky, then too, would often lose his mind, beating up anyone who had touched his Stevie, whether Steve knew it or not. 

But before the ambulance arrives, Steve is opening his eyes again, smiling at Bucky. “Hey Buck.” He sounds completely fine.  

Bucky lets out a sigh of relief, it looks like whatever the laser was intended to do didn’t work on him. “How ya' feeling, pal?” Bucky smiles back.

“Great, just a little tired, but I don’t feel any different otherwise.” Suddenly, Steve becomes aware of Bucky’s arms still wrapped around him, pulling him close to his chest. He blushes as he clears his throat. “You planning on squeezing me to death, bud?”

Now Bucky is going red, trying to laugh it off as he lets go. “I thought you were dying, punk.”

Steve just laughs back, sitting up right as the ambulance arrives. They bring him to the truck and check him out, giving him a clean bill of health. So, Steve and Bucky return to the apartment. Both showering and then Steve opting to go lay down. Seriously injured or not, being knocked unconscious took a lot out of him.

Bucky sat in their living room, trying his best to block out the events of today. For those few minutes, when he thought he could lose Steve, he had felt like everything around him was going to crash down, burying him in a pit of loneliness and sadness that he knew he wouldn't be able to escape. The thought of losing Steve again made him sick to his stomach. Steve was his everything, even when they were kids in Brooklyn, when sickness would ravage the blonde’s body and he would spend days at the Rogers’ home, sitting near his bedside, or sliding into bed to pull him close to keep him warm. Worried that he could lose his Stevie at any moment. Terrified at the thought. And seeing Steve unconscious today, brought all those feelings back. It was worse than seeing him roughed up in battle, because at least those times he had been conscious. But this time was different.  He doesn’t know what he would do without his favorite person in the whole world, the one person who understands him. The person he would do anything for, be anything for, just to make him happy. But Steve was fine, he reminded himself.

So, he tries to shake away those feelings, sending mindless texts to Sam, who had messaged him as soon as he heard what happened. Bucky filled him in, told him Steve was alright. Then deciding to read, he picked up where he left off on The Lord of the Rings. He has to say, he loves these books, always liking The Hobbit, so being ecstatic to find out that the author had written more later. One good thing about waking up in the future. This did the trick, immersing himself into the story, melting away any lingering thoughts of today. 

That is until a couple hours pass, and he hears rough coughing from Steve’s bedroom. This catches him off guard. Steve (and himself), don’t really get sick thanks to the fantastic immune system afforded to super soldiers.

He gets up and makes his way to Steve’s bedroom, knocking as he hears the continued coughing fit, punctuated by wheezing. When Steve doesn’t answer, Bucky just opens the door, too worried to care about etiquette. When he enters the room, he stops dead in his tracks. There, sitting up coughing, is Steve. But Steve is different then when he went to lay down, He is much shorter, lacking any muscle mass, skinny, drowning in the navy t-shirt and grey sweatpants he went to sleep in. He looks like he did before the serum, give, or take a few years due to the time he has spent outside of the ice.

Bucky steps closer “Stevie?” He is shocked and worried again.

When Steve finally catches his breath, he looks down at his own hands instead of meeting Bucky’s stare, mortified by his sudden appearance change. The other man stepped closer to the bed. “Steve, I think the ray wasn’t so harmless.” He tries to say plainly, not showing the worry in his voice. For as much as he had been angry at Steve back in the day for letting the military experiment on him, he was ultimately grateful that the serum had helped his body fight back diseases that had tormented him his entire life. 

Steve’s bright blue eyes, which always stood out more against his paler, sicklier skin, shoot up and meet Bucky’s and he snaps “You think?” His harsh tone caused Bucky to recoil slightly. Steve, seeing this, quickly apologizes, feeling guilty. “Sorry, Buck…” Bucky nods and steps forward again, taking a seat on the edge of Steve’s bed. "Don't  worry about it, it was a dumb thing to say. "Bucky blushes slightly, cursing himself for being such an idiot sometimes. 

Steve sighs, not towards Bucky but in general, towards the room.“I’m just frustrated. I woke up a few minutes ago and I was this…and then it got hard to breathe and for the first time in years it felt like I was having an asthma attack. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Something switches in Bucky’s head when Steve calls himself pathetic, something more protective like how he used to feel when they were much younger. He reaches over like it is nothing, placing his hand on Steve’s bony knee. “I’m going to tell you like I did back then. Nothing about you is pathetic. You can’t help what your body does. And you…you jumped in front of a gun to protect me. I wouldn’t call that pathetic. I’d call that being a hero.” 

Steve cracks a small smile. “Whatever you say…” He does not believe him but knows Bucky won’t back down on this, he never has. He lets out a shiver. The apartment is freezing. It is February but they keep the heat low since both men had such a high tolerance to cold. Bucky notices his friend shivering. “Oh shoot, I sorry Stevie. Let me get the heat and then…I’m going to call down to the Avenger’s Tower.” Pepper has been keeping it going and he knows she will know who can help them. 

Steve nods, hating feeling so useless, but knowing Bucky is there to help. That he can rely on Bucky not to make him feel worse, just be there to support and help him. He used to hate the way Bucky would always step in. He used to think it was because Bucky thought he was weak. But in reality, its because Bucky is the best friend a guy could ask for.

Bucky turns the heat up before making the call. It’s pretty late at this point, so Pepper tells them to come down tomorrow and they will take a look at him. Bruce can be there in the morning to help. Bucky hates that, hates that he has to wait. He is worried about Steve and wants answers now. But he knows she is right. They should just rest, but first thing in the morning Bucky will be down there with Steve. 

He makes his way back to Steve’s bedroom not bothering to knock on the half-opened door, wishing he did though. Steve was facing away from him, but he was naked, ass in full view of Bucky. Even when he was small and skinny, Bucky thought he had a fantastic ass, not that anyone would have been able to tell back in the day, Steve always wore clothes too big for him. Bucky blushes as he tries to get out without Steve noticing him, but he is distracted, clumsily bumping into the door framing, causing a loud bang. Steve, turns around, suddenly covering up with the shirt that is in his hand and turning red.

Bucky stumbles through an apology. “I am so sorry…sorry…I…uh...” before just running out of the room like an embarrassed school girl. 

Smooth Barnes. He thinks to himself as he slumps down on the couch. He doesn’t know why he got so flustered, it's not like he hasn’t seen Steve naked before, changing around each other all the time as kids. Well, until his dad said they were too old to be getting dressed around each other. That was also the same time his dad had told him that they were too old to be “hugging like that”, too old to be holding hands, “Boys your age don’t need to be that affectionate with their friends'' and “Do you want folks to think you are a pansy?” Bucky closes his eyes, unsuccessfully trying to rid his mind of that memory. He thanks god that his dad never found out how he really felt for his best friend. Not that Steve felt that back, so nothing happened but still. Steve was just a good guy. He sits and tries not to drown in his thoughts. 

~

Steve can’t believe Bucky just walked in on him like this. He feels so unattractive, so weak, and sickly. His mom had told him once that he was just a "late bloomer, but he was still a very handsome person that any girl would be "lucky to have", a sentiment that Bucky would back her up on. He never believed them, and without the serum he would have never "bloomed." To be fair, he also didn’t want "any girl". He just wanted Bucky. And he knows Bucky is not checking him out, why would he be? But if Bucky were to see him naked, he would have preferred it would have been in his serum enhanced body, strong and not so fragile. 

He sighs to himself and goes back to what he was doing, looking for something, anything he could wear without it practically falling off him. It's hopeless, so he settles on a pair of boxers that happened to be too small prior to today, now having to roll the waistband to get them to stay up. As far as clothing though, he doesn’t even have a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight enough to prevent from falling off. He frowns to himself, knowing Bucky was a little smaller than him, not quite having the same muscle mass. Maybe he has at least a shirt he could wear and a pair of sweatpants he could pull tight. Bucky does have some pretty tight shirts he wears when he is working out. Steve begins automatically blushing, picturing the way they cling to his muscular chest after working out, before shaking his head back to the current moment.

Given the embarrassing situation that just occurred, he is a little apprehensive about asking. But he knows he has to, already feeling terribly cold in just these oversized boxers. He calls timidly from his room. "Buck?"

His voice snaps Bucky out of his thoughts, instinctively jumping to his feet to see what Steve needs. Walking in this time, he is met with Steve staring at the floor, obviously embarrassed, clad only in some comically large boxers and socks. He feels bad for his friend, who is clearly struggling with this. He tries to stay calm, not letting it show that he thinks Steve looks absolutely adorable...and fucking hot. 

Honestly though, Bucky has thought Steve has looked hot, both when he was skinny and when he was muscular, but he has always had a soft spot for his pre-serum appearance, loving how perfectly Steve fit under his arm when he used to pull him close "to keep him warm." He is also very careful about not staring down at the boxers, knowing from accidental glimpses when they lived together in the tiny one bedroom tenement, that even before the serum, Steve was packing a lot more than you would think by looking at him. Bucky had spent countless nights picturing what it would feel like if it was inside of him, ultimately just hurting himself more with fantasies that would never come true.

Realizing quickly that he had been standing there awkwardly in silence, Bucky speaks up. "Um, what did you need pal?"

Steve refuses to look at him, Bucky understanding that this is definitely pretty hard for him. The blonde shyly asks "Um...all my clothes are too big. And um...I know you wear a slightly smaller size. Do you have anything that is tight on you that I could wear?"

Bucky lets out a small huff from his nose, smiling as he says, "Sure thing, give me one moment." Without another word, Bucky turns around and walks out of the room towards his own. 

His thoughts have been in a constant struggle with themselves since this happened. He is worried beyond belief for Steve, and what this all means to him. Will he get sick again? Can he be changed back? Should he be changed back? Is it safe? But then a part of himself, a part that he hates, is so turned on by Steve right now, having not seen him like this in years. He is having feelings he has no right to have. He is always attracted to Steve (inside and out), it's always there, and punctuating all their interactions, even if Steve couldn't see it. He was head over heels for the man. But he hates that right now while Steve is in such emotional distress, that he had the nerve to still let his head wander into fantasies. He is appalled by himself and his fucked-up head.

As he reminds himself of his continued shortcomings, he grabs his tightest pair of pants, a pair of compression running leggings, the ones he usually wears underneath some of his other pants. He hopes the stretchiness of them means they are small enough to fit on Steve. He grabs a t-shirt he recently got that is too tight on him, never wearing it but buying it at a yard sale because he had to have it. It's a little embarrassing though, pretty sure Steve has not even seen it before. It was a Captain America shirt from the 80s with a fade shield across the front of it. Bucky had tried it on once, though it was too small for him to even justify it as a workout top.

He anxiously walks back to Steve’s room, trying to make up a lie about the shirt other than "I like it because it makes me think of you and sometimes I take it with me on missions so I can pretend you are with me." Luckily when he hands Steve the clothes, Steve only raises his brow for a second, before smiling and nodding in gratitude for the clothes. Bucky sees himself out Steve could get dressed. 

After a little bit, Steve joins him out into the living room. Bucky has to hide a smile when he sees Steve in his clothes. The shirt is still too big for Steve and he can tell the pants must be pulled up high above his waist. Steve chooses not to acknowledge it, opting instead to sit down on the couch next to Bucky.

Steve doesn’t want things to be weird. Today has been weird enough, and the last thing he wants right now is his best friend being freaked out around him too. Steve, in the most casual voice he could muster says “Want to order a pizza and watch a movie?” His blue eyes stare, waiting as Bucky turns to look at him.

He simply replies “Sounds good, Stevie. I can call and you pick out the movie?” Steve nods before bending down to look at their collection of VHS tapes (they like those better than a million different streaming services.) He listens as Bucky orders, as he grabs their copy of Snow White. It always serves as a comfort, something connected to their time. He and Bucky went and seen it in the theater. Bucky had secretly saved a little extra to take Steve. Steve cherishes that memory, one of many.

Bucky for his part does everything in his power to not steal a glimpse of Steve’s ass in those leggings, scolding himself when he does anyways. Little does he know; Steve always takes any opportunity he can to check Bucky out. 

Once the pizza arrives, they settle onto the couch, and watch the movie. The pizza box starts between them, on the middle cushion as they eat. But halfway through the movie, Bucky can see Steve is shivering, the apartment still too cold for him and his body, that was lacking the ability to properly circulate his blood. He says quietly “Stevie…do you…” he blushes, embarrassed for what he is about to ask, turning his cheeks pink. He reminds himself that it is for Steve’s good. He continues. “Do you want to…cuddle?” Steve gives him a questioning look, so he quickly adds. ‘Because you're cold. I can tell you are shivering, man. Like when we were kids, you can steal my body heat. I’m basically a human radiator.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

But Steve, regardless, looks anxious as he tentatively nods, moving the pizza box to the floor as he scoots closer, moving very close to Bucky. He looks expectantly at the bigger man to raise his arm so he can press against him, hoping he doesn’t come off as desperate and weak. But Bucky smiles as he obliges, lifting his arm and pulling Steve to his side, arm fitting perfectly around him, like Bucky was made just for Steve. He wants to melt into the feeling. He wants Bucky to never let go.

Steve is careful to keep looking forward, to not let himself get distracted and drawn in by his friend. But it is hard. He has been in love with Bucky since he was 14 years old. He always walked a thin line between appreciating Bucky’s touch as a way to get warm, like when he was sick, or in the one bedroom tenement they were living in together didn’t have proper heat, and loving Bucky's touch as something more. Just wanting to feel Bucky's skin on his, even if it was a selfish little fantasy. But he always craved that touch. Even little things like when he would put his hand reassuringly on his shoulder, or when Bucky would playfully throw his arms around Steve.

But he noticed that since the serum, Bucky had touched him less. Less casually pulling him in by the shoulders and just walking with his arm around him, or climbing in bed to keep him warm. Obviously, he didn’t need that second one any more, but he was desperate for something. Anything. Sometimes he would just squeeze Bucky’s  shoulder, or pat him on the back just to feel him. Sometimes when Bucky had a nightmare, Steve would hold him, but that was only because Bucky was scared. No joy in that touch. On rare occasions  they would hug, and if he thought about it too long, he could swear something more was there.

Lost in his thoughts, he does not realize the movie has ended until Bucky yawns, snapping him out of his head. "Hey, Stevie I think I'm going to hit the hay. You should too, we are going down to see Bruce and Pepper early tomorrow. Night, man." Steve is still staring ahead but he feels Bucky start to untangle himself from him. As Bucky stands up, Steve does not want the sensation to end, not wanting to lose the touch he desperately needs, the only silver lining of this whole ordeal. 

Without putting any thought into it, he reaches for the bottom hem of Bucky's shirt as the other man had turned to walk away. Bucky freezes as Steve hurriedly lets go of his shirt, feeling ridiculous. Steve whispers in a voice that is barely audible. "Can I sleep with you? I'm cold." He feels guilty, knowing he isn't saying the whole truth. He is cold but could have done with a pile of blankets, they aren't in the depression anymore with only one blanket each. This was 2024 and they are way better off now. But he wasn't ready to lose Bucky's touch again.

Bucky clears his throat, suddenly hard to breathe, lump forming before he can swallow it down. Steve wants to sleep with him and Bucky wants this so bad. But he has to remind himself that this is for Steve to stay warm, not because he wanted him. His love fogged mind coupled with his own self-dislike, prevented him from putting together that Steve had blankets to keep him warm. He looks back to Steve, whose face seems torn by something,  maybe guilt? Bucky didn’t want his friend to feel guilty so he finally replies. "Of course, Stevie."

Steve’s eyes light up for a moment before he reminds himself not to be so…obvious. Bucky thinks he saw something but plays it off as Steve being relieved over Bucky not making this situation any more awkward. He watches Steve smile shyly as he gets off the couch silently, ready to follow him to his bedroom, so he leads the way.

Once in there, Steve just crawls into bed like it was nothing. He figured he might as well rip the bandage off and just do it. He stays completely dressed because he really was freezing in the apartment. Bucky on the other hand was extremely warm, not used to sleeping with the heat on so high. He doesn’t know how uncomfortable Steve would be if he slept in his boxers but decides to do it anyways. It would be more suspicious of him not to. He knows Steve isn’t dumb and has to realize that he would be extremely warm in these temperatures. 

So, Bucky slides out of his sweatpants and T-shirt, throwing them into his hamper. Steve tries his hardest not to watch, turning on his side to avert his eyes. He pretends to be preparing to fall asleep, but, in reality, he is attempting to bargain with his heart to not pound right out of his chest and fly away. They haven’t slept together in more than 80 years, not since before the war. 

While Steve is busy forcing himself to pretend to try and fall asleep, Bucky sneaks a look over at the blanket, letting himself smile at the lump under the hidden beneath, blonde hair peeking out. He makes his way over to the other side of his full-sized bed and slides in under the covers. It feels like the most normal thing in the world, like things are more normal than they have been in a long time. He reaches over, turning out the light, before scooting close to Steve. Again, he reminds himself that he is just helping him stay warm. He pulls Steve’s back against his chest, wrapping his arm over his hip. For a moment, Bucky wonders if he is over doing it, if this is too far for Steve. 

Steve forgets how to breathe for a moment when he feels himself pressed against Bucky’s body so tightly. He worries he may have an asthma attack. He doesn’t remember them ever being so close, well when they were awake that is. Usually they would only get like this in their sleep. Steve remembers one particular time when he was 19, when he woke up in this position, with the still sleeping brunette’s morning wood pressed against his ass. He had to force himself out of bed and into a cold shower after that. All of this is to say that his position really did something to him, and it took all his energy to keep his breath steady. 

They lay in the dark, quietly like this for a while. For all of Steve’s worry, and all of Bucky’s self-doubt over this, both men were content. Both men lie together, keeping their secrets, but cherishing this moment. They lay for a long while before it is obvious that neither man is sleeping. It may be subtle, but it was impossible to not feel the electricity that filled the air around them and every space in between them. It was an energy that has been there for a while.  It was something that should have been obvious from the start if it weren’t for the fact that both of them were painfully oblivious. 

Steve shifts in the bed, turning so he is facing Bucky. Even in the dark, Bucky could see the light blue tones that make up Steve's eyes. He would be lying if he didn't admit they were the most beautiful things he has ever seen. He has been around the world, has seen so many beautiful things, He has seen sparkling oceans, the large majestic sweeping expanses that surrounded Wakanda, tall, purple mountains throughout Europe, but nothing he could think of could make him feel the way he felt whenever he stared into Steve's eyes.

There are some things he has never admitted to Steve about his time as the Winter Soldier. One of these things being that every so often, he was able to bust through, have a moment of clarity before frozen again. In those moments of clarity, he would think of these eyes, of being home.  Staring into Steve's eyes, whether Steve was hulking and muscular, or skinny and small, felt like home to him.

Seeing him like this, back to the way he was prior to war has reminded Bucky that beneath all the bravado and responsibility that came with Captain America, he was still Steve. His Stevie. He knew that though, but he has been so wrapped up in guilt for all Steve has done for him, as well as countless atrocities he has committed as the Winter Soldier, he had refused to think about it. Refused to get comfortable. Refused to just be with Steve, always feeling less then, undeserving. 

Steve was like the sun, bright and powerful. Bucky had always been content to be sucked into Steve’s gravitational pull. He felt like Steve was the reason he existed, giving him life. He was just a planet who was lucky enough to be pulled in by the sun. But the sun didn’t need the planet that revolved around it, and he always felt that at some level, Steve didn’t need him. He was afraid that if he tried to be more than a planet, wanting more from the sun, Steve could easily destroy him, reject him. 

But Steve has been there all along for him, never changing. Bucky had fallen all those years ago, losing his sun, ripping through space aimlessly. The sun had fought, got himself trapped in ice in the name of his planet. Waking up in the future, getting new planets, people finally seeing what Bucky had seen all along in Steve. But as soon as Steve saw that his planet was alive, he was willing to rip his new galaxy apart like it was nothing, to pull his first little planet back in. 

Steve had always loved Bucky, and Bucky had been so wrapped up in the fear of losing his sun, that he never let himself appreciate that. Maybe...maybe it was okay for Bucky to want more out of their friendship...because maybe Steve wanted more.

He doesn't know what makes him do it, but he reaches towards Steve's face, and rests his flesh hand on the golden-haired man's face. Both lay perfectly still for a few seconds before Steve closes his and lets out an anguished sigh. When they open back up, Bucky sees a tear running down Steve’s face, worry is coating his features, his brow scrunched up in a way that Bucky just wants to reach up and smooth out. In a soft voice, the brunette asks "Stevie....what is it...."

Steve closes his eyes again, taking a pained sigh as he moves his own hand softly over the hand resting on his face, doing his best to hold on for a moment longer before he comes clean. "I don't want you to hate me..."

Bucky feels his chest tensing up, not knowing what could have prompted Steve to say that. "What makes you think I could ever hate you? I don't think that is possible. " Bucky replies truthfully.

"It’s...just..." Steve takes a deep breath, before sitting up and staring down at Bucky. Bucky frowns at the loss of contact before sitting up as well, facing the blonde who looked like he might break if Bucky stared too hard. He continues, "It's just, I didn’t need you to keep me warm, Buck."

"What?" Bucky stares back, genuine  confusion on his face.

"We have plenty of blankets now, I would have been fine in my own bed. But since this happened, earlier I hated it. I hated feeling small again, weak and sickly. But...there was some good. You...you were holding onto me again, like you would when we were younger….and I missed feeling your arms around me. " Steve is blushing like crazy. "And when we were on the couch, it felt so good for you to be holding onto me, and so I lied. I didn’t want it to end...so I told you I needed you to keep me warm. I'm so sorry, Buck. You must think I'm a freak." Steve takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling the covers off, readying himself to stand up. He stutters "I'm going to go to my own room now…I'd appreciate it if you never bring this up again. I am so sorry."

Bucky is confused, trying to put together what is happening. Before he could respond, Steve had shuffled out of his room, leaving him alone.

~

Steve drops onto his bed, mortified at himself. He really was pathetic, too scared to even stay and find out the fall out of what he has done. He just admitted to his best friend that he lied to him and used him all because of he wanted to be touched. He wishes he didn’t have this weird crush on him. But he does and for him it has always been Bucky, and probably will always be. It wasn't fair to push that on Bucky, though. He buries himself in blankets, dreading what the morning will bring. 

He lays there for a few minutes, mauling over what will happen. Will Bucky move out? Will he not talk to anymore? Did he just mess up everything? All the worse scenarios play in his mind like a horror movie. He feels a tear run down his face and he just lets it happen. Soon tears are covering his pillow,the dam broken, his body shaking. He feels like he will never stop, terrified he just lost his best friend.

He is so wrapped up in his own mess, he doesn't hear the door opening. But then he feels the nattress shift as someone gets inside the covers on the other side. He doesn't turn his head, afraid that he is just imagining it, that he is going to lose whatever is there if he looks. But then he hears "Hey Stevie…I'm cold."

Steve’s head is spinning, what is going on. He finally gets the nerve to turn around,  finding a beautiful brunette, his Bucky, smiling at him. "Buck….what are you doing?"

He softly replies "I just told you, I'm cold and need someone to cuddle with, is that okay?"

Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face as the last few rebel tears fall. Something tells him that the shirtless man in front of him was in no way cold, but he plays along. "Yea, its alright. Will alway be alright…."

With that, Bucky pulls Steve into his arms, Steve’s head falling onto his chest as the other man holds him close. Both men able to fiy fall asleep.

Maybe not quite a confession yet, but its babysteps. As long as they keep moving forward,they could take their time getting there.

[marveldeliversusps]

Prompt: New Hobby

Thanks for the prompt and political advocacy, @queenoftherandomword​! Hope you like it!

Prompt: Looks like somone has a new hobby

Pairing: Stucky, shrunkyclunks, background Sam/Nat

Rating: M

Art by @inflomora-art​. I’m obsessed with this pic. 

Steve heard a knock and rushed to the door. It was around three PM and his postal worker, Bucky, would be dropping off the mail soon. On days when he wasn’t too busy, Bucky would stick around and chat with Steve for a few minutes. Those were the best days.

Mailman Bucky was beyond hot. He had a cleft chin with a bit of softness under it, wrinkles from smiling and sparkling grey eyes. He was so beautiful he even made the dumb postal worker hat look good.

When Steve pulled the door open, he found Natasha standing there expectantly. He tried to close the door but she put her foot inside the house. He set his shoulder against the door so she could push her way in.

“Nice to see you, Steve.”

Steve took a steadying breath in. He loved Natasha and looked forward to being around her. Since he’d retired from the superhero business and given the shield to Sam, time with Nat had been in short supply. However, she was perceptive and insatiably curious. If she was around when Bucky arrived, she’d sniff out Steve’s secret crush right away. Or find the numerous unopened boxes in his bedroom that he didn’t want to explain.

“Natasha,” he said.

“That’s all?”

Steve held tight onto the door. A moment of confusion or indecision would be just enough for her to elbow her way inside. This is why he needed more non-spy friends.

“Nice to see you, as always.”

Natasha rolled her eyes so dramatically her eyelashes fluttered. “What you mean to say is I’m sorry that I stood you and Sam up for our lunch date at Hot Lips pizza today, and that you two had to wait for forty-five minutes, and I can’t believe I didn’t respond to your text messages.”

Steve closed his eyes in embarrassment. “I totally forgot. I’m sorry, Nat.”

“It’s alright, Steve,” Natasha said, brushing non-existent lint from Steve’s shoulder. “I know you have other commitments. Maybe we could hang out now?”

Steve did want to spend time with her, just not for another hour when there was no risk of her meeting Bucky. Since getting together, Sam and Natasha were both happier, more fluid and less locked into decades-long patterns, but it certainly made Steve’s life more difficult. Their attempts at teasing him or caretaking were coordinated and ruthless. Loving, but ruthless.

“Now’s not a good time,” Steve said. “How about Friday you and Sam come over for a movie night?”

Natasha smiled sweetly, all her deadly angles covered by softness. She squeezed Steve’s hand gently, then dug her fingers into his wrist, making him yelp and stumble backward. As soon as Steve faltered, she charged inside and started looking around the living room. When Steve subtly positioned himself between her and the stairs to his bedroom, Natasha clocked his actions immediately. She slipped past his outstretched hands and hustled upstairs.

“Goddammit, Nat!”

Once she entered Steve’s bedroom, Natasha stopped abruptly and looked at all the unopened boxes lining the walls. “Huh.”

Steve nearly slammed into her back in his rush to beat her to the bedroom and had to grab onto the doorframe to stop himself. Natasha tilted her head to the side as if she was trying to solve a puzzle.

“What were you expecting?” Steve said.

Natasha’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know. A hot man or woman. A sex dungeon. Porn. Not a million boxes from…” she picked one up and squinted at it. “REI? What the hell, Steve?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth, not quite ready to tell the truth. The first package had been an actual order, a new pair of running shoes from an outdoor store he discovered. But then when Bucky had delivered them, REI (Recreation Equipment Inc) was apparently his favorite store, and it had given them something to chat about.

Steve had taken to buying gear from there once a week and planned his schedule to be home with the packages arrived, just so he could talk with Bucky. He’d even been working up the courage to suggest a hike together.

“I checked all the rooms downstairs,” Sam said out of nowhere.

Steve’s shoulders slumped. Of course, Sam and Natasha would be working together. They never went on ops alone anymore. Not since she was captured by AIM, and Sam leveled three blocks of downtown Mobile, Alabama to save her.

Steve should have never suggested Nat ask Sam out. Or introduced them. Or joined the Avengers.  

“Nice to see you,” Steve quipped.

Sam winked at him, the cheeky asshole. He knew Steve couldn’t stay mad at him long. “Not my fault,” Sam said, as he walked into the room. “You ditched us. And if you had just told Tasha what you were hiding--”

“I can have secrets,” Steve said petulantly.

Meanwhile, Natasha was walking around the room and shaking boxes. They all had the REI logo on the side: Sustainable Gear Built to Last. She retrieved a knife from her boot, ripped open a box and pulled out a 9.8mm Dry-Core climbing rope. It was bright yellow with red x’s on it, and Steve had picked it because he liked the design. “Is this for an outside sex dungeon?”

“Stop thinking everything is about sex!” Steve snapped. Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and Steve immediately felt bad. Before he could apologize to Natasha, she waived him off. Sam sat down on Steve’s bed and pulled out his own knife. He never used to have a million knives on him, probably Natasha’s influence.

“Do people know Captain America sneaks into people’s houses with knives?” Steve said.

Sam shrugged and carefully opened a package. “People don’t know a damn thing about me I don’t want them to know, because my girlfriend is a badass.”

A paranoid badass, Steve thought. But he had the self-preservation to keep that to himself.

Sam pulled out a Lavender Harness with yellow daisies stitched to the side. “Petzl Luna Harness,” he read off the side. “Steve, this is a woman’s harness.”

Steve crossed his arms, because he had aced his Women’s Studies class, thank you very much. “All the harnesses for women were pink and had flowers on them, and I thought that was very gender essentialist of them, so I bought it for myself in protest.”

“I’m sure they heard you loud and clear,” Sam said dryly.

They slowly unpacked all of Steve’s packages: another harness, two more ropes, a crash pad, carabiners, and several metal things Steve didn’t know the name of. After each item, Natasha looked at Steve expectantly, and he steadily denied that it was for a sex dungeon.

Next came a Marmot 1 person tent, that Steve would have to curl up in sideways to fit, a backpack, and a head lamp. He had more things he needed, but he wanted to spread the orders out.

“Why didn’t you open any of this stuff?” Sam said.

Exhausted with their questions, Steve flopped dramatically onto the floor, and he didn’t need to look up to know Sam and Natasha were doing synchronized eye rolls. “I don’t know how to use it yet!” Most of it he’d selected because he liked the colors or the philosophy of the companies. He had no idea if all the gear even all worked together. “It’s outdoor gear because my mailman likes to rock climb, and he’s hot, and I want to climb him like a tree.”

Natasha grinned triumphantly, and proclaimed, “So this is about sex!”

Steve didn’t respond, just slowly banged his head on the floor. Maybe if he blacked out they would leave him alone.

“Well, well,” Sam said.

“Don’t do that,” Steve snapped.  

“Looks like someone has a new hobby.”

Natasha leaned against Sam and giggled. It was so damn cute that Steve couldn’t decide if he wanted to wrap them in Christmas paper or throw them outside.

He almost missed the knock at the door.

“Steve,” Bucky called in. “Your door was left open. Just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

Steve shot an annoyed look at Sam who grinned unrepentantly. “Barton’s watching the entrance.” Steve should've guessed that, too. He half expected them to turn into a throuple any day now.

Natasha ignored them again, moving lightning fast to charge downstairs.

“Steve,” Bucky called again. “Hi,” he said, presumably when he saw Natasha. “Just checking in. I have a package for Steve.”

“I’m sure you do,” Natasha said meaningfully as she took the box from Bucky.

Steve made a racket in his haste to prevent Natasha from saying anything more embarrassing and landed at the door framing breathing heavily with a wild look in his eyes. Natasha, naturally, looked calm and composed.

“You must be Bucky,” Natasha said, extending her dainty hand. “Steve can’t stop talking about you.”

Steve’s cheeks immediately flamed hot, and the only saving grace was that Bucky’s cheeks pinked up adorably, too.

“Oh.” Bucky didn't elaborate further even though Steve really, really wanted him to. Was that a good oh or a bad oh? An oh or an /oh/?

Before Steve could follow up, Sam came up behind him and clapped an arm on his shoulder.

“Captain America!” Bucky exclaimed when he saw Sam. Oh no, no no no no, Steve thought. “You’re my hero! I mean, I’m an adult so not like hero hero, but it’s. Whew. It’s an honor.”

Sam grinned that warm, gap toothed smile that made old ladies weak in the knees, and he shook Bucky’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Did you serve?”

Bucky nodded, shrugging his shoulders shyly. “Yeah, two tours and all that, and you know, the post office is the number one employer of vets, so I’m here doing this. Helps to have the arm.” He pointed at his black and gold prosthetic.  Thanks for promoting that program by the way.”

Steve didn’t pout, but his inner toddler was stamping his foot. He only got a few minutes to talk to Bucky each week, and Sam was hogging all his time.

Natasha had magicked some popcorn out of nowhere, there hadn’t been any in Steve’s cupboard, and was obnoxiously monching it and watching the three of them. Knowing her, she’d probably known all of this was going to happen and brought the popcorn along as a prop.

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Bucky said to Sam, “but could I get a picture?”

Sam nodded, turning to Steve with a shit eating grin. “Steve, would you mind taking a pic of us?”

Steve took Bucky’s camera. He stepped on Sam’s foot while he arranged them for the photo, because he had called dibs on Bucky, and Sam already had Natasha. “You know . . . I’ve been retired for a while.” Because if Sam could play the Captain America card, so could he. Bucky had never brought it up, so perhaps he hadn’t recognized him.

Bucky smiled softly. “I know, Steve.”

Oh, well. That was a different thing entirely. Bucky had known who Steve was all along and had never made him feel uncomfortable about it. Steve smiled back at him and took the picture.

Once they were done, Natasha leaned toward Bucky. “Tell me, Bucky, how long have you and Steve been getting to know one another.”

Steve was 100% sure that was her code for sex dungeon activities, which, what in the hell did she and Sam get up to in their free time? Nevermind, he didn’t want to know.

They didn’t call Steve the greatest strategist of his time for nothing. He subtly scooted over, forcing Natasha to lean back.

“We’ve only recently become friends,” Steve said. The blood rushed to his cheeks again when he realized what he’d said. Bucky probably had to be friendly with everyone while he was working, that didn’t mean he and Steve were friends. “I mean, I think we are.”

The sides of Bucky’s eyes crinkled adorably as he grinned. “Yeah, we’re friends, Steve.” He paused and glanced at Sam and Natasha before settling back on Steve. “Actually,” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, making his terrible round hat fall forward. He righted it quickly and said, “I was wondering if you’d like to go climbing this Saturday. I could show you the cool spots with not too many people, and--”

“Steve doesn’t know how to climb,” Natasha said around another mouthful of popcorn. “You should take me and Sam along to teach him. And Clint, too. Maybe Tony would want to come.”

By the grace of all that was good and holy, Sam had mercy and pulled Natasha away from the door whispering, “Stop cockblocking my best friend.”

Once Nat and Sam were out of earshot, Steve met Bucky’s eyes and grimaced. “I was looking for new hobbies, and when I ordered shoes you brought up climbing, and like an idiot I said I liked it too. because you are so handsome, and my brain turned into mush, and then I just didn’t want to stop talking to you.”

“I know,” Bucky said interrupting Steve’s rambling. His eyes sparkled as he grinned. “You once called a grigri a carabiner.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Exactly.” Bucky stepped closer, his expression turning mischievous. Steve could never, ever let him and Natasha become friends. “Wanna go on a date with me?” He was so close now, Steve could pick out the flecks of silver and black in his grey eyes.

Steve got lost staring until he realized Bucky had been waiting too long for a response. He didn’t seem to mind, his smile only getting wider.

“I really do want to learn to rock climb,” Steve blurted out to stop himself from saying something ridiculous like, please fuck me in your uniform.

Bucky tilted his chin back and laughed, mesmerizing Steve with the movement of his throat.

“How about we do both?” Bucky said, laughter dying down as he scooted closer.

Steve leaned down and said, “I’d like that,” against Bucky’s lips, the moment before they kissed. Distantly, he heard the sounds of Natasha and Sam cheering, but he blocked them out in favor of gripping Bucky’s hip and pulling their bodies flush against one another.

“The man has to work,” Sam called out. “Don’t get freaky and delay the mail.”

Bucky pulled back and patted Steve’s shoulder. “See you soon, Stevie.”

After he left, Steve collapsed on the couch next to Sam, heady with the experience, until a sudden realization left him cold.

“I forgot to get his number.”

Sam waved him off, and pointed at the kitchen where Nat was rifling through Steve’s cabinets. “Don’t worry. Tasha has it already.”

Steve groaned. Of course she did. And if by some chance she didn’t, Steve could always order another box from REI.

---

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