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bluebeary-jay · 2 years ago

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If I could hold you for a minute

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier wants nothing more than to go home to you. And thanks to his partner's generosity, he gets to.

Tags: just pure FLUFF, mayyybe a sprinkle of suggestive humor, established relationship, Steve teases Javi a bunch, Javier is a BIG SIMP (i'm serious)

Warnings: none ♡

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: something different for you guys 🙈 i'm sadly still on semi-hiatus because of my finals, but I managed to finish this little fic as a break from my angsty Joel pieces. i reaaaally hope you all will like it 😌💕 also, it's dedicated to my dumbass in crime @lily-inbloom 🫡😘 luv you babes

This was one of the worst days agent Peña had in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to go home.

First, two people from Escobar’s inner circle managed to escape the raid on the laboratory in which he and Murphy participated, leaving both of them exhausted and frustrated. Then Melissa gave Javier a bunch of shit because of some documents, and on the way to his desk some asshole bumped into him, making him drop and break his phone. And now they had to stay after hours to wait for Carrillo.

“It’s for you, Peña.”

So yeah. His day was shit so far.

His pity party was cut short when Steve sitting across from him hissed his name again. Javier shot him an irritated look and flipped him off, not in the mood to talk to any informants or their superiors.

“Not now, Murphy,” he grumbled, but his partner still handed him the stationary telephone from their desk, ignoring the hostility radiating from the man.

“Just take it, asshole. She’s worried you’re not answering her calls.”

At that, Javi sat up straight and in a split second took the handset from Steve, pressing it to his ear.

“¿Querida?” he asked quietly, paying no attention to Murphy rolling his eyes and chuckling to himself. There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Hi, Javi,” your voice came through the receiver. “You weren’t picking up.”

Almost instantly the tension was lifted from Javier’s shoulders and he exhaled deeply. You had a talent of putting him at ease, even when you weren’t by his side.

“Lo siento, cariño. Some idiot broke my… you know what, it doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just wanted to ask when you finish work? I can swing by and we can go grab some food on the way home.”

He sighed tiredly, rubbing his brows. He hated saying no to you and if he could, Javi would give you the world on a silver platter – but some things, he didn’t have any control over.

“No sé, cariño. We have a shitton of papers to read with Steve, and we’re waiting for Carrillo to fill us in on the latest action. I’ve got no idea how long it’s gonna take, sweetheart.”

Steve lifted his head and shot Javier a teasing look, but Peña ignored him, turning his chair to the side.

“Alright, so what do you say I’ll bring you some takeout? You can also ask Steve what he’d want, I’ll be at this place we went to a week ago–”

“No, querida, no,” he sighed, this time with affection. Your voice was a temptation enough to throw everything to hell and run home to you, but to hear the kindness and love in your words, without even seeing your expression… It was heart-clenching. “We don’t need anything, you just go back home safely. I’ll try to get away from here as soon as I can.”

You didn’t answer at first, but then hummed half-heartedly.

“If you say so. But please, eat something.”

Javi smiled absentmindedly, covering his eyes with his fingers. He imagined your concerned expression, the receiver nestled next to your ear, near the spot he so liked to nuzzle with his nose. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

He could hear a trace of a smirk in your voice.

“I know you, Peña.”

“Too well, I think.”

“You love it, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe.” He heard you yawn and the smile disappeared from his face. “You’re tired.”

“No, I’m not. I’ll get to bed when you’re back.”

“I won’t be home for at least a couple more hours, sweetheart,” Javi told you softly. “You can go to sleep.”

“I’ll wait for you,” you repeated stubbornly.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, cariño.” There was that sweet, teasing note in your tone, and a grin spread across Javier’s face again. “But that will just give you more reasons to come home quickly.”

“I’ll try,” he just offered in a whisper, resting his forehead on his fist. “Call Steve if anything happens, alright?”

“Okay, okay, I will.” Long since gone were the times you’d argue with him about that. You knew how terrified he was at the thought of losing you. “I love you, baby.”

“También te amo.”

He didn’t immediately hang up, waiting just in case you wanted to add something else. The line went dead, however, and with his lips pressed Javi put the phone back in the center of the desk.

“You have it bad, Peña.”

Of course. Javier should’ve known Steve will start to nag at him again.

He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and put it between his lips. He knew you’d complain about the smell on his hair and clothes when he got home, but he was already too stressed out and in a desperate need of a smoke.

“I’m not in the mood, Murphy,” he muttered, pulling out the lighter.

“I thought a conversation with your sweetheart would brighten up your day?”

Javier looked up and just as he suspected, Steve had that same stupid grin on his face, like every time the topic was brought up.

Ever since your and Javi’s relationship became more serious, Steve was taking every opportunity to tease his partner. If Javi was feeling generous, he could kind of understand where his friend is coming from – after all, he himself didn’t think he’d ever act like a dumb teenage boy in the presence of a woman. But something about you mesmerized him from the very beginning, and, miraculously, here you both were, in a steady and loving relationship Javier Peña was always afraid of hoping for.

But alas, it was not a day to be understanding. He glared at Steve when the fellow agent didn’t take a hint.

“Shut up.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a food delivery, you know,” Steve spoke up with a smirk under his mustache. “I’m quite hungry.”

“I’ll sooner hire Escobar to make you sandwiches than let her do it.”

“You wound me, Javi. And to think I was about to take care of Carrillo and let you go home early.”

Javier looked up in surprise at his friend’s knowing smile. Then he blinked, slowly and tiredly, wondering if he didn’t misheard.

“Really?” he asked suspiciously, to which Steve shrugged.

“Why not? I’m in no rush since Connie and Olivia are in Miami, and as funny as it is to watch you yearn and pine, your brooding gets annoying after a while.” Javi didn’t move from his place, so Steve nodded in the direction of the exit. “Just go home to her, Peña. Before I change my mind.”

The face of the agent broke into a smile before he could collect himself. He stood up so quickly that he bumped his hip against the desk, but it didn’t phase him one bit. With a quick shove across the desktop, he swept all the documents to the folder and took his gun from the drawer, tucking it into his jeans.

Murphy was watching him with a smirk.

“You owe me, Javi.”

“Sure,” his partner replied over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll get you a sandwich tomorrow.”

A quiet laugh followed him when Peña promptly ran out of their office.

*****

After the call with Javi you tried to find yourself an occupation, intending to stay up as long as you could. He was working like crazy lately, sometimes not even coming home for the night, so a chance to finally spend some time with him – even if it would only be for half an hour – was something you didn’t want to miss.

So you wandered around his apartment. You read a little, watched TV, tidied up the cutlery drawer, folded Javi’s shirts, and now you got onto washing the dishes left from your dinner two days ago.

You were humming quietly, that stupid song which seemed to play on every radio as of late, when you heard a small sound from the hall. You paused and turned off the tap, your heart pounding in your chest, and sure enough there was it again – but this time you clearly recognized it as a key turning in the lock.

Before you could think of what to do, the door opened and Javi came in, locking eyes with you immediately. You blinked slowly, rooted to the spot with your hands lifted, still covered in water and soapsuds.

“Javi?” you asked in surprise. “What are you doin–”

Without saying a word, Javier came up to you in two long strides and put his hands around your waist, dipping you back and kissing you deeply. You made a noise in your throat, moving your wet hands aside, but then sighed contentedly as his lips caressed yours.

“I missed you, cariño. So much,” Javier murmured, not moving further away from your lips than two millimeters apart. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“But what about– Steve, and…” you tried to ask during those brief moments when he gave you a second to take a breath, but was unable (and unwilling) to move away when he was holding you so tightly.

“They’ll be fine,” Javier murmured, moving his hands to your cheeks to cradle them tenderly. “Steve said he’ll handle it.”

He firmly pressed his lips to yours one more time, his eyebrows scrunched with affection. You didn’t ask anything else, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, still careful not to get his clothes wet. After almost a minute of tender kisses and whispered Spanish phrases, Javi rested his forehead against yours with a content sigh. His eyes were closed and he just hummed when you nudged his nose with yours.

“You weren’t supposed to be home for the next few hours,” you said quietly.

“It was a damn torture. I couldn’t wait, hermosa,” he murmured and exhaled heavily. “God, I needed this.”

A bright smile spread across your face at the thought of this man thinking about and longing to see you so much. He sounded so stressed out and tired over the phone, but now it was like all nerves left him for just a moment.

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” you asked in a whisper, but Javi shook his head.

“No. Just stay here.”

“I have to rinse the dishwashing liquid off my hands, though. And you need to take a shower.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“A little. But I mostly mean the cigarette smoke on your hair.”

Javi sighed, murmuring something under his breath. You gave him a peck on the lips. “Go on, cariño. I’ll get everything ready and then we can lay down.”

Javier grumbled, displeased, but didn’t argue any further. “You’ll have to make it up to me, sweetheart.”

“If you manage to keep your eyes open.” Your comment made him crack a smile and you mirrored it. “Go shower. And then come back to me.”

Javi sighed but obediently went towards the bathroom, putting down his aviators and the gun on the table on the way there. You watched him fondly, your heart still swelling with love at how relieved he looked to see you. He must’ve felt your attention on him, somehow, because he turned around in the doorway and sent you a smirk.

“If you like the view so much, you can hop into the shower with me,” he teased, and you hummed, pretending to consider it.

“I would, but then it wouldn’t be a ‘quick shower’.” He smiled knowingly, and you scrunched your nose at him. “Javi, the longer you stand here, the less time we’ll have for cuddles.”

“You raise a good point, hermosa.”

With one last look he disappeared in the bathroom and you shook your head at his antics. A few seconds later you heard the sound of rushing water, so you hurried to your shared bedroom to get everything ready.

You pulled down the blinds and flipped the pillows to the colder side, and then swiftly changed into one of Javier’s shirts you liked to sleep in. You also took his gun from the table, knowing he preferred to have it within reach when he was resting with you.

Earlier that day you started to clean the cupboards, so the room was pretty messy. You spent a couple of minutes putting the piles of clothes and various knick knacks in their places, trying to be as quick as possible. Then you heard the water in the bathroom stopping, and it only took Javi two more minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in nothing but his boxers.

His hair was wet and chest bare, and exhaustion was marking his handsome features, painting shadows over his face. Without a second of hesitation Javi went up to you and wrapped his arms around your middle. You wanted to say that you’ll be done in a moment, but didn’t get a chance – he hid his face in the crook of your neck, grumbling tiredly, and started dragging you backwards to the bed. You swat at him with laughter, but those strong arms of his just held onto you tighter.

“Cariño, I still have to finish–”

“Leave it. You don’t have to do anything.”

“Javi…”

“Come lay with me, mi sol.” He softly pressed his lips to the sensitive skin on your neck, making you shiver. You felt him smirking. “Come on. Please.”

You faltered at this word, so rarely used by him. He sighed into your shoulder and swayed you two gently from side to side.

Javi was right. Everything else could wait.

You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed his knuckles gently, feeling him relax behind your back.

“Alright,” you murmured. “Come here, baby.”

He hummed and kissed your neck again, then your shoulder, sneaking his hands under your – technically his – shirt.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you look in my clothes?” he asked quietly.

“Every time I wear it.” You felt him take a breath, but you beat him to it. “And don’t say they’d look even better on the floor.”

Javi chuckled and hugged you tighter, still slowly moving backwards with you. “Not this time. Just wanna have you in my arms.”

“You mean in your bed?” You couldn’t help but tease him, and yelped when he bit your neck lightly.

“Don’t tempt me.”

When you two reached the bed, Javi stopped and slowly turned you around before sitting down. You took his face in your hands, staring down at him lovingly, while he gently ran his palms up and down your thighs. He did look tired, with the exhaustion and sadness swimming in his beautiful dark eyes. After a moment he exhaled shakily and leaned forward, resting his forehead on your stomach.

“Wanna lie down?” you whispered softly, and he nodded without a word. “Okay. Come here.”

You gently released yourself from his hold and laid down, immediately reaching for Javier and tugging him to lay on top of you.

The moment his head touched your chest, Javi exhaled heavily with relief, closing his eyes. You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing the wet strands aside.

“Do you need anything?” you asked quietly, but he just muttered 'no' with a light shake of his head.

“I’ve got everything I need right here, querida.”

You grinned warmly, though he couldn’t see it. “You’re quite a romantic, Javier Peña.”

He chuckled under his breath, lifting himself slightly to meet your adoring gaze. “I thought you already knew all about it.”

“Did I?” you asked playfully, to which he lifted his head.

“What more can I tell you?” he murmured, leaning over you and smirking when your breath hitched in your throat. His brown irises danced across your face, drinking your features in. “Do you wanna hear how all I think about while working are your lips and the sound of your laugh? How the time spent together isn’t nearly enough for me to fully revel in you? Or…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you said sheepishly, making Javi grin victoriously. “You’re probably spending that time in the office not thinking about me but of ways to mess with me.”

“Tal vez, mi sol.” He pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and moved lower, whispering into your skin. “But I do wish I could spend more time with you.”

“I know, cariño.” You brushed his hair to the back with your fingers, scratching his occiput. “But it’s not your fault.”

He hummed without conviction, still busy kissing every inch of your skin he could reach. One of his hands went to your waist, his thumb tracing small circles there, while the other climbed up to your hand, entwining your fingers together.

“Didn’t you want to get some rest?” you asked breathlessly, trying to keep your composure. Your face was hot, and Javi hummed smugly at the pitch of your voice. He lifted his head and brushed your cheek with his knuckles, his hand still holding yours.

“I wanted to spend time con mi hermoso sol.” He touched his forehead to yours lovingly, gazing deeply into your eyes. “I was serious when I said you’re all I need.”

“I think you need some sleep, too.”

Javi grumbled, seemingly giving in, and kissed you sleepily one last time. His eyes were already closing and his mustache scratched your skin lightly.

“No, querida. Just you.”

*****

The next morning, Steve came to work to the sight of Javier trapping you with his arms against his desk. He was leaving soft pecks on your lips every once in a while – so unlike the Peña Murphy had known before – murmuring something to you with a smile, causing you to giggle, too. You tried to slip out of his grasp, but Javier just pulled you closer. The pair was obviously lost in the moment because neither of them noticed Steve, until he threw a pile of files onto his desk.

“Morning, guys,” he said nonchalantly, eyeing your bashful beam and Javi’s crooked smile with a smirk. He noted that his partner looked way better than yesterday. “D’you get any sleep?”

“Actually, I did.” Javier gazed over at you and squeezed your hand with this look of a lovesick puppy that Steve mocked so often. “Don’t remember the last time I’ve slept so well.”

“Happy to hear it, because we have a lot to do today.” He sat down and began organizing the notes from Carrillo’s report yesterday, wanting to fill his partner in as soon as possible. He heard Peña sigh.

“Of course.” He glanced up to see the other man stand up and kiss you lovingly – once, twice – before you lightly shoved him back onto the armchair. Steve rolled his eyes when Javi brought your hand to his lips, leaving one last lingering kiss, and then finally letting go of you.

“I’m gonna be late because of you,” you accused him, but he only smirked.

“Lo siento, cariño. Have a good day.”

You said your goodbyes to Steve and turned back to the exit. Murphy shook his head and met his partner’s dark eyes, sparkling with adoration.

“You really have it bad, Peña.”

He didn’t receive any answer, so he just smiled to himself and got back to arranging his desk.

He didn’t get a second of peace, however, because suddenly a paper bag was dropped on the documents he was just filing. Two – a bit squashed – sandwiches were peeking out from the brown paper.

Steve lifted his head, ready to throw another teasing comment, but Javier’s eyes – still full of that raw love – were focused solely on your figure leaving their office.

*****

querida - dear/darling

lo siento, cariño - I’m sorry, darling/honey

no sé - I don’t know

también te amo - I love you, too

hermosa - beautiful

mi sol - my sun/sunshine

tal vez - maybe

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x you #narcos #javier pena fluff #narcos fanfiction #he's probably a little ooc but i read and reread it so many times that idk what words are anymore #javier pena x y/n

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delicatebarness · 8 months ago

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The Barnes-Rogers Family Adventures | Peter's Birthday

Summary: The family throws a party for Peter's birthday.

Warnings: This post and series are safe for work (SFW) regressions. Nothing explicit. However, please be aware that the rest of my blog is NOT. NSFW accounts are welcome to read and reblog, but please keep all comments SFW out of consideration for other littles.

Word Count: 823

Series Masterlist

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY @uhmellamoanna - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @sapphirebarnes | Let me know if you want to be tagged specifically for this series.

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

The excitement in the air was palpable, especially as Peter’s birthday dawned bright and early. Bucky and Steve had been planning a special party for the mischievous one of their littles for weeks. Adorned with balloons, streamers, and a giant banner that read, “Happy Birthday, Peter!” the backyard was perfect for the event.

Steve was busy putting the finishing touches on a homemade cake decorated with Star Wars characters, while Bucky set up party games on the patio. Trying to sneak a taste of the icing, you were stuck to Steve’s side.

“Hey, no more icing, baby,” Steve gently scolded, catching your wrist mid-swipe. “We need to save some for the cake.”

Giggling, your face was covered in blue and red frosting. “Okay, Papa.”

Already bursting with excitement, Peter bounded into the kitchen. “Is it party time, yet?” he asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

“Almost, buddy,” Bucky said, ruffling Peter’s hair as he entered to kitchen. “Want to come help me set up the last few things outside?”

Nodding, Peter eagerly followed Bucky out to the backyard. A bounce house had been inflated and he had set up a table with snacks, drinks, and party favors.

The backyard was soon filled with laughter and chatter of friends and family. Peter’s friends from the daycare and the Avengers compound came out with their respected caregivers. Mr Stark even brought over a drone that hovered around and took photos, and videos of the event.

The littles played in the bounce house and ran around the yard for hours. Steve decided it was time to bring out the cake, and everyone gathered around to sing “Happy Birthday.” Peter’s little face lit up as he made a wish, blowing out the candles.

“What did you wish for, Bubba?” You asked, your small voice mumbled over your pacifier.

Peter grinned. “I can’t tell you, tiny! It won’t come true!”

The cake was devoured in moments and it came time for presents. Eagerly tearing into brightly wrapped packages, Peter beamed at the Lego sets, Star Wars toys, and finger paintings from you.

His face glowed with happiness as he exclaimed, “Thank you, everyone!”

As the sun started to set, the party began to wind down. Steve and Bucky started to clear up around the backyard. Gathering wrapped paper, discarded plates, and paper cups as you and Peter sat on the grass. You played together with Peter’s new toys and trinkets, enjoying the last moments of his day.

It wasn’t long before you were tugging on Peter’s sleeve. “Sleepy,” you said, your eyes half-lidded with exhaustion.

Peter looked around, his eyes searching for Steve and Bucky. “Do you want me to take you to Papa and Daddy?” he asked.

You nodded, stifling a yawn.

He stood from his spot on the grass, taking your hand and leading you over to the patio. “Papa, Daddy, she’s sleepy,” he announced.

Scooping you up, Bucky cradled you gently. “Let’s get you to bed, princess,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead. “It’s been a long day.”

Steve walked over and ruffled Peter’s hair. “How about… once Daddy has Tiny all settled in bed, the three of us watch a movie?”

Peter’s eyes brightened with excitement as he nodded, running into the house and heading straight for the living room.

Your head rested against Bucky’s shoulder as he climbed the stairs to your bedroom. As he helped you into your pajamas, you looked up at him with sleepy eyes. “Did Bubba have a good birthday, Daddy?”

Bucky smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “He had a wonderful day, Baby.”

You murmured something inaudible as you nestled into your bed with your favorite wolf plush toy. Bucky tucked you in, turning on your night light and white noise machine.

“Sweet dreams, Baby,” he whispered as he pressed another kiss against your forehead. With a content sigh, you already began drifting off to sleep as he quietly left your room and closed the door.

Meanwhile, Peter was sitting on the couch in the living room, flicking through the movies on Disney. Steve smiled as sat down for what felt like the first time all day, and opened his arms for Peter to climb into his lap.

“Can we watch Star Wars?” Peter asked, his eyes sparkled at the hope.

“Anything for the birthday boy,” Steve replied, gently taking the remote from Peter to locate the movie.

Bucky joined them shortly after, settling in beside Steve, draping an arm around him. He reassured Steve that you were settled and asleep before placing a kiss on top of Peter’s head.

About halfway through the movie, Peter's eyelids drooped. The caregivers exchanged a knowing look as they listened to his soft snores. Steve gently shifted Peter so he was resting more comfortably against his chest.

“We did good today,” Bucky said softly.

Steve nodded, a wide smile spread across his lips. “Yeah, we did.”

---

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sarahowritesostucky · 1 year ago

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📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4042

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

5. Jiggly Soufflé Cake

Steve

“I should be in there,” Bucky says again, making Steve roll his eyes.

They’re sitting next to each other, out in the waiting room at the Center. It’s been over an hour, but Steve remembers how the intake worker had told them that Mary’s evaluation wouldn’t be short. Already, he’s read through half the crappy magazine selection. He lets the edge of an outdated issue of Dominant Monthly flop down to his lap. “Babe …”

“It’s taking too long. What if they’re harassing her or—”

“You know that’s not true. The people here are good. You’re just trying to control everything,” he reminds Bucky.

“If I was in there I could—”

“Get in the way. She needs to feel like she can express herself.”

“What if she’s not honest? What if Linda’s not asking her the right—”

“Buck, stop,” Steve says, injecting some command into his voice. Bucky might be the Dom, but Steve can put his foot down with his husband when needed. “The therapist knows what she’s doing. All the people here do. This is what they do.”

They’re at the Center for Designated Peoples, the place where people like Bucky go for … well, anything related to their dominance or submission needs. That’s all Steve really knows. He knows that Bucky has been in and out of CDPs since he was a kid. “It took almost a week to get her this appointment, alright? You want to mess that up?”

Bucky grumbles. “No.”

“Good. Cause they don’t need you in there, interfering in her assessment. So sit tight.”

Bucky shuts up after that, satisfying Steve that he’s made his point.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky eventually says, when another ten minutes have passed and the door to the therapist’s office is still closed. “Of her?”

Steve glances over. “You mean in general?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Steve can tell when Bucky’s being defensive. “You like her,” he says. “And not just cause of her lemon tarts.” He’d seen him looking at weighted blankets on Amazon, yesterday. “Admit it,” he prods, nudging Bucky’s shoe with his. “You can tell me how you feel. Why d’you need me to qualify it for you, first?

“Because I’m married to you, not her,” Bucky snaps. “Jesus, Rogers. Never met a man with less self-preservation instincts than you.”

“Mmhm. Aand?”

“... Okay I’m drawn to her,” Bucky says. “But I can’t tell how much of that is instinct and how much is normal people stuff.”

“‘Normal people stuff’,” Steve echoes, amused.

“I want to know what you think of her.” Bucky kicks his shoe back. “Tell me.”

“I like her too,” Steve concedes. “It’s not just you.” He can see as Bucky’s shoulders relaxing a little bit, knows that his opinion matters to his husband. “She’s different. Plain, but …” Steve searches for the right word. ‘Cute’ doesn’t seem right. She’s too prickly for that and too old besides. She’s a woman, not a girl, and he’s not just trying to describe her physical appearance. “I don’t know,” he says. “Editorial?”

“Editorial?” Bucky scowls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I dunno, just, not off the rack. Different.” Bucky snatches the magazine out of his lap and chucks it back to the coffee table. Steve rolls his eyes. “Wish she wasn’t so defensive, though. And I wish we could’ve met her … you know, like on a date or at the gym or something.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah.”

“She grows on you,” Steve decides. Like an angry, stray cat. That’s dirty and scraggy a little.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky offers, but the words fall flat. They can both see that she’s attractive, that isn’t news. Bucky and Steve are attractive people themselves. They aren’t hurting for opportunities to be with attractive women (or men), if they want to. And it’s been a while since they invited another person into their bed. But …

“I haven’t been with a woman since my twenties,” Steve mumbles, thinking about it. He glances at Bucky. “You have.”

They both know Bucky was dating women casually when he met Steve, years ago. “Yeah,” he says simply.

“You ever miss ‘em? Women?” Steve kind of does sometimes. He likes how soft they are; the contrast. It had taken him a couple of dates and a few glasses of wine, back when they’d first gotten together, to admit to Bucky that he was bi. Steve had told him that, and then Bucky had disclosed his designation status. “We used to talk about the whole poly thing a lot more.”

“Hm, yeah I guess.” Bucky shrugs and reaches to take his hand. Steve gives it a squeeze. “I dunno babe. Kind of hard to think about anybody else when I’ve got you around.” He gives him a lecherous look that makes Steve glad they’re the only ones in the waiting room. “Your hot body’s been enough to keep my attention.” His eyes drag up and down Steve, mentally undressing him.

Steve feels heat creep up his neck and he chuckles, pushing Bucky’s hand away. “Stoppit. Jerk. I’m a person.”

“Punk,” Buck smirks. “You like it.”

“Shuddup. Not here. God, you’re such a creep.” They’re both grinning—probably like complete, horny letches—when the door to the therapist’s office opens.

The professionally dressed woman offers them a friendly smile. “Bucky, Steve.”

“Hey Linda,” Bucky greets.

“How’d it go, Doctor?” Steve asks, not on as informal terms with the CDP staff as his husband is. “Is she …”

“Mary is fine. Would you like to come in and talk with us?”

Bucky is immediately standing from his chair. “Yep.”

Steve has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He grabs Bucky’s wrist. “Hang on now, Buck. Maybe she doesn’t want us in there. We should try and give her choices where we can.”

Doctor Linda surprises him by saying, “Actually, Mary says she’s fine with discussing this all together.”

Bucky shoots him a smug look and tugs his wrist back. “See?”

This time Steve does roll his eyes, but he nods at Linda and gets up to follow her back into the office.

Bucky

Bucky can recall very clearly the first time he’d been told he had a mental illness. He’d been ten, had been sent to the school shrink for misbehavior. He remembers how his mom had come in, harried about being called off from work when her kid wasn’t even sick. Bucky had felt bad about that, had felt like he’d done something wrong (well, he had scrubbed Trixie Wallace’s face into a mud puddle at recess).

But still, even at ten years old he’d been smart enough to know that this meeting with his mom and the counselor was more serious than another simple admonition or in-school suspension.

Long story short, His mom wound up reacting with something like embarrassment, and Bucky had wound up internalizing that for a long time, feeling like his “condition” was something to be kept private and not discussed.

Now, he sits in Linda’s office and makes sure to exude an air of calm and acceptance. He doesn’t want Mary to be embarrassed about this like he was. It helps that times have changed a bit since Bucky was a kid, and he knows this particular Center very well. They do good work with the designated community. Bucky knows that no one here is going to announce to Mary that she’s a deviant.

Mary’s sitting in her own chair, separate from where Bucky and Steve share the couch. Even though Bucky’s instinct is to tell her to come sit with them, he holds back. He knows that the seating arrangement is likely purposeful on Linda’s part. He tries to remember Steve’s words about giving Mary choices where they can. Domination may be what she needs, but too much of a good thing, administered too fast, can still be harmful.

“High needs,” Steve is saying, echoing what Linda’s just told them. “... So, she’s like Bucky, but submissive?”

“Yes,” Linda confirms. “We did the assessment twice, and both times Mary tested at the far end of the spectrum.”

“Fantastic,” Mary mutters.

“We’ve been discussing what this might mean for her care plan, going forward. Mary has several other issues that I believe tie into her unfulfilled needs as a submissive.”

“I don’t understand how it went undiagnosed for so long,” Bucky says, feeling vaguely upset about it. “Doc?”

She shrugs. “Mary’s from a part of the country where mental health awareness isn’t so advanced. They didn’t test in the public school system where she grew up.” Mary makes a quiet noise of discontent and Linda adds, “So we’ve been talking about the physiology of it, the role of neurotransmitters and how important it is for her to be dropped regularly. And we’ve discussed what that might look like, different options she has.”

“Options?”

Here, Linda hesitates. “Well … Mary has expressed an interest in taking advantage of the Center’s social programs.”

“No,” Bucky says right away. “Absolutely not.”

“She said you do it,” Mary counters, and when Bucky looks over he finds her glaring at him. “Apparently, I don’t need you after all. I can just come here and hook up with any old body.”

“I’m your legal guardian right now,” Bucky reminds her. “And the clubs are for people who know what they’re doing. It’s too unstructured for you. You need more stability than that.”

Mary scoffs and crosses her arms, but Dr. Linda is already nodding in agreement. “I think Bucky’s right, Mary,” she says gently. “A reliable, dominant partner and regular drops in a safe space are what you need right now.”

“Why can’t you just write me a prescription or something?” Mary complains. “You said it was a brain chemistry thing, so why not?”

Linda looks uncomfortable as she explains, “Medication is usually only considered as a last ditch treatment option … and with your substance use disorder and other issues I'd rather not —”

“I am not an alcoholic!”

“No meds,” Bucky says, hating that idea. “Come on, Mary. You don’t want to be drugged up, do you?”

She glares at him. “You just want to control me.”

He fights very, very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he quips. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

Mary groans and slumps back into the cushions of her chair, looking put out. “This sucks.”

“It’s manageable,” Linda reminds gently.

"I don't want to be this way," she mumbles. "'High needs'. It's embarrassing."

“It's no different than needing air, or food or sleep,” Steve supplies. “You guys just have this extra thing.”

Mary makes a face, probably at being lumped into the ‘you guys’ category with Bucky. “So, what’s the plan then?” she asks mulishly, crossing her arms. “We go back to your place and you break out the whips and chains?”

Bucky barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Oh, honey. I promise there aren’t any chains.” He winks at her. “I prefer leather.”

Mary

After the therapist, it gets a little easier to be around Steve and Bucky. Mary’s still quick to anger, thinking about the situation that she's managed to get herself into, but there are some ameliorating factors to the situation.

Having an official diagnosis—no matter how much she doesn’t want this diagnosis—is at least a starting point. Mary doesn’t have to keep exhausting herself, arguing with Bucky that she’s not a sub. She is. That’s that.

And when he takes it upon himself to speak with Mary’s boss about her situation (effectively getting him to unfire her for the multiple days of work she’s missed) some more of Mary’s contempt for Bucky slips away.

“Thank you,” she says quietly once they leave the café, her next shift already scheduled for that upcoming Monday. “ I … this job, it means a lot to me.”

“I know.” Bucky says simply, though Mary can see the self-satisfaction in his posture. He takes her hand as they walk together down the sidewalk, and to Mary it feels like some sort of test, like he’s waiting for her to pull away.

So she forces herself to curl her fingers around his and keep holding his hand.

Again, she can practically feel the reaction coming off of him. He’s pleased with her. Mary’s cheeks flush from the domineering squeeze he gives her hand from time to time as they walk, and she’s grateful that she can blame it on the day’s chilly air.

Doctor Linda had explained everything, of course, when Mary went in for the assessment. The testing hadn’t been what she was expecting, hadn’t been embarrassing or invasive. And, perhaps most disappointing of all, it hadn’t been predictable. Mary hadn’t felt like she knew which way to fake her responses, to get the test to declare her mentally fit. So she’d answered honestly.

And where had that gotten her? Lumped into the same group of deviants as James Bucky Barnes. “High needs”—God it sounds awful.

“It’s not necessarily sexual,” Linda tells her at her second appointment. “Or, well … it doesn’t have to be, at least. There are ways around it, if you really need an asexual dynamic.”

Mary nods along, but inside she thinks about the last time Bucky scolded her or praised her or held her hand on the sidewalk. She thinks about when he’d put his hand on her throat and applied pressure. Thinking about those things doesn’t make her feel asexual at all.

The first time Bucky doms her in a coordinated manner, she’s actually unaware of what he’s doing at first. It’s one of Mary’s three days off and she’s terribly bored, researching how to make grapefruit soda caviar and wondering if there’s a gym nearby that she could join. She hasn’t exercised in weeks, and honestly, if there’s even the slightest chance that she’s going to wind up being naked in front of Bucky or Steve (or, oh god, both of them), then she really feels like she needs to work out.

Scratching fingernails over the skin of her lower stomach, she googles nearby gyms, finds one that looks decent, and tells Steve that she’s headed out to go join. She’s tying one sneaker when Steve objects.

“Oh but wait,” he says. “Um, Bucky’s going to be home soon. And I think he uh, I think he had plans. … For us.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. She likes Steve—thinks he’s kind of a big, beefy sweetheart, actually—but sometimes his devotion to Bucky and what Bucky wants is annoying. “Fine, you stay here and tell him where I went. I’ve got to get out of this apartment.” And out from under you and your bossy husband’s constant supervision. “Got to … I dunno, burn off some steam.”

Bucky’s timing is impeccable. He comes through the door just as she’s bending over to lace up her other sneaker. His arms are full of plastic grocery bags, which he dumps onto the kitchen counter with fanfare. "Honey, I'm home."

“What happened to using the reusable bags?” Steve drawls, earning an eye roll from Bucky.

“Forgot 'em.”

“Mmhm.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s grinning at his husband, until he catches sight of Mary crouched in her gym clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks her.

“None of your business,” she snips, standing back up and heading for the front door.

“Stop right there, Princess.”

Oh. Well that’s a new one. Mary turns back around with what she’s sure is an incredulous look. “‘Princess’?”

Bucky smiles warmly and drags her over to inspect the groceries that are in the bags. She’s quick to catalog: eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. “What?” she asks, looking up at him. “You think I’m going to cook for you?”

“Oh I know you’re going to cook for me,” he says calmly, taking dry goods out of one of the bags and arranging them in the pantry. “Bake, in fact.”

Mary might stare a little, maybe with her lips parted. She feels equal parts annoyed and intrigued by his audacity. Something vaguely squirmy and warm stirs in her. She's planning on throwing some haughty quip back at him, maybe casually threatening poisoning, but somehow what comes out of her mouth is a subservient, “Well … what do you want me to make?”

He turns back around with bright eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can come up with something,” he practically purrs. He gets right up in her space and says, “Something … delectable.”

Mary has to avert her gaze and turn away. She says a quick prayer that he hadn’t been close enough to hear the little hitch in her breath, then tries to focus her attention on cataloging the ingredients the jerk has brought her. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk …

Hadn’t she … hadn’t she been going out somewhere? Oh yeah, right. The gym.

She squeaks when Bucky claps a cheerful hand on her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “Good girl,” he simpers, then walks over to the couch and flops down next to Steve, giving him a kiss hello. They proceed to chat with each other and chat about their days like Mary isn’t standing less than twenty feet away in the kitchen.

She suddenly feels like some 1950’s housewife. … One with damp panties, now that Bucky’s called her that right in her ear. Christ. Had Steve heard? She glances back over to them, but they’re not looking her way. Mary flushes and looks back down at the countertop. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. She tries to think if she has everything she might need for soufflé cakes.

“How can something so plain be so good?” Steve wonders at the dinner table, where he’s squinting closely at his third helping of dessert like he can glean answers from it. “And what is it?”

“Satisfying,” Bucky says sagely. “That’s the secret.”

“The secret is buttermilk. And it’s cake, Steve. Just eat it.”

“How’re those dishes coming, Doll?” Bucky calls back, shooting her a sly look from over his shoulder. Mary resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him and dunks her hands back into the soapy sink water.

Steve pokes the jiggly cake with his fork. “What are yooou?”

By the time they’re finished with dinner and dessert (and dishes), she’s figured it out. All the pet names, the casual touches and the confident demands? Bucky’s trying to dominate her. She thinks about calling him out on it, but promptly forgets to do that when they go into the living room to watch a movie and Bucky firmly suggests that she make herself comfortable on the floor instead of the couch. At his and Steve’s feet.

Forget about damp panties, she just hopes it doesn’t start to show through her leggings.

Asexual dynamic her ass.

Mary had only held onto the illusion that the guys were gay gay for about two whole days, before it became very apparent that they actually like women, too. Steve’s comments alone about Daenerys while watching Game of Thrones are enough to broadcast that he swings both ways.

So that takes it from regrettable to just plain insulting when, as time goes by, Bucky doesn’t initiate anything sexual with her. He keeps doing his whole Dom thing, aided and abetted by Steve, and almost always in ways that take Mary off guard. He’s never mean, never does any of the intimidating things she’d imagined a dom would do to a submissive.

And Mary won’t admit it, but she’s starting to look forward to when Bucky gets home from work at the end of the day. She spends more time than she’ll ever admit planning out something new to make for dessert, all the while anticipating the beginning of Bucky’s early evening commands and how they elicit those first tendrils of effervescent, pink fizz giddiness.

It’s the later commands—the ones that come after dinner and during tv time, that tend to bring on the warm, sunken bathwater feelings. Marys pretty sure that Steve is a bit of a voyeur, because he seems fascinated by it all, watching every night as Bucky bosses her around, sometimes even joining in his own small ways, by petting her hair or telling her she’s sweet, or something like that.

Every evening, they play this strange game. And every evening Bucky and Steve each give her a kiss on the cheek and send her dazed little self off to bed, the two of them retiring to their own room. In the beginning, being left alone to go to bed is nice. She ignores the arousal between her legs in favor of floating in her syrupy sea of sweet feelings. Going to bed in subspace gives her the most solid sleep she’s ever had in her life. But after another week of it, and then another, the arousal starts to linger a little more at bedtime. She starts to fantasize about what it would be like to keep things going, to take Steve’s hand at the end of the night and let him guide her into his and Bucky’s bedroom, rather than her own; be held between their two big bodies while they whisper more sweet things to her and touch her in new places …

Maybe Steve and Bucky really do just want this to be platonic, she thinks, as another week of the same goes by and her dreams are getting dirtier by the minute. She’d surreptitiously stuffed her vibrator into a bag when they’d gone back to her apartment to retrieve her belongings, but she’s been too afraid to use it when Steve and Bucky are right across the hallway in their room, mortified to think that they might hear the buzzing and know what she’s doing.

Best not to add fuel to the fire, she thinks, when she ignores how increasingly horny she’s becoming and forces herself to lie still and count sheep and not fantasize about the two insanely hot, not-gay-gay men in the next room. They’re still a happily married couple, she tells herself. They’ve got no interest in her as of yet, and she’ll just be making herself into a homewrecker if she pushes for more.

… Or maybe they’re just not attracted to her that way, she eventually starts to think. Steve and Bucky are both in amazing shape, and they’re very good looking. They probably see her as like … maybe a solid five—with makeup and a blowout.

She gets a little down in the dumps about it, realizing that all the heavy drinking and crap diet of this past year and a half has taken its toll on her, and she’s just not physically their type. She convinces Bucky to start adding salmon to the grocery list, she researches the pros and cons of lip filler, and starts whitening her teeth with one of those nasty little gel kits.

She stands in front of her bathroom mirror each night and scrutinizes her naked body, dragging her nails absentmindedly against the skin of her lower stomach and cataloging everything that’s not as good as it could be. She considers the scars on her hip that have no new slices added to the roster, wonders if Bucky ever wound up telling Steve about how … how awful they are …

“Night, Mary!” Steve chirps from across the hall, making her inhale and flinch in surprise.

“N-night!” she calls back through the wall, feeling the pleasant effects of that night’s drop fading away faster than she’d like.

Maybe she should just be happy that she’s getting at least this much attention from them, that things have improved a little and she at least isn’t drinking herself into a stupor each night anymore. That’s a positive, even if she is still left pining after them like a fool every night. Steve and Bucky are okay guys, but they probably just don’t want anything more than this from her. They’re helping her because she shares this mental illness with Bucky, and that’s super nice of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to be attracted to her, too. Mary’s not entitled to anything.

She joins a 24 hour gym and takes to binge exercising in the middle of the night to push away the uncertainty.

Series Masterlist

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card: sarah-writes-stucky / sarahyellow

Square O2: therapy session

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Square B5: Love triangle

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apple-onigiri · 7 days ago

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DISTANCE IN VAUGARGE (revamped edition)

IMPORTANT: this post was deleted and made again to make edits and not spread misinformation (because i made a stupid mistake and took earth's entire circumference and accidentally treated it like it was only half of it! it's really funny because i did think that this feels way too big of a distance... happens i guess! especially at 4am lmao but it did uh, increase all the numbers by a whole Two so. unfortunate! gotta fix it!!)

@cyten0 (sorry to tag you again just figured you'd like an update and an actual correct answer, and you're still the one who inquired about this) asked if i could provide more information about my calculations for traveling across vaguarde, and since it seems too long for a reblog and i want to categorize it properly on my blog, here it is in a whole separate post!

this honestly started out as a curiosity about what climate the northern island could've had given its distance from the equator compared to earth's countries and uh. spiraled into me thinking about this. don't ever think about anything guys

TL;DR (for people who don't want the super fun math part): it's 1111.4 km/690.59 miles from dormont to bambouche in a straight line and somewhere in the ballpark of 250 hours of constant travel by foot to cross the distance. with a bonnie-ordained preteen-friendly tempo of around 5 km/h (3.1 ish mph) and eight hours of travel per day from 8am until 1pm and then 3pm to 6pm to set up camp properly early, it'd take around a month or so to make the trip, not counting any and all longer stays to refill supplies and any irregularities caused by going to a town and not having to set up camp or pack it back up.

ok quick geography lesson: the lines on the globe running horizontally are the latitude. they go up to 90 in each direction from the equator, which is 0, so there's a 180 in total. obviously for specific locations you'd use decimals but who caressss

longitude is important too here - the vertical lines - but less so. they go up to 180 on each side of the latitude's version of the equator, the prime meridian, as well but it really doesn't matter where that meridian is placed here, the only thing that matters is that the lines are in a correct distance to each other.

here's the globe id5, in her infinite wisdom, bestowed upon us (i'm completely normal about the existence of any and all maps. in the original post i said can be trusted with them but that is! clearly not the case!) that i added all the southern hemisphere latitude lines onto, as well as the longitude needed for my insane needs (math)

i obviously assumed the planet is the same size as the earth because i genuinely see no reason why it couldn't be other than to make my life sad and hell also. the general distance from one pole to another is 20,000 ish kilometers. (if you for some reason want the planet to be smaller or bigger, cool trick, literally just multiply the 20,000 by it. want it to be one third of its current size? multiply by 0.3. two-and-a-half times bigger? 2.5!) so what i did was draw out the lines onto the actual map and measure the estimated distance based on how big of a chunk it is out of this 20k.

it seems dormont is at about 19 degrees, while bambouche is at 11. easy here!

just divide the whole distance by 180 and you get 111.(1) km (that 1 in a bracket telling you that that one goes on foreeeeever if you let it). since we're looking for the distance of 8 degrees, and we've got a distance of one, you can either multiply it by 8 or subtract the one degree times 2 to get 889. ish. any decimals are the enemy here at this point.

you do the same for the other direction - both bambouche and dormont seemed to be about 2 degrees from the longitude lines, so you do the process with just multiplying by 6 at the end or subtracting the one degree times 4 and get 1333. ish.

it's pythagorean theorem time!! it looks like a lot of big numbers but they do that only to get added nicely, it's okay, they're not that scary and they don't bite pretty promise with a cherry on top, and you get the resulting distance of 1111.4 kilometers like that!

here's how it measures up in reality for some scale:

(hey it fits into all of france now!!)

the average recorded speed of a preteen - which the party logically must move at most of the time - is about 5 kilometers per hour (3.1 ish miles). with a travel plan of 4 hours of travel since 9am until 1pm, a two hour break, and another 3 hours until 6pm, because you need to set up camp and things like that need time, it's safe to assume they'd be crossing around 35 km/h a day. and this is still a really good pace!!! very endurance-heavy! divide the total distance by that and you get an estimated time of travel in days, which here is 31; just around a month.

this is, while less than my initial busted calculations, still a lot! lots of walking. so i uphold my statement that they better have sent a letter to nille ahead of them and that the vaugarde postal system is robust enough to deliver it in a timely manner right after the entire country defrosted, to keep her from worrying to death!

#i literally sat up in my bed when i realized i made a Huge Mistake #doubling the size of the planet in your calculations?? rookie mistake.....#oh well..... i 'm a linguist!! what do you want from me #in stars and time #isat #pondering #isat meta #isat analysis #long post

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valkyyriia · 7 months ago

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Take a Break!

Words: 750 CW: None | SFW Tags: Sleepy Fluff, Shirking Work, Sebas panics a little Pairing: Leonardo Da Vinci x GN Reader

Note: This is what happens when I'm trying to stay awake at work. I write fanfiction. Earlier I chose angst; now I'm choosing fluff.

You were sitting at the dining room table in the mansion, eyes drooping, head propped up on your hand.

For some reason you just hadn't slept well the night before. Not due to nightmares or stress; you just kept waking up throughout the night, and it would take you awhile to fall back asleep. By the time the clock hit seven, you had maybe gotten four hours of sleep. If you were lucky.

You had sat down for a break, but the table was looking more and more appealing as a pillow.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep where you're sitting, Cara Mia."

The voice jolted you out of your impromptu nap, eyes snapping open in panic. Your head smacked against the table with a loud thunk.

You winced, rubbing the now tender spot on your head.

"Scusa, tesoro," Leonardo murmured apologetically, running his fingers gently over the sore skin. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He frowned at you, taking note of the dark circles under your eyes.

"Have you been sleeping enough?"

With Herculean effort, you focused your eyes on Leonardo's concerned face.

"Normally I do. I just didn't sleep well last night, and I'm struggling today because of it." You punctuated your sentence with a yawn. "But I'll survive. I think."

Leonardo sighed and stepped closer to you.

"Whoa!" you exclaimed as the greater vampire lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

"If you're that tired, you're going to be a danger to yourself," he murmured, his breath tickling the top of your head. "And we can't have you going and injuring yourself because you're too stubborn to take a break when you need it."

He started to walk out of the dining room. Leonardo's warmth combined with the heady scent of his cigarillos and the safety you felt in his arms took away any protest you had left in you (not that there was much of it to begin with), your head resting in the crook of his neck.

You were feebly aware of him stopping and opening a door, but your conscious thoughts were steadily fading and giving way to the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

You were lowered out of Leonardo's arms onto soft sheets and a pillow that smelled just like the man who carried you here. With a half-asleep sigh, you snuggled your face into the pillow and almost immediately fell asleep.

Leonardo chuckled affectionately before crawling into the bed beside you, pulling your sleeping form against his chest and wrapping his arm securely around your waist.

It's not like Leonardo needed an excuse to take a nap, but being able to snuggle with his adorable mortal partner in the process certainly sweetened the deal.

If it were even possible, you relaxed further, any remaining tension leaving you in favor of sinking into dreams in his embrace.

You would deal with the consequences later.

Bonus:

Sebastian was searching the mansion, a worried expression on his face. He had walked into the salon to gauge progress and found it half cleaned, your cleaning supplies left draped on a table.

It was unlike you.

Sebastian even asked the other residents if they had seen you. None of them had seen hide nor hair of you since breakfast.

He began to grow anxious.

The other residents agreed to help search for you, if nothing else than to make sure you were okay.

"We should ask Leonardo if he's seen them," Isaac suggested. "I know he's been occupied in his room all day working on some new project, but he's still their partner."

Sebas nodded. The mansion residents split up, and the butler headed straight for Da Vinci's room.

He knocked on the door with no answer.

He then tried the doorknob and pushed the door open, thinking Leonardo may have just fallen asleep.

He was met with the heartwarming sight of the two of you, curled up together in Leonardo's bed, so close it was hard to tell where one body ended and the other began.

Sebastian smiled, the anxiety fading from his visage.

There would certainly be hell to pay later; falling asleep on the job was unacceptable. Your forehead would be aching for weeks once he was done with you.

But for now, having assured himself of your safety, he was content to let you sleep. Clearly you needed it.

Taglist: @natimiles @chandeliermichel

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo x reader #leonardo da vinci x reader #otome fanfiction

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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months ago

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Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn’t die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 19/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake, Donna Troy

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Nineteen: Fourth

For the next two months, Tim woke me up in the early parts of the morning to train. Bruce assumed that Tim took my physical therapy super seriously, so I let him believe that. I got out of bed every morning to run on the treadmill while Tim ran the drills that I gave him. Barbara stressed that I wouldn’t be as fast or as strong as I used to be, but I didn’t need to be. I just needed to be smarter than Bruce.

Tim on the other hand learned fast, and he taught me a few things about myself. Sparring with him made me better. And it made Barbara suspicious.

“How many months do we have left?” Tim asked.

“October, Tim. And I think I’m gonna be late coming home from Barbara’s tonight,” I replied, “What are you gonna do while I’m gone? Go to Ives’ place?”

“Um… No, I’m gonna go to the hospital and see Dad—.”

I grabbed his arm. “Can you give him that box upstairs in my room? It’s from both of us,” I requested.

“You want me to lie?” Tim asked.

“Nope. I took ten dollars from your wallet for express shipping,” I half-joked. Tim playfully punched my shoulder. “I’ll buy lunch next week.”

Tim stood in the gym with me, shifting his weight from left to right. “Did you need the money—?” Tim hugged me. It almost knocked me off balance, but I held firm. I figured he thought about his mom and needed something to hold onto for comfort. He didn’t talk about her, but I could tell it still hurt. I think that part of me was shut off. I didn’t grieve when I should’ve and now that part of my heart is missing. I keep trying to fill it with Tim’s grief but nothing can take up that space. I would’ve given anything to be able to cry for my moms or my dad. I could only cry for Tim, but it didn’t fix anything inside of me. I squeezed him tight, and he let go.

“I might spend the night at the hospital,” Tim whispered.

“Okay… If you don’t see me tonight, I’ll send you a text,” I replied. We didn’t have to talk about it. Besides, I had to shift my focus to a vigilante tagger foiling Cluemaster’s most recent heists… And I had a pretty good idea of where to find the culprit. I had to do it alone to prove to myself I could still do this. It had nothing to do with my plans. I just needed this as a confidence boost.

After training with Barbara, I took a shower and headed straight for a suburban neighborhood in Gotham. I watched the house for almost an hour before watching a girl speed off on a motorbike. I couldn’t keep up with her on foot, but Tim had this crazy idea about me skating to compensate for my speed deficit.

I thought it was stupid when he suggested it, but it was a huge improvement. I was right behind her until we got to a cluster of buildings. I watched her enter a building, and I took the old way up. I almost forgot how cold it was scaling buildings. The air whipped past, hurting my exposed wrists, but I kept at it. By the time I got up there, she was there with a brick. And the thing is, no matter how much the incident slowed me down, my hands were as fast as ever. I caught her wrist and squeezed until she dropped it. “I’m not here to fight. I think we’re a lot alike, Stephanie,” I stated. She moved in for a headbutt, but I was a little too tall for her, so it didn’t land quite right and she hit my chin.

“Ouch! Jesus!” Stephanie winced as she clutched her forehead. She stumbled and landed on her butt, which gave me time to level with her. My chin hurt, but she didn’t have a lot of leverage on that headbutt. She really hurt herself more than she hurt me.

I crouched in front of her. “Can I talk now?” I asked.

“What do you want?” Stephanie questioned.

“I wanna help you put your dad in jail… If that’s what you want. I just—. I need someone like you. Someone they’d underestimate, someone tough—. Can you take the mask off? I wanna make sure you’re not hurt too bad,” I requested. She sighed and took the mask off, and I checked her for signs of a concussion.

Stephanie reached for my mask, and I flinched before letting her take it off. She took a good look at my face, and I got a good look at hers. “What do you need me for?” Stephanie asked. Her voice was serious as she watched my eyes.

“I want to show my dad that I’m not broken… And you want to show your dad that you’re not like him. You’re the kind of person I’d trust with my life… But it’s not me that I want you to look after,” I whispered. Stephanie was the perfect person to look after Tim. I stared at the red mark my chin left on her forehead and frowned as I took an ice pack out of my belt. “Here.”

“Thanks… What are you asking me?” Stephanie replied.

“Um… I want you to follow my brother on Halloween. I want you to make sure nobody hurts him. That’s all I’m asking… And I’ll do everything in my power to get your father put away,” I promised.

She held eye contact with me the entire time. “What’s so special about me?” Stephanie asked.

“What isn’t special about you?” I asked in reply. All I saw when I looked in her eyes was Catherine. I could see hurt, but I also saw hope. I couldn’t tell her that, though. I had to tell her something else. Something true but not as personal. “I know you’re a good person. That’s why I have to tell you my name. I’m Jason, and I know how it feels to be betrayed. Say you’ll let me help you.”

“My dad might get out after he gets caught—.”

“Stephanie, I know how the justice system works in Gotham. I’m telling you right now, I’m not going anywhere. If you tell me now you want me to help, I’ll help as long as I’m able,” I interrupted.

“Call me Steph… And give me five seconds. We’ll go and get something to eat… Talk details,” Steph smiled as she pinched my cheek.

“My treat,” I replied.

Steph pulled her mask back on and clicked her tongue as she pointed finger guns at me. “Wait. You said you’d help me? Who are you?” Steph asked.

“I used to be somebody,” I replied without thinking. It almost upset me to hear the words come out of my mouth.

“You’re still somebody… But that doesn’t answer my question. Who are you? And why do you think you can help me?” Steph asked. She smiled a half-smile as she returned my ice pack.

“I don’t really know who I am… But I—. I know I can help you if you let me. How about we grab something to eat while you tell me about your dad’s plans?” I asked.

“Sure,” Steph whispered as I pulled my mask back on.

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ladyantiheroine · 4 months ago

Text

Double Shot of Midas

Summary: Bigby has one too many drinks at the Trip Trap. Read on AO3.

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Snow White

Warnings: Alcohol

Word Count: 2.9k words

Tags: drunk confession, declaration of love.

It had been a hard day.

Most days were hard. Being the Fabletown sheriff was no walk in the park, Bigby had worked it long enough to know that. Trying to keep a town that didn’t have much respect for you in check wasn’t easy.

By the time he got off work, his head felt like a deadweight and his body ached for rest. It started raining as he made his way from the Bronx back towards the Woodlands Apartments.

The bar was warm inside compared to the cold rain pattering on the streets. But warm didn’t exactly mean welcoming. Bigby hadn’t been back at the Trip Trap in months, and the last time he was there, things hadn’t exactly been…friendly. But he was exhausted, and cold from the rain, and his tongue craved something strong.

Inside the air felt as thick and sticky as a freshly-emptied pint glass, and a jazzy tune ballooned from the jukebox in the corner. The bar’s owner, Holly, glanced up at him from her place behind the counter. She gave him a sour look.

“Well, look who’s back,” she said.

Bigby was in no mood for Holly’s sarcasm. The door shuttered close behind him.

“Was expecting a bit more fanfare,” Bigby sniped back.

Holly rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the cash register.

Bigby raised an eyebrow.

“Not gonna tell me to fuck off this time?” he said

Holly crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“As long as you don’t break anything in my bar this time, I don’t care what you do.”

She wasn’t trying to kick him out, which was more cordial than most of their interactions. Bigby decided to take that as a sign of progress. He took a seat at the end of the bar by the jar of pickled eggs. On the far other end, Grendal sat with his head down on the table and a half-empty glass in his hand.

“I wouldn’t bother him if I were you,” Holly said. “He’s been knocked out for hours.”

“I’m not interested in starting anything,” Bigby said. His gold eyes sharped. “At least, not tonight.”

Holly gave him a look, then grabbed a dirty glass from behind the bar and started cleaning it down with a ragged cloth.

“And what are you interested in tonight, sheriff?” she said. “No offense, but you kind of look like shit. I mean, you never exactly look spiff and span, but you look like you just got hit by a bus or something.”

“Just a long day,” Bigby grumbled. “I just need a drink to wind down.”

“Well, if that’s the case.” Holly tossed aside the rag and set the newly cleaned glass on the bar. “What’ll it be tonight, sheriff?”

Bigby lowered his eyes down to the glass in her hand.

“A Midas Gold,” he said. “Double.”

Snow had just finished getting ready for bed when she heard the knock on the door. As soon as she heard it, she sensed something was wrong. She pulled a bathrobe over her pajamas and made her way towards the door. The knocking turned into a fist pounding on the door, and a familiar voice croaked from the other side.

“Snooow, ” it moaned.

Snow knew that voice anywhere. But why would he be here at this hour? Was there some emergency she needed to know about? The thought made Snow’s stomach twist with dread.

She opened her apartment door, and there he was. The Fabletown sheriff stood outside her door, shirt rumpled, tie loose, belt gone, hair a haphazard mess, and a foggy look in his eyes. He stood with one hand pressed against the doorframe, unable to stand straight.

Snow’s eyes widened as she looked him up and down.

“Bigby,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Hey, Snow,” he said. His words came out like a slurred smear. “Sorry to bother you. Just thought I’d stop by.”

He removed his hand from the doorframe, and that’s when Snow noticed the way he swayed when he stood. His weight shifted from one foot to the other, like he couldn’t stand straight.

“Bigby…” Snow said carefully. “Have you been drinking?”

Bigby snorted.

“Only a little,” he said. “Just a couple Midas Golds down at the Trip Trap.”

The unsteady way he was standing and the sloppy way he was speaking made Snow think he’d had more than just “a few.”

“Hate to bother you this late,” Bigby said. “Just wanted to stop by.”

Snow looked him up and down. She wanted Bigby to go back to his apartment where he was safe. But she didn’t want to close the door on him. What if he hurt himself? What if he went out again and a Mundy saw him?

She sighed and opened the door. Bigby stumbled his way in. He was only a few steps in when he stumbled towards a table and gripped the top of it to maintain his balance.

“Come on,” Snow said as she took his elbow. “You need to take a seat.”

Bigby let Snow guide him into the living room and sat him down on the couch. He looked at her with a strange, dreamy look as she sat on a chair across from him.

“Thanks, Snow,” he said.

“Bigby, why are you here?” she said. “You’ve never shown up drunk at my door before.”

“I’m not drunk—“

“Yes, you are.” Her voice was firm. “I can smell the liquor in your breath and you can barely stand.” She sighed. “Bigby, I don’t care what you do when you’re off duty, but I’d like to know why you’re at my door at a quarter to midnight in this state.”

Bigby’s eyes suddenly dimmed, and Snow wondered if her words came out harsher than they intended. It was late, and she was tired, and she’d never been in this scenario before with a co-worker. Before she could speak again, Bigby broke the silence.

“I…had nowhere else to go.”

This made Snow pause.

“You have an apartment in the Woodlands,” Snow said. “Why didn’t you just go there?”

Given how hammered he looked, anywhere that wasn’t his apartment wasn’t safe for him in his current state.

“I didn’t want to go back there,” Bigby said. “Too quiet. Too tight. I wanted to talk to someone…” He gave her a look. “And you’re the only person I can talk to.”

Snow felt her heart sink a little.

“Bigby, that can’t be true.”

“But it is.” He told his eyes. “I mean, I guess there’s Bufkin, but he was back at the Trip Trap and he looked more sloshed than me.”

Snow crossed her arms and sat down in a chair across from the couch. Her Woodlands apartment was a modest one. Not as small as Bigby’s, but not as glamorous as Beauty and Beast’s. She watched Bigby tip his head back, a cloudy look in his eyes.

“We have to get you back to your room so you can rest,” Snow said. “Is there anyone we could call?”

“You can try calling Colin. The bastard snuck off the Farm again. But I doubt those hooves of his can pick up a phone.”

Bigby snort-laughed, then lowered his head down onto the couch with a groan. He pressed his face into a throw pillow and coughed, and for a moment she thought he might throw up.

“Sorry,” he groaned.

“It’s fine,” Snow said. “Let me get you some water.”

Snow retreated into the kitchen and grabbed a glass. As the glass filled, Snow glanced back at Bigby. She always figured Bigby drank when he was off duty. She couldn’t really blame him. Being the Fabletown sheriff was no easy task. But he’d never shown up at her door at this hour before. She wondered what made him come tonight, and why her apartment of all places.

When the cup for full, she returned to the living room. She offered him the glass of water, and he reached out and took it. As he drank Snow looked him up and down. She was not used to seeing the sheriff in such a state before. He was normally so stoic, walking around with icy walls around him. Seeing him like this, his clothes more ruffled than usual, his tie loose, his hair a mess, his body so weak he could barely sit up…she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him like this. He looked so vulnerable. Like a lost puppy.

Bigby sipped the glass dry and then handed it back to her.

“Thanks, Snow,” he mumbled.

“No problem.”

She set aside the glass.

“I’m sorry,” Bigby mumbled. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No, it’s fine,” She assured him. And it was true. She and Bigby had been partners for a long time, and partners helped each other out. The only thing that bothered her was…

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I said I wanted to drop by.”

“You’ve never shown up at this hour before. Did something happen?”

Bigby groaned and turned his face back into the pillow.

“Nothing,” he sighed. “Just…just didn’t feel like being alone.”

Snow paused.

“And so you came to me of all people.”

“Of course,” Bigby said. And then, Snow saw the hint of a grin on his face. “Who else would I go to if not Fabletown’s saving grace.” He turned and looked at the ceiling. His words were a boozy trail from his lips. “The fairest of them all.”

Snow felt a small flush in her face then glanced down at the floor. She lowered herself back into the chair.

“It’s nice to know you think that,” she said softly. “To most people, I’m less princess and more ice queen.”

“That’s only because they don’t know you,” Bigby said. His words were slurring more by the minute, but Snow could understand him. “They don’t spend every day in the office with you.”

Bigby’s eyes lingered on her then kept speaking.

“That’s what I’ve always admired about you, Snow. No matter how bad things get, no matter how many shitty people we meet, you always stay in control. You’re only mean because you have to be in this job. I know I’ve had to.” He scratched his face. “Besides, you give way more of a shit about this town than most do.”

His words warmed her. Snow glanced down at her hands in her lap.

“That’s nice of you to say, Bigby,” she said.

She was frozen in her seat. His words were…oddly sweet. Unusually sweet for him. But this scenario felt strange. Like she was hearing something she was never supposed to hear. Like he was showing her something he never intended to show anyone.

Bigby stared at her for a moment, with something in his eyes she couldn’t quite identify. His eyelids fluttered and he slowly collapsed back onto the couch. The booze was finally getting to him. He was not getting up any time soon.

Snow sighed. If he wasn’t going back to his apartment, at least he was somewhere safe. In here she could keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

She stood up and grabbed a blanket from one of the other chairs. She approached the couch, her eyes lingering on his sleepy, drunken face. His eyes watched her, barely able to stay open. Snow gently draped the blanket over him.

Bigby suddenly took her hand in his. Snow looked at her hand, then looked at him. His eyes had a soft expression she rarely saw in him.

His next words fell from his lips in a whispery breath.

“I love you, Snow.”

His eyes fluttered shut as his head fell back onto the pillow. He dropped her hand, leaving it suddenly cold. In seconds he was fast asleep, and Snow stood there wondering if she had heard him correctly. The words he said played over and over in her head, like if she examined them enough she’d find a mistake. Maybe she misheard. He was drunk and slurring and his speech was incoherent. Maybe she was just tired and her brain wasn’t processing information like it should because she swore he said—

I love you, Snow.

Bigby was snoring on the couch, fresh out of consciousness. Snow slowly backed away into her bedroom and shut the door. She collapsed onto the bed, listening to the soft sounds of Bigby’s breathing in the other room, her heart and thoughts racing too fast for her to sleep.

Snow woke the next morning before Bigby did. She wandered out into the living room and saw him still on the couch, breathing softly under that blanket. Morning sunlight spilled from the windows and onto the back of his head. As soon as her eyes found him, his words from the night before echoed through her head: I love you, Snow.

She shook the thought from her head and made her way into the kitchen. She started making coffee and poured a glass of water with some painkillers, knowing Bigby would be in a world of ache when he woke up.

As soon as she had two full mugs, she heard a long groan from the living room. Snow shook her head with thoughts from last night and wandered into the living room. Bigby was seated up on the couch, clutching his head like it weighed too much for his shoulders.

“Good morning,” she said, setting a mug on the coffee table in front of him. “Sleep well?”

Bigby lifted his head to her. His eyes squinted against the light coming from the window. His eyes flickered around the room as he took in where he was.

Bigby shut his eyes and groaned.

“Fuck,” he said. “Did I come here last night?”

“Yeah,” Snow said. She sat in the chair across from his, her steaming mug in her hand. “You showed up around midnight. Don’t you remember?”

Bigby ran his hand through his hair and shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I remember…I stopped by the Trip Trap after I left the office…everything after that is fuzzy.” He lifted his eyes to Snow’s. “I’m sorry, Snow, I shouldn’t…”

Snow shook her head.

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “I mean…I’m just happy you ended up somewhere safe.”

Bigby gave her a small nod.

“Yeah,” he said. “I ended up somewhere safe.”

Snow felt a flush in her face, and she hid it with a sip from her mug.

“You were no trouble,” she assured him. “You came knocking on my door. I let you in, gave you some water, and then you passed out on the couch.” She gave him a small grin over the rim of her mug. “You were the most polite drunk guest I’ve had.”

“That’s good to hear.” Bigby ran a hand down his face. “I just hope I didn’t do or say anything too embarrassing last night.”

Snow’s mind flickered back to the night before. Bigby knocks at her door, his words slurring from his mouth. The way he spoke like his words had an autonomy of their own. Words that said…

I love you, Snow.

Bigby was looking at her, expecting a response. Snow didn’t know what to say, the memory of his words replaying in her head.

“Nothing, really,” she said. “You were slurring your words so much I couldn’t really understand anything you said. You came in here and passed out on the bed. That’s all.”

Bigby nodded, then took a long sip of his coffee. Once they both finished, Bigby stood up.

“What time is it?” “About eight.” “We should head to the office soon.” “Agreed.”

Snow took both their mugs to the kitchen and began washing them in the sink. As she ran a soapy sponge through the cups, she sensed Bigby at the doorway watching her. He spoke just as she set the mugs aside to dry.

“Do you wanna get breakfast?” he asked. “We’ve got an hour before we have to be at the office. I’ll buy us something quick on the way over.”

Snow turned to face him.

“Oh,” she said. “Bigby, you don’t have to do that.”

Bigby lifted his hand and shook his head.

“You let me spend the night after I showed up at your door pissed drunk in the middle of the night,” he said. He looked her in the eye. “The least I can do is buy you breakfast.”

Snow felt something warm in her chest.

“Thanks, Bigby,” she said.

Bigby turned and glanced at a clock on the wall.

“That breakfast place that sells pancakes is about ten minutes from here. If we leave soon we can still get to the office early.” His eyes flicked to her. “You like yours with blueberries, right?”

Snow gave him a look.

“How do you know I get mind with blueberries?” she asked.

Bigby shrugged.

“Every time you bring breakfast to work, you always bring a to-go order, and you always have blueberries with yours. That and a coffee with two sugars.”

He said it nonchalantly like it was no big deal. But Snow felt something warm inside of her. She never knew Bigby noticed things like that. Her coffee order, what she had for breakfast. She couldn’t think of any reason why he’d bother to notice or care.

Then those four words came floating back to her:

I love you, Snow.

Bigby turned on his heels and then glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

Snow felt a smile threaten to stretch on her face.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready.”

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wolfjackle-creates · 2 years ago

Text

Answer My Call

As promised, this is the first chapter of @gilbirda's Wrong Number AU all fixed up. A lot of it is the same as the original version, but a lot has changed. It went from 3,059 words to 5,392. I'm gonna try and get somewhere with the next chapter of this, but no promises on time-frame. Also working on transferring at least the first chapter of all my WIPs over to AO3. This'll be the only time I tag a bunch of people for this as I'm gonna set up subscription posts.

Find the original prompt and fill here.

Find the Subscription Post here.

And the AO3 version here (locked to logged in users, reach out if you need an invite).

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

----------

Jazz sat in a Nasty Burger booth and stared at her food. She'd ordered Danny's favorite, but her stomach was so in knots she didn't think she could eat.

All of this was her parent’s fault. If they weren’t so close minded and horrible, if they’d just accepted they were wrong…

Her circling thoughts were interrupted by a balled up napkin landing on the table next to her tray. Jazz was half to her feet ready to yell at whomever threw their trash at her when she saw Sam in a frilly yellow dress walking to the counter with her grandmother.

Huffing as if annoyed, Jazz settled back down and straighted the napkin. In messier-than-normal writing, Sam had scrawled the message:

I got him an old phone before he ran. His number is XXX-XXX-XXXX.

As surreptitiously as she could, she pulled out her own phone and saved the number to the encrypted folder Tucker had set up. Then she destroyed the napkin by soaking it in her unfinished pop and throwing her entire tray away, uneaten food and all.

Well, there was nothing else she could do in Amity. Might as well start the long drive back to Boston.

Upon reaching the edges of town, however, she realized leaving wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. A GIW checkpoint had been set up and all incoming and outgoing traffic was being questioned.

Two agents approached her car before she could turn around and try a different way out. She did make them knock on her window before deigning to lower it just an inch, however. After what they’d done to Danny, she would never willingly play along with their games again.

“Ms. Fenton,” said the agent as soon as she realized she wasn’t going to open the window any further, “we need to search yourself and your vehicle. You are a known ecto-entity sympathizer and are suspected of assisting in the escape of subject P1. Vacate your vehicle immediately.”

“All I did was come back to my hometown to find my missing brother. I’ll need to see a warrant before you search my car.”

“Ms. Fenton, I don’t think you understand the situation. Due to the escape of the highly dangerous specimen P1, the town is under our a state of emergency. Mayor Masters has instated martial law to ensure the safety of all citizens. You can either vacate your car or you will be under arrest.” He grabbed a packet of papers from an inner pocket of his suit jacket and pushed one end through the crack in Jazz’s window.

Jazz took them and skimmed. The agent wasn’t lying; anyone caught breaking curfew or suspected of harboring or otherwise assisting a ghost would be arrested without bail immediately. All because her brother escaped that torture chamber. She stepped out of the car.

It took over an hour for the agents to search every inch of her car, purse, and luggage and convince themselves she didn’t have Danny hidden away somewhere. By the time she was allowed to go on her way, her jaw hurt from how hard she was clenching her teeth and her eyes stung with tears.

She hated Vlad. And the Guys in White. And the US Government. But finally she was free to leave.

And then she realized the white van was following her out of city limits. Really? Was she going to have to deal with them tailing her, too?

She ground her teeth and eased up on the gas pedal, moving to the right lane. Her father had taught her how to drive, but she’d learned better from the internet and recorded driver’s ed classes. She followed the speed limit exactly, only changing lanes to pass or allow others to merge on. Through it all, her focus remained on the white van behind her. She recognized Agent O as the driver.

Every so often his attention would slip and he’d wind up closer to her than intended. And then, finally, forty-five minutes after she started her perfect driving, she saw him yawn.

“Eat dust, creep!” Jazz shouted as she slammed her foot on the gas and jerked the steering wheel to swerve into the next lane. A chorus on horns followed her as she crossed the median and began going in the opposite direction. She had learned some things from her dad.

Two exits closer to Amity, she got off the highway and stopped at a Target for a burner phone which she activated at a local library. Then she got back on the highway east.

To her satisfaction, it took Agent O three hours to find her again.

-----

That night at a motel in who-knows-where Pennsylvania, Jazz double checked the locks on the door and that the curtains were closed before pulling out her new phone.

Her fingers trembled as she typed a message and sent it to the number Sam had given her.

Hey, Danny, it’s Jazz. Sam passed on the number for the phone she gave you before we were all separated. Please let me know you’re safe. Love you.

Jazz stared at the phone, hoping for a reply.

She woke with the phone clutched to her chest, but no new messages. Her breath caught and then she was curled around the phone crying.

“Danny, you’d better be okay,” she mumbled through her sobs.

But then her main phone alarm went off and Jazz forced herself up from the bed and into the shower. She could get through this. She had to.

An hour later, with her makeup applied and secret phone well hidden in her bag, she was back in her car and getting on the highway, a white van keeping pace behind her.

That night she was back in her dorm room in Boston. Her roommate tried to ask her questions about how her trip home went, but Jazz brushed off the concern. If she’d been honest, her roommate wouldn’t know how to reply anyway.

Instead, she waited until the other girl was taking a shower to pull out the burner phone and send another message.

Made it back to Boston. They’re following me now. Please don’t come here. It’s not safe. I know they’re keeping close tabs on Sam and Tucker, too. But they don’t know about this phone. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

The next day, she got a phone call from an unknown Amity number during her Literature class. With a hurried apology to the professor, she gathered her supplies up and rushed out of the classroom as she answered the phone.

“Jazz speaking.”

“Hello, Ms. Fenton. My name is Detective Ramirez. I’m calling regarding your brother, Daniel—“

“Danny,” Jazz corrected automatically. “He prefers Danny.”

“Right, Danny. It appears he’s missing.”

Jazz’s breath hitched. She knew that, of course. But hearing a stranger say it so bluntly hit different. She walked faster, there was a single stall bathroom just a floor up.

“His teacher, a Mr. Lancer, reported his disappearance yesterday and your parents admitted they didn’t know his location either when we went to check on him. Do you know where he may be?”

“I don’t.” Finally, there was the bathroom. She rushed in and shut the door behind her, locking it before sliding to the ground. “Have— Have you figured out how long he’s been missing?”

“Near as we can tell, it’s been a week. Do you know why your parents wouldn’t have reported him missing?”

Jazz let out a mirthless laugh. “Are you from Amity, detective?”

A pause, then he said, “I am.”

“Then you know my parents. They were probably too busy trying to torture a ghost to notice Danny.”

“Would it be possible for you to stop by the station to answer some questions?”

“I’m in Boston for school, detective. You can come here or I can answer any questions you have on the phone. I will not be going back to Amity unless it is to see Danny.”

“Very well. Did your brother have any motivation to or history of running away?”

And so began an hour long interrogation. Jazz played her part to perfection. She cried, she begged, but she didn’t give him anything.

That night, after her roommate went to bed, she sent another text.

A detective called today to see if I might know where you are. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything. Maybe next time I’ll let slip some lies, send the GIW on a wild goose chase. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

It became a ritual. Every day she’d keep her head down and go about her classes ignoring the agents following her and once a day when she could guarantee her privacy, she’d send another text to Danny. Each one ended the same way.

It’s been a week since you escaped. Did you make it to the realms? Love you. Let me know you’re safe. The detective actually came all the way to Boston to interview me. Can you believe it? I cried on him and begged him to find you and may have mentioned how much you loved visiting Aunt Alicia who lived off the grid. Hopefully that’ll distract them. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. Agent K tried to wait for me outside my Psych class today. I just met his eyes and glared until he said something into his walkie talkie and left. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. Today is your birthday and you're still not responding to me. I don't know what I'll do if you die a second time on me. Love you, let me know you're safe. Sam, Tucker, and I can't talk. We're under too close of surveillance. I think Sam is being home schooled now and Tucker got a scholarship and his parents sent him away from Amity. I don't know if it was the GIW or Vlad, but promise me you won't return to Amity. Love you, let me know you're safe. I got a call from the detective. They've basically given up the search. Of course they couldn't find you. I guess mom and dad made the call to have you declared dead. You're funeral is next week. Strangest part about this is it's 3 years too late. Love you, let me know you're safe. Dani was able to visit today. She’s safe and trying to find a way to the realms. We worked on finding ways to mask her ecto-signature and we’re finally happy with the results. I think she’ll be safe now. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

Jazz didn’t mention how the study room they’d been practicing in was raided by GIW agents less than twenty minutes after Dani had left.

I’m back in Amity. Your funeral is tomorrow. I hate it here. I hate even more how much it still feels like home. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. They didn’t even show up. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. I miss you so much. I hate how useless I am. I’m not you. I can't build a portal or boo-merang to search for you. You'd better come home soon. Love you, let me know you're safe.

-----

The first thing Jason did upon returning to his Gotham apartment was shower. The second was sleep for a solid eleven hours.

And when he woke up, he made himself a huge breakfast, reveling in the opportunity to put a kitchen through it’s paces for the first time in months.

But the first non-essential thing he did was plug in his phone and turn it on. After months away, his notifications would be insane and he wanted to be rested and full before bothering to skim through the family group chats.

Unsurprisingly, his messaging app showed over two thousand unread texts. What was surprising, however, was that 71 of those were from an unknown number.

He opened that thread first and skimmed the most recent message.

Agent K tried to pull me aside to question me and search my bag twenty minutes before an exam. Asshole almost made me miss it! But I managed to run and got to my classroom just in time. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

Jason raised an eyebrow and scrolled to the top of the thread. By the time he’d finished reading, his vision was tinted green.

Looked like he wasn’t going to have those relaxing few days before his next big case.

With a sigh he turned on his laptop and searched Amity. All he could find was a generic government website proclaiming it “The Most Haunted Town in America!” Every link on the page was broken when he tried to click it.

He ground his teeth and searched for “GIW” and “Agent K.” Neither yielded any useful results either.

By five o’clock he was nearly ready to scream in frustration and the green wasn’t leaving the edges of his vision. Looks like he was going to need backup.

He stomped out of his apartment, got on his motorcycle, and ignored all speed limits as he rushed through Gotham.

Traffic and noise decreased the further from Gotham proper he got until city streets were replaced by McMansions with their fancy landscaping and long drives.

He continued until he got to B’s home and made his way up the long drive. Though he quickly turned to the smaller path that lead to the kitchen entrance rather than continue up to the main doors.

After cutting the engine, he continued to sit on the bike for a moment as he stared at the door to the kitchen. Was he really going to do this?

He closed his eyes and phrases from the desperate texts filled his mind. With a deep breath he stood up and walked through the door.

As expected half an hour before dinner, Alfred was in the kitchen getting everything ready.

“Master Jason!” he exclaimed. “Give me just a moment.”

Jason watched with a slight smile as Alfred stirred the gravy and lowered the temperature. “Hey, Alfie.”

Alfred made his way towards Jason and pulled him into a hug. “Welcome home, my boy.”

“Got in yesterday. There enough food for one more? Who else is around?”

“There’s always enough food for you. Now, help me stir the vegetables. Masters Bruce, Damian, Duke, and Tim are all home.”

Jason hummed as he got to work helping with the last of dinner prep. “Is the replacement up to anything big right now? I was thinking of asking for his expertise on something.”

Alfred clicked his tongue. “You’ve only just returned from an extended mission. I haven’t even had the chance to check you over for new injuries yet. Can’t you rest for even a day?”

“Come on, Alfie. Don’t you know us better than that by now? No rest for the wicked as they say!”

Alfred gave him a Look. “You are hardly wicked, Master Jason.”

Jason looked back down at the vegetables he was helping with. “I think these are done. And you know I wouldn’t ask Replacement a favor unless it was important.”

“I know you know his name is Timothy,” Alfred said as he passed Jason a bowl. “But he is not working on anything time sensitive at the moment that I know of.”

“And you know everything.”

“Hardly. Now, help me set the table.”

Jason did as instructed and the two fell into an old routine.

Bruce walked into the dining room as they were laying things out. “Jason. When did you get back?”

Jason took a deep breath forced himself to stay relaxed. “Yesterday. Figured I’d grab some of Alfred’s cooking tonight.”

“How did your mission go? Have you filed a report yet?”

God, couldn’t he just ask how Jason was like a normal person?

Alfred stepped in before Jason could snap. “Master Bruce, you know I do not allow shop talk at the dinner table.”

“I’m doing great, B,” he said with fake cheerfulness. “Had the best breakfast this morning and slept amazingly, thanks for asking.”

“Jason—”

“I’m gonna get the last of the dishes from the kitchen, Alfred,” said Jason before Bruce could say anything more.

In the kitchen, Jason leaned over the counter and breathed as he counted to ten. He shouldn’t have come here. Not with the pits so close to the surface after seeing those messages.

But he was bat-trained and he couldn’t leave a mystery alone and he needed someone with better computer and hacking skills than he had. So here he was.

He could do this. It was just dinner then a question.

He grabbed the last two platters of food and returned to the dining room. Duke and Tim had arrived in the meantime.

“Hey, Jason,” greeted Duke.

“Hey, kid. How’s Gotham been treatin’ ya?”

“Same old, same old. Glad to see you’re back and in one piece.”

Jason grinned at him. “The other guys aren’t so lucky.”

Duke laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Tim piled food onto his plate. “You should’ve said you were back. Dick would’ve made the trip out here to join us. Barbara, too, probably.”

“It was a last minute decision. Where’s the demon brat?”

“Here,” said a voice from behind him. “Todd. You appear to be healthy.”

Jason blinked at the kid a few times as Damian walked around him and took his own seat. “Uh… yeah. Thanks. You appear… healthy, too.”

Nonplussed by the lack of aggression, Jason took his own seat and began serving himself as well.

Over dinner, the others filled him in on the major family drama as well as what had happened in Gotham while he’d been gone. Even Bruce seemed to be trying after his initial missteps.

But then they were finishing dessert and Tim got up to leave.

“Hey, Replacement, by the way, can I get your opinion on something? My computer skills don’t seem to be enough to get me the information I need.”

“Really? You’re gonna call me ‘Replacement’ at the same time as you ask for help? Fuck you?”

“Language, Master Tim.”

“Sorry, Alfred.”

“Look, Tim,” Jason corrected himself, “apparently someone contacted me months ago for help and I only just found out because I’ve been gone. It seems to be time-sensitive. Now, I can spend days or weeks more trying to figure this out on my own or you could probably do it in an hour or two.”

And of course Bruce had to butt in. “Who contacted you and what is this case?”

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Looks like a case of wrong number, actually.

“A wrong number?” That caught Tim’s attention.

Jason hid his grin. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yep. She thinks she’s texting someone named Danny. I’m the one getting the messages.”

Tim sighed. “Fine. Give me a ride back to my place and I’ll see what I can do.”

-----

“What the fuck, Jason.”

Eight hours later and they were both tired and Tim still hadn’t gotten anywhere with his search. But he had fried two computers.

“It’s not supposed to do that, is it?” asked Jason staring at the Lazarus-green screen covered in bright blue gibberish. “Is that color combination even legal?”

“You’re worried about the colors? Dude! This isn’t even code. I don’t even recognize half these symbols!”

The computer let out an awful screeching-wail that had Jason covering his ears. Then it started to smoke and the screen when black. When Tim tried to check out the hardware, it had overheated so badly the plastic casing was melted.

“I think it’s time we try calling this Jazz woman.”

“Yeah. Would it be better to call her as Jason or Red Hood?”

Tim just raised and eyebrow at him and Jason sighed as he opened up his messages and hit call, setting it to speaker phone.

He winced when a woman picked up instantly with a cry of, “Danny!”

“I’m afraid this isn’t Danny,” said Jason.

He counted the seconds until the woman spoke again. Seven. “Please, just delete all the messages. If anyone finds out about them, I’ll be arrested. And the guys in white aren’t gentle with prisoners.”

Tim’s eyebrows rose and Jason bit his cheek to hold back the curses.

“You’ve got the wrong idea. I might not be Danny, but I want to help. You’ve reached Red Hood. I was unconctactable for the last few months while on a mission and I only just saw your messages. Red Robin is with me and we plan to help you and Danny. But we need more information.”

Another pause and then Jazz spoke again. “I’ll need some proof you are who you say you are.”

“Seems reasonable,” agreed Tim. “Give us fifteen minutes to get into costume. We’ll take a selfie. You can even specify the pose and any features you want included. Sound fair?”

“Fine. I want Red Robin to give Red Hood rabbit ears and Red Hood to give Red Robin Moose antlers."

Jason groaned. “Seriously? Can’t it be literally anything else?”

“Nope. I want to be sure you’re not just stealing something off the internet. I’ll also be doing a reverse image search on whatever picture you send, just to confirm.”

Tim laughed, the asshole. “Smart. We’ll send the photos soon as we’re changed and in position.”

“Very good. I’ll also have some questions for you, you understand. My record with those associated with the government has not been very good. Which is why my brother, his friends, and I never contacted the Justice League.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t associate with the government then, isn’t it?” asked Jason.

“That’s the only reason I’m even considering telling you the truth, Mr. Hood.”

-----

It ended up being half an hour before they could both get in uniform and agree on a spot where they could take the pictures. Jason finally convinced Tim they should pose next to his favorite grotesque and the pictures were sent off.

Five minutes later, his phone range.

“Cute gargoyle,” said Jazz before they could even get out a greeting.

“It’s a grotesque, actually,” corrected Jason on autopilot. He could feel Tim’s eye roll even with the mask.

"Why can't I access anything from the town of Amity or find any information on the GIW you mentioned? I fried three computers trying to track down information. Literally. Had to disable the smoke detectors."

Now it was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. Tim always got so intense when it came to research.

“You certainly don’t waste time. But before I answer your questions, I need to ask my own.”

Tim frowned, but there was no sign of frustration in his voice when he spoke. “Of course. What do you need to know?”

“What do you know about ghosts?”

“One of my teammates is a ghost,” said Tim.

“And there’s another one who works with Justice League Dark,” added Jason.

A pause, then a surprised, “Really? I didn’t know that.” She hummed and Jason wished he could see her face to see what she was thinking. “Do you know about the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“The what?” asked Tim even as he started typing into his watch. “Wait, if I search for this, will my device burst into flames?”

For the first time, Jazz laughed in genuine amusement and Jason felt he was getting a glimpse into who she really was. The sound pushed the green back from the back of his head and his breath seemed to come a little easier.

“No, the acts are fine. Here, I’ve got the code number.”

Tim searched the number Jazz related. Thirty seconds after pulling it up, he let out a low whistle. “What the fuck. The League has no idea these laws exist. I can promise you that. Martian Manhunter and all Lanterns would leave immediately.”

“What’s it say?” demanded Jason, trying to read the tiny screen over Tim’s shoulder.

“These Ectoplasm Dependent Entities, are they the ghosts you mentioned?”

“Yes. More specifically, the ghosts referred to are sapient creatures from a parallel dimension called the Infinite Realms by its residents and the Ghost Zone by some humans. Ectoplasm, and this is an oversimplification to the point of being incorrect, is required by ghosts the way living creatures on Earth need carbon. Hood, the Anti-Ecto Acts declare all Realm Ghosts as non-sapient, excluding them from the Meta Protection Acts. It also states that they are to be turned over the to Guys in White, more formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward and abbreviated to GIW, for experimentation and elimination.”

“Well shit. And I assume Danny is targeted by this group?”

“Got it in one.”

A chill went down Jason’s spine. “That’s what you meant by his funeral being three years too late.”

She sighed, all hints of laugher gone and Jason wished he could bring it back. “My brother is different. I won’t tell you more than that. He’s still alive, though. Or at least he was when he escaped the Guys in White about three months ago.”

Jason and Tim exchanged glances. She was definitely holding a lot back. So Jason decided to change tactics. “You mentioned another Dani, too. With an i?”

“She’s my brother’s clone. We consider her our little sister, but our parents don’t know about her. We haven’t been able to provide a stable home for her and she loves to travel and is more than capable of protecting herself, so we just keep in contact and hope she’ll come when she needs help.”

Tim perked at the word clone. “We can offer her safety,” he promised. “One of my teammates and best friends is a clone.”

Jazz hummed. “I'll let her know the next time she reaches out. No promises, though. She's even less trustful than I am.”

Jason took deep breaths. “How old are you, your brother, and sister?” She sounded young and had mentioned college many times in her messages.

Jazz hesitated. “We’re all teenagers. Dani was created three years ago, but was aged up.”

Jason spun and kicked the wall hard. Tim caught his arm to keep him from overbalancing. “Okay. Of course you are. Because adults can’t help but force children into roles they should never have to take.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Bit hypocritical of you to say that.”

“Yeah, well, look where it got me,” Jason retorted, voice a growl.

“I feel like I’m missing some context,” said Jazz.

“It’s nothing,” said Jason. “I just hate when adults put kids in danger or don’t help them get out of danger.” And it was definitely time to change the subject. “You mentioned two other people? A Tucker and Sam? Do they need help?”

“They’re not in danger like the Dannies. But the Guys in White suspect the three of us of collaborating with ghosts and are keeping a close eye on us. Our main phones are tapped and any messages we send will be read and all calls recorded. The instant they have proof we’ve assisted or plan to assist ghosts, we’ll be arrested and detained.”

“What can I do to access information on these Guys in White and Amity?” asked Tim.

“You need a computer that’s ectoplasm-compatible. I don’t have a spare, but Tucker would. He’s at a tech school in San Francisco.”

“What’s that mean, ectoplasm-compatible?” Tim was still typing away at his watch and Jason was jealous of his ability to read and listen at the same time.

“Tucker can explain it better than I can. But basically, things from our world don't work around ectoplasm. It gives off it's own form of energy and our gadgets, and bodies, can't handle it. But if something is exposed to low quantities over a long period of time, they begin to change. The ectoplasm is incorporated. This allows the device to display video and pictures of ghosts. Computers that are not ecto-compatible can't even connect to ones that are. An ecto-compatible computer, on the other hand, can access information from a non-compatible one.”

Jason couldn’t help but latch onto one specific word. “What do you mean bodies? Can humans become ecto-compatible?” The idea sent a shiver down Jason’s spine for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

“It’s complicated. Ectoplasm is dangerous for humans. Really dangerous. My brother and friends and I have done some research on how it interacts with living matter from this dimension and… Well, its far too complicated to discuss over the phone with people I don’t know if I should trust and who don’t have the requisite background knowledge to understand it anyway.”

Tim hummed in a way Jason knew meant he wasn’t satisfied and wouldn’t rest until he got all the information he could. “Would Tucker be willing to sell me an ecto-compatible computer if I reach out to him? How much would he want for it?”

Jazz laughed, but this time there wasn’t any happiness in it. “If you’re really going to help Danny, he’d give it to you for free. And if you can get him to trust you, he’ll show you all the backdoors he’s made into the Guys in White’s servers.”

“Fantastic. How can I contact him?”

Jason let them talk specifics as he stared out over the city. Not even twenty-four hours home and he was right back in the thick of things. When it seemed like Tim and Jazz were wrapping things up, he added, “I’d like to speak to you in person.”

“I’m in Boston,” she said with a laugh.

Jason made the calculations, adding time for a ninety minute nap. “I can be there in seven hours.”

“I’ve class in seven hours.” She sighed. “But I’ll text you a time and place. I need to make sure I get somewhere the Agents following me won’t be able to find right away.”

“I can go in civvies,” offered Jason. “I’ve more than a few fake IDs. Might be easier to hide what we’re talking about.”

She hummed in consideration. “I’ll let you know. I have your number after all.”

“That you do. I’ll head your way sooner than later so I’m at least close by when you manage your escape.”

“Very well. Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon. Will you both come to Boston or are you going to Tucker first, Red Robin?”

“I’m going to go to Tucker. I need that computer and access to the relevant information. Then we can start to plan. Before Red Hood leaves, I’ll make a few communicators so you can contact us on a secure line. And I’ll give one to Tucker, too. At least then you’ll be able to talk to each other.”

“Thank you.” Jazz’s voice was quiet and filled with emotion. It made Jason’s heart clench. No way was she faking that. But she gathered herself and her voice was strong again when next she spoke. “And Gentlemen?”

“Yeah?” asked Jason.

“If it turns out I was wrong to trust you? Your bodies will never be found. My friends and I have been keeping Amity safe from ghosts and ghost hunters alike for the past three years on our own. We have access to resources you can't even imagine. And if we are no longer held back by the fear of putting both Dannies in more danger, well, we can do a lot of damage."

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Jason. “You can trust us.”

“I hope you’re not lying,” she said before disconnecting the call.

Jason let out a whistle. “I like her.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Of course you do. You know, this could only happen to us. What are the chances of a wrong number text reaching one of us?”

-----

Far away, in a tower in another dimension, a being smiled. His appearance changed from child to middle aged to elderly and back as he watched the lives of many on the mirrors that covered every surface of his home.

“Just a little longer, my Prince,” he said as the threads of time wove a pattern that glowed just a little bit brighter.

----------

Tag List (Reminder, this is the only time I'll tag for this story. Please see the above subscription post if you want to be notified for tumblr updates.)

@dragonsrequiem, @saltyladynightmare, @thewondersoflebanon, @ashleysmshley-blog, @severedleftie, @vythika96, @kota412, @fuck-you-too-world, @overtherose, @jojo-fanatic, @undead-essence, @ashleysmshley-blog, @emergentpanda-blog, @wolfeyedwitch, @riot-ghost, @britcision, @gennydreams, @annameibunniealsoartist, @hailsatanacab, @ghostadjacentfae, @stormhaven257, @longlivethefallen, @boredomfarie, @notmuchtopost, @deeterzz, @chemical-pepis, @rin1sakami, @marivictal, @letoasai, @shykitten28, @addie-lover-of-stories, @ambiguouslyominous, @clenastia, @sleeping-squire

#dpxdc #answer my call #wrong number au #anger management ship #my writing #edited first chapter #ao3 link

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rip-quizilla · 7 months ago

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We're a Metal Band

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 22: Alternate Universe

A/N: This story is a collaboration between @the-unforgivenn and myself! If you enjoyed this work, go visit her page and show her some love :) You can find her masterlist here.

WC: 996

Summary: Eddie's shift at The Hideout gets interesting when four presumptuous twerps walk in.

Tags: Bartender!Eddie Munson, Dustin, Will, Lucas and Mike are all in a band together, Eddie has a soft spot for these kids in every AU

Divider was created by @strangergraphics

“For the last time, we’re not children,” the cantankerous, curly-headed demon with the lisp bullied himself into Eddie’s space like there isn’t a foot and a half height difference between the two. “We have just as much of a right to perform here as anyone.”

“Actually, you don’t,” Eddie countered, fighting his emerging smirk with a withering glare. “This is a bar. Not a daycare. And no one performs here, Justin, the audience would be, like, five drunks at most.”

“My name is Dustin. I know it’s not a daycare, as I have stated before, we are not –”

“I think what my friend is trying to say-” the soft-spoken one with the unfortunate bowl-cut interjected, “-is that we want to play here. And I think you’d be smart to hire us.”

Eddie snorted, wiping lazy circles across the surface of the bartop with a damp, tattered rag. These kids were annoyingly persistent, but it was better than being bored at work during the dead hours of a Tuesday evening. “And why is that, kid?”

Panic flashed briefly behind bowl cut’s eyes, but right as he opened his mouth to reply he was interrupted by the tall one behind him.

“Because we’re a metal band!”

Eddie’s eyes flicked over to him, followed by the wide eyes of the other three band members.

“Mike, we don’t know any-”

“Shut up, Lucas!” The tall kid- Mike- muttered to the fourth kid with an elbow to his ribs. Mike’s eyes were trained on what seemed to be Eddie’s chest, so Eddie curiously followed his line of sight… right to his Black Sabbath T-shirt.

A wry smile took up residence on Eddie’s lips as he decided that maybe these kids could make his boring shift a little more entertaining.

“A metal band, huh?” He asked, pitching his voice high with interest. “What’s the name of the band?”

“Sign us. Then we’ll tell you.”

“What do you think I am, a producer? I’m a bartender, kid! I don’t sign shit, I pour beer.”

“Okay, let us perform then.” The kid amended- practically whined. Jesus, how old are these twerps? “We don’t need a stage or anything, we’ll just set up in that corner! You won’t even know we’re here!”

Eddie leveled an eyebrow at him. “You’re a metal band and you’re telling me I won’t even know you’re here?” Mike cringed while Eddie smirked, shrugging before he turned to dry some pint glasses waiting behind him. “Must not be a very good metal band, then.”

“Next Tuesday.”

The obstinate demand came from the curly headed one who’d started this whole debacle. Argumentative, this one. A regular Dave Mustaine. Maybe these kids were metal after all.

“Next Tuesday, what?” Eddie paused, waited. He knew where this was going, but he wanted to test their metal; wanted them to sell him on it. It was the least they could do, since he’d already made up his mind about what his answer was going to be.

Curly Top steeled himself, squaring his shoulders and standing tall as his height would allow. “Let us perform next Tuesday night, and if we suck then you tell us to fuck off and we never bother you again.” Then he stuck out his hand, arm straight with rigid resolve. He looked ready to make a business deal- which, if you asked this kid, was exactly what he was doing.

Eddie studied that hand, making a show of contemplating his options before reaching out his own and sealing the deal.

“Next Tuesday.” he agreed, hiding the grin that threatened to emerge from the corner of his lips. “And you better have settled on a name by then.”

They were all giddy at this point, already glancing at each other with shining eyes and smiles that stretched from ear to ear. “We will! We promise!” one of them piped up as they began shuffling out of the sunset-lit bar. Eddie sighed, cursing his own sense of charity. Explaining all this to Bev would be interesting, to say the least.

“You kids better not let me down!” he called just before they reached the door.

“We won’t, sir!” Dustin shot a gap-toothed grin his way, the golden hour sunlight dappling a halo through his brown curls before the door shut behind him.

Eddie cringed at the sir that punctuated the end of that sentence. He wasn’t sure anyone had called him sir…ever. He chuckled, shaking his head. He might be going soft in his old age. That, or maybe those kids just reminded him of the boy he used to be- eager and hopeful, full of that fire stoked by dreams of making something of himself.

He still had those dreams- kept them in a drawer, admired them from time to time. Kept them in good condition, just in case he decided to pass them down to someone who had what it took to turn them into something more.

Maybe these kids had what it takes.

Eddie isn’t sure what went on in the week following their signing (Christ, that still made him grin), but when the group showed up that following Tuesday night, they were transformed.

Dressed head to toe in black, adorned in chains and leather boots. Mike boasted a denim vest that looked two sizes too big. The drummer secured a black bandana around his brow, and he was pretty certain Will was wearing eyeliner.

Good for him.

Eddie cocked his head, watching as they struggled with what looked like a homemade sheet crudely painted in reds and blacks behind the makeshift stage. Curiosity simmered behind dark chocolate eyes, straining against the dim light of the bar as the final tack was placed.

He scoffed, a bemused sort of sound as he read the name - their name - that proudly proclaimed to him and all five drunks exactly who they were.

Corroded Coffin.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Eddie muttered as something akin to pride wormed its way into his chest.

#eddie munson #corroded coffin #corroded coffin fest #bartender!eddie

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staciesometimeswrites · 2 months ago

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rules: you will be given a word. then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

I actually had two of these. I was tagged by @jamieroyjamieroy AND @fairytalegonewronga03

This is gonna be tough, I'm not even gonna lie lol I don't have a lot going on in terms of WIP's right now lmao 🙃

First word:

CARDS:

Courtney wasn’t known for his sense of humor, and he certainly wasn’t known to laugh for seemingly no reason. Courtney waved him off, took another sip of his… coffee… and regretted it. He set it aside and decided he’d dump it down the nearest drain when Tieg wasn’t looking. He didn’t want to offend his one friend.

“Alright, Jee. You’re going to hang out with Uncle Buck today, okay? He’s kind of sad so it’ll be your job to cheer him up.” Her mommy told her, smiling down at Jee as she smoothed her hair back. “Daddy and I are going to go do some shopping, so we’ll be gone for a few hours. Do you think you can take care of your uncle for me?”

Researchers did say the seemingly harmless white substance could be just as addictive in large quantities.

Dmitri chuckled low, and throaty before nipping the cartilage of Courtney’s ear hard enough that he yelped before righting himself and bringing his hands down to the man's hips which were angled just right. “If you beg, maybe I’ll let you. Can you do that for me Courtney? Can you beg me to fuck your slutty hole until you can’t even walk straight?”

Sighing, Buck eventually lamented, “I’m going to get the dishes cleaned up. Why don’t you go turn on a movie or something while I finish?” Tommy gave him a cheshire grin at those words and once again his body lit up like a firework, his cock hardening behind his zipper. “Fuck, Tommy. Don’t look at me like that. I need to clean up.”

(I 100% am having to borrow from some of my original WIP's because I apparently don't have a lot of variation at the beginning of my sentences. 🥴)

Second Word:

TOMMY:

Tommy told Buck about the Mustang he’d been working on restoring after buying it dirt cheap. It had been in complete shambles, more parts missing than there, but Tommy was bringing it back to life.

...once again his body lit up like a firework, his cock hardening behind his zipper. “Fuck, Tommy. Don’t look at me like that. I need to clean up.” (Is it cheating to begin mid sentence? 😅)

Maddie chuckled, sounding wet, as she replied, “No, Jee. I think he liked us very much, especially your Uncle Buck.” She took a heaving breath and bundled Jee into her chest. “Sometimes things happen when you grow up and you can’t be together, even if you love each other.”

Mommy didn’t answer, choosing to instead kiss the top of her hair before burying her nose in it. Jee thought she could feel something wet but she wasn’t sure. Since it wasn’t raining, and she wasn’t in the bath, how could her hair get wet?

“Yes, Evan?” The big man purred, nosing along his jaw to his ear where he grabbed onto the sensitive lobe and gave a gentle tug before licking along the outer shell. Buck couldn’t help the shudder that worked down his spine in response. His half hard cock was getting more and more interested, and the dishes were becoming less and less of a present concern.

This was hard and y'all are mean.

No pressure tag, and sorry if you don't want me tagging you:

@cull3nblaze , @chimneyz , @silversky9

Your word is INFINITE

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #911 abc #kinley #911 on abc #original works #original fiction #my fics #my WIPs #Writing WIP #fanfiction WIP

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barleyo · 1 year ago

Note

do you take requests if so for the love of god do more boomhauer please it was so damn hot <3 love your work btw

Straight Tequila Night.

Jeff Boomhauer X Fem! Reader (smut)

A/N: Thank you so much for your request, and yes, requests are always open! Sorry for the excruciatingly long wait, sweetheart. I'm pretty worthless when it comes to getting requests done in a timely manner, sorry!! This is heavily based off of John Anderson's Straight Tequila Night, so I suggest listening to it while you read. Whoever can find the most references to the song in the fic wins, haha!

Wordcount: 3.4K

Tags: P*rn with plot, p in v, oral (f receiving), sex with a semi-stranger, smut in the later half of the story

He jetted down the highway, looking for any sign or signal that pointed toward a bar. He never liked traveling outside of Arlen for anything, but when his friends were done drinking for the night and his regular pub was closed, he didn’t mind driving a few miles out of town to get a drink and mingle.

Though Boomhauer was going farther than he originally thought he would need to, he refused to turn around and give up. Instead, he kept on driving down the sparingly lit road. The road there was bumpy, he noticed. Old and cracked pavement, unlike Arlen’s smooth, blacktop roads. He was only twenty or so minutes out of town and he could tell the differences between the two places by how often his car would jump on a jagged crack or pothole too deep to be safe.

Finally, he pulled into the parking lot of a tiny place that did not register as a bar in his mind until a neon sign that read “happy hour, every hour” came into view. The lot was empty besides a car or two in the employee’s spots and a few beat up sedans that were scattered. Boomhauer parked in a spot nearest the door and got out, grabbed his jacket he left in the passenger seat, and shrugged it on. Hands in his coat pockets, he walked in.

For however few cars were in the lot, it looked like even fewer people were even in the place. He surveyed the empty tables and thought to turn right back around to keep looking when a voice called out to him.

“Welcome in,” a woman said.

His head snapped over to the source, finding her behind the bar. He had not noticed her while he was making his earlier assessment of the place. He offered a quick smile in an attempt to combat his previous indirect rudeness and sat at her bar top. Boomhauer took note of the woman’s age: a bit too old to just be working at a place like this, she was likely the owner.

“Never seen you before, you new here?” She leaned over the countertop inquisitively, leaving enough room between the two of them for comfort. “Or just passing through town?”

“Just passing through, ma’am,” he said.

“Ma’am? Gosh, polite, aren’t you? You can call me Mary, none of all that ‘ma’am’ stuff. Your name, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“Jeff Boomhauer. Friends call me Boomhauer.”

“Alright then, Boomhauer, what’re you havin’ here on this fantastic night?” What Mary lacked in numbers, she made up for in energy and entertainment for the guests she did have. The emptiness of the bar did not seem to bother her.

“Alamo, if you’ve got it.”

“Alamo? Oh, honey, you’re from Arlen aren’t you?” she asked, biting back a laugh when he nodded. “Y’all really love your Alamo, huh? Nobody here drinks it. Thought about replacing it on tap to save my money, glad you’re here to drink it.” Mary bent down, disappearing under the bar to grab the beer mug. “Sixteen ounces okay?” She pulled the tap and filled the cup.

“Mhm, that’s fine by me,” he grabbed the mug and took a swig from it, and looked to his side. He saw a wine glass sitting next to him on a napkin. Before he could ask about it, someone walked over.

“Someone else here, Mary?”

“Yup, (Y/N),” Mary was already turned to the girl’s direction, hearing the click of her heels before hearing her voice, “Out-of-towner from Arlen.”

(Y/N) took her seat next to Boomhauer and faced him. “It’s ‘bout time we see someone who isn’t a regular,” she laughed, holding her hand out. “Nice to meet you.”

Shaking her hand, he replied, “You too, Miss (Y/N).”

“Oh, so polite,” she said. “Didn’t know I was a ‘Miss’ kind of girl!”

“That’s what I was saying too! Jeff Boomhauer, are all Arlen men like this? Because if so, I might need to get me one,” Mary joked while she wiped down the other end of the bar, scrubbing at a stubborn stain.

Boomhauer said nothing in return and instead sipped at his mug quietly, listening in on Mary and (Y/N)’s chat. He allowed himself to peer at her from the corner of his eyes every so often. She was an exceptionally pretty thing: big smile, cute voice, and even cuter laugh. He was normally a talkative man, but feeling so enthralled and out of place made him want to listen especially closely to the two women.

“So, uh,” he cleared his throat, “you come here often?” He internally cringed at his own cliche, but (Y/N) seemed not to mind.

“I’m Mary’s favorite regular, if that gives you any clue.” She looked at him, a sweet smile covering her face.

“Don’t let her fool you, she’s still a pain in my rear,” Mary interrupted absentmindedly.

“See, that’s real love right there,” (Y/N) grabbed Boomhauer’s arm as she chuckled to herself, and let go once she was done. “Hey, do me a favor, would you?”

“Yeah?”

“Take these,” she dug in her purse and pulled out a small handful of quarters. “Put on, uh, K-13 on that ol’ jukebox in that corner.”

“You got it,” he said. He stood up and stepped over to the jukebox, inserting the coins. He hovered his fingers over the number keys of the jukebox’s keyboard and punched in the numbers that she told him to. “I didn’t even know these things were still used,” he said. “Ain’t seen one since I was a kid.”

“I know, right? Used to be my favorite thing: headin’ to a diner with my daddy, popping on whatever song I could with the nickels and dimes he found for me in his car’s cup holders.”

Boomhauer sat back down and watched (Y/N)’s face contort into a fond smile as she went over her memories.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He did not try to stop his own smile from forming at her words.

“Well,” she started, “you in town for long?”

“Nah, just tonight. Came here when my dang ol’ favorite place was right n’ closed up. Just trying somethin’ new.”

“Ah, well, cheers to that then!” She held her glass up and clinked it against his. She drank from it again, finishing out the rest of her white wine. “You know, we almost never get people just blowing by here,” she traced the rim of the glass, “the place is just too boring for people, I guess. Empty town and all that.”

“I like it.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t mind it here, man. Nice n’ quiet, wouldn’t say it’s better’n Arlen, but I don’t mind it here,” Boomhauer said, watching (Y/N)’s face warm up from the alcohol, assuming the same was happening to his own face.

“Oh, Boomhauer, don’t say that or else I’ll have to convince you to move here! We could use some more cuties like you here, it’d make it worth hanging around this town.”

“Maybe someday, Miss (Y/N), maybe someday,” he chuckled at her dramatics, but on the inside he felt a sharp spark. She was joking, of course, but the hint of truth behind it was all Boomhauer could hear. He couldn’t possibly move to a new town for a woman he’d known for only the lesser half of an hour, but God, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel tempting every time he heard her laugh.

She smirked at him and ushered him to stand up and follow her. She tossed a few bills onto the countertop on both her side and Boomhauer’s, pushing his hand down as he reached into his pocket to pay. “Lightin’ up and headin’ out, Mary,” she called from behind her shoulder.

“Long as you don’t do it in here, hon,” Mary called back. “See you.” She had taken to looking through a magazine while the ‘couple’ were chatting with each other and was still engrossed with what she was reading.

(Y/N) grabbed Boomhauer’s hand and pulled him out the door, letting go of his hand and sitting on the curb just outside the bar. She patted the spot beside her. He sat down with her and watched her take a box of cigarettes out of her purse.

“You smoke?” she asked.

“Mhm, yeah.” He did not smoke. He may have lit a cig once or twice in high school, but never as an adult, and why he told her he did, he did not know.

“Shit,” (Y/N) groaned, pulling her final cigarette out of its lonely box. “One left.” She lit it and took a drag, exhaling a dark cloud and tapping the ash off of the end. “Hm,” she grunted as she held the stick out to Boomhauer.

He lifted his eyebrows in surprise but took it anyway. He saw the red ring of (Y/N)’s lipstick around the filter of the cigarette and smiled, taking a puff of his own. An unfamiliar heaviness grew in his lungs and he fought back a cough, handing it back to her.

“You know,” she took another drag before continuing, “I’m glad you came on in tonight. It’s always just me n’ a few random regulars. Every damn night, never a newbie or anyone interestin’.” She sighed and leaned her head onto Boomhauer’s shoulder.

He tensed up a first, but calmed down once he felt her start to hum gently.

“There’s something about this town I love,” she puffed from the cig and coughed. “The community, the familiar faces. Everyone knows each other, and there’s charm to that.”

Boomhauer nodded, the smoke swirling around him as (Y/N) exhaled. “Yeah, it’s true. Arlen’s like that too, bit bigger though. Everybody knows everybody. Can’t go any-dang-where without bumpin’ into someone you know.”

“Right,” she replied, a bittersweet smile gracing her lips. “But sometimes, it’s nice to step outta your bubble, really get out there.”

He thought for a moment, contemplating her words. It had been a long time since he ventured outside of his comfort zone, outside of his town. Sitting there with (Y/N) on that quiet curb, he couldn’t help but feel a strange comfort. Maybe there was more to life than the familiar routine he had grown accustomed to.

“You might be onto somethin’ there,” he finally said. “Life’s too short to stay in one place, a man’s gotta be free, man. Maybe it’s time I start takin’ some risks, tryin’ new things.”

(Y/N) grinned, a playful glint in her eyes. “I like the sound of that, Boomhauer. A man with a sense of adventure is very sexy.”

They kept speaking to each other, inching closer throughout the night.The initial awkwardness between them melted away, replaced by a growing connection and a shared sense of curiosity.

Eventually, the cigarette burned out.

“Can’t believe how fast time flew by,” Boomhauer said, a tinge of regret in his voice. “I gotta get goin’.”

“Don’t know if I’m being forward, but am I gonna see you around these parts again, Mr. Boomhauer?” she asked with a laugh, copying his formality from the beginning of the night.

He caught on. “Well, Miss (Y/N), depends on if you’re good and sure you wanna see me again.”

“Hm, I think I’d like to. Could get used to sitting by a handsome not-stranger like yourself every Friday night. Mary likes ya’ too.” She angled her head up to make eye contact with him. “I like you more, though.” She leaned in and pressed her red-stained lips against his chapped ones.

He placed his hand on her face and tilted her into the kiss, savoring the feeling. Stroking her cheek with his thumb, he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, slowly pushing into her mouth. She moaned as he explored her mouth, intertwining his tongue with hers briefly before breaking away.

They both panted as they caught their breath, still holding eye contact.

“I should get going,” (Y/N) sighed, standing up.

“Right, uh, yeah, man, me too.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched her turn to walk away. “You need me to walk you to your car?”

“No, hon, I’m okay. Just–” she looked back at him, “just make sure to come here again real soon, yeah? Don’t be a stranger, Boomhauer.” She walked to her car, heels clicking. She got into the car and drove off, rolling down her window to flash a final smile at him.

Boomhauer had gone back to that small, desolate bar every week on Fridays for a long time. He did not see (Y/N) there for a while. He was upset, thinking that she had forgotten about their little promise so quickly, but he still showed up. Every Friday, sometimes Saturdays. He had soon started to devote less and less of his time to visiting Mary’s pub in search of her.

Today, he decided, would be one of his final trips. He was still hopeful, of course, but he was not completely delusional and knew when enough was enough.

He walked in, head down. Not looking up, he sat down at his regular seat, right by the middle of the bar top.

“Hey, Mary,” he groaned, finally looking up.

“Hey, not-stranger.” (Y/N) smiled at him while picking up her glass.

Boomhauer looked up, seeing her face again. He felt relief, anger, and happiness all at the same time. “(Y/N)? (Y/N), where have you been? I– I’ve been comin’ here wantin’ to see you every week.”

“I know, I know, Mary’s grilled me about it plenty, and I’m sorry.” She plopped down next to him in the chair, facing him with a grimace on her face. “I don’t even know what happened. I was getting dressed to come see you on that Friday and I just couldn’t leave, same with all the others.” She grabbed her shot glass. It was filled to the brim with tequila, and it probably was not the first or only one she had that night.

“What do you mean?”

“Damn it, I don’t know, Jeff,” she sighed and shot the drink back, wincing at the burning feeling it left in her throat. “You’re just so nice, you were so sweet, and you listened to me when I was talking the whole time. You let me joke and be silly and made me feel like you felt like I did, even if it was a lil’ soon.”

“I do feel the same, (Y/N), I feel it too, but if you felt this way, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Wasn’t that simple, I felt so scared and I couldn’t take the chance of you not feeling the same. You say you do, but even telling you now makes me so nervous,” she covered her face with her hands, and her voice was a bit muffled as she ranted. Her hands felt clammy with her sweat and tears.

Boomhauer gently wedged his hand between her face and her palm, tilting her head to angle her eyes at his. “Darlin’, c’mon now, don’t cry. I get it, you don’t have to explain anymore.” He got up and tapped her arm. “You’re too drunk to drive, let me take you home, yeah?”

(Y/N) nodded, thick tears still dripping down her cheeks.

They both exited the bar, (Y/N) clinging onto Boomhauer’s arm, snuggling into it against the cool night air. They got in Boomhauer’s car and (Y/N) typed her address into his phone’s GPS system.

They drove in near silence, the only sound being a sniffle of huff from (Y/N)’s side of the car. He soon pulled into her driveway. Getting out, he walked to her side and opened her door, lifting her to her weak, tired legs and walked her to the door.

“I guess I’ll see you whenever I can see you–?”

He was interrupted by (Y/N) pulling him into a kiss. It was not like their first one, this one was rushed and full of need and desire. She pulled him back into the house, still locked in the kiss, and slammed her door shut. She led him to the bedroom and fell back on her bed.

“This okay?” He asked, laying on top of her.

“Mhm, yes. Please, g’head n’ touch me.”

That was all he needed to hear. He pushed her head to the side and placed his lips on her neck. He sucked the soft skin until a tender, dark bruise formed on it. Moving his head up, he littered the hickies closer to her jaw.

Pulling away with a pop, he examined the marks. They were shiny with his spit.

“They don’t hurt, do they?” He traced over the wet marks with his thumb, pressing onto them gently.

(Y/N) craned her neck into his touch, pushing into it further. “It does, but I like it. Don’t need’a worry ‘bout me.”

“Hm.”

Boomhauer ducked his head down and created a trail of kisses, each dipping lower than the last until his lips were situated at her chest, just at the divot of her shirt. He quickly slid his finger through the buttons of her shirt, unbuttoning them and helping her shrug the shirt off.

Goosebumps littered her skin when the cold air hit her body, soon being soothed by the warm kisses he placed over her abdomen. She gasped at the feeling. Boomhauer made his way lower, slipping her skirt and panties down.

“Here,” he gripped onto her thighs and held them apart, “hold still for me.”

He placed his head fully between her legs, licking thick stripes over her cunt. From her entrance to her clit, he traced a path, licking up her wetness and replacing it with his spit.

“God, ‘s too much,” she whined.

“Ain’t even started yet, just wait,” Boomhauer said, voice muffled while he slurped and sucked on her sensitive, swollen bud.

Licking at her slit, he pushed into her, dipping his tongue in-and-out. He rolled his tongue deeper, nose bumping against her clit. Little shocks of pleasure coursed through (Y/N), back arching with each pass over her clit.

Running her hands through his blond hair, she took purchase over the back of his head, grinding her pussy up into his mouth.

“Ah– almost, almost there, keep–”

He pulled off, a wide grin plastered over his slick, reddened face. He wiped his face with his forearm.

“Turn over, baby,” Boomhauer grabbed her waist and flipped her over, face pushed into the mattress. “You ready?” He lined himself up at her entrance, slowly edging the tip in.

“Mhmph.”

His thrusts were slow and agonizing, but not teasing. He wanted this just as bad as she did, no: worse. He felt the velvet ribbing of her cunt suck him in with each thrust, drawing him in and constricting around his cock.

“Tight lil’ thing,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Can’t keep squeezin’ like that, darlin’, makin’ me wanna cum early.”

“Oh, sorry,” she whined slightly, arching her hips further up as if he were trying to guide his cock to her deep spot. “There,” her mouth fell open with a cry, “ooh, right there, right there!”

“Yeah? Yeah, I-I got you..”

Boomhauer tried to keep his hips directly flushed to her back, holding the position she put herself in under him. He turned his full, fast strokes into a rough and meaningful rutting, like he was trying to bury his dick into her G-spot.

“Fuck, fuck.” She panted deeply, pathetically, knowing she was close. A final stroke threw her over the edge into her ecstasy, from a final, sweet knock onto her cervix’s tip.

He saw her shimmery nails grip the sheets tightly, watching as her knuckles practically turned white. “Aw, sweet– shit, sweetheart,” he cooed into her ear, fumbling over his words a bit.

He got lost in his own pleasure, hardly being able to pull out. He managed to in time, however, and fisted his cock. After giving the base a few quick strokes, he groaned seeing his cum spurt out on her bare lower back.

(Y/N) hummed and looked back at him, sleepiness hanging over her eyes.

“Boom,” she said after she heard his breathing steady, “will y’stay with me tonight? Please?”

“I’ll stay longer’n that, girl.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking over to him as he took a spot underneath the covers with her.

“Didn’t you notice the suitcases in the backseat of m’car?

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #fanfiction #smutty smut smut #smut #king of the hill #king of the hill x reader #x reader #x fem reader #jeff boomhauer #boomhauer x reader #boomhauer #adult swim #niche fandom

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broodybuck · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Best You've Ever Had

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, dirty talk, no refractory period, top Steve, bottom Bucky, established relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

[ao3 link]

Steve Rogers is the best sex Bucky's ever had.

Okay, maybe Bucky should mention the fact that Steve is the first and only person he's been with where they both have the serum. And sure, that makes a difference.

Cause once is not enough. Twice isn't either and it's not just about how many times. It's about the way Steve knows exactly how to do it, knows exactly what to say while they're doing it, and knows exactly everywhere to touch him.

Maybe this is dramatic, but Bucky swears Steve can read his mind. He's never had a partner know everything he likes in bed. Things even Bucky didn't know he liked until Steve did them.

How? That's usually the question Bucky asks himself every time Steve turns him on so much it hurts and then fucks him so good, he's useless to do anything else for a good few hours.

He hopes Steve feels even half the way he does. Sometimes Bucky worries it's not as good for Steve because a lot of times, Bucky gets so lost in his own pleasure, he's not sure how much he's doing in return. But the problem is, once they get into it, Bucky can't think straight. So he doesn't have the mind to worry once they're fucking. It's not until after — a while after — Bucky will worry if Steve's enjoying the sex as much as he is.

One day, he'll remember to ask. But not today. Today, they're on the couch. They were supposed to be watching a movie but that lasted about twenty minutes before they took their pants off, Steve fingered him while sticking his tongue down his throat. Then Bucky got in Steve's lap and started riding him.

Bucky slides himself up and down Steve's cock slowly. He likes taking his time in the beginning before his head fogs.

"You riding me, sweetheart?" Steve purrs.

He can't say what it is but when Steve talks to him like that, points out exactly what he's doing in that sweet, syrupy voice, god bucky feels on fire. He wants to melt into the man, get Steve as deep inside of him as possible.

Bucky nods, sitting back down to the root and stilling for a moment. His eyes close from the feeling of Steve fully inside of him. It's still not enough until Steve says, "You like taking all of me darlin'? Yeah, I know you do."

He lifts Bucky's hips up then starts thrusting into him fast and hard. It vibrates through Bucky, every ram of Steve's cock is sending bolts of pleasure through his entire body. He doesn't know how it's possible, how Steve makes him feel so damn much.

Even after he comes, Steve's still fucking him, and it's like his orgasm just blends one endless wave of pleasure into another. Never fully ebbing even as Steve flips him onto his back, lying them flat on the couch so he can fuck him with his legs spread in the air.

The pleasure keeps layering over the last until he's coming with Steve this time. They both moan, both panting out harsh breaths. But Bucky's not done, neither is Steve. They need more. Steve slides back in, pushing through his release dripping out of him, and fucks him again.

It's hours later, they're both in the bath.

In the beginning, they had to be wary of bathing together because resting their naked bodies against each other would start the pattern all over again. They'd lose another few hours and really tire each other out.

But now, they've had sex in the bath and shower — and everywhere — enough to know they prefer it on a dry surface where they have the space for every part of each other to be accessible to the other.

Bucky's back is resting against Steve's chest, his legs barricading his. Steve's thumb is making slow circles on his chest. It's calming, perfect like always.

Bucky breathes in slowly, the thought comes back to his mind.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," Steve whispers. He sounds so relaxed, they both are.

"Is... when we... have sex, is it... good for you?"

He feels Steve stiffen behind him, ever so slightly, and his heart begins to race suddenly. He hadn't thought about how he'd feel if Steve told him he wasn't satisfied.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

Bucky feels his face blush, he's happy they can't look at each other.

"Can you just answer."

"Buck," Steve sighs. "Of course, it is. Jesus, I thought it was obvious I can't get enough. I thought — oh god, is it good for you?"

"Yes! Obviously, it is," Bucky responds immediately.

"Well, I thought it was obvious for me too. What would make you think I wasn't enjoying myself?"

"I just... get lost in it sometimes," Bucky admits quietly. "Too much. And that's never happened before. I'm pretty sure I just end up lying there for most of it."

Steve huffs out a laugh, at least it sounds like it. Bucky snaps his head around with a look of disbelief. Steve's laughing?

Steve turns him around, hiking Bucky's thighs over his own so Bucky's sitting in his lap facing him now.

"Buck, you don't just lie there. Are you kidding? You do get lost in it, yeah, but that's my absolute favorite part."

"It is?"

"Yes, god. You're not just lying there, Buck. You're writhing under me, moaning my name, digging your nails into my skin. Watching what my cock does to you does more for me than you know."

"Yeah?" Bucky smiles, relief washes through him, and also a flash of heat.

"How long have you been worrying about this?"

Bucky averts his gaze, feeling embarrassed when he says, "A while."

"Jesus, I hate that. I hate that you would ever spend a second worrying," Steve says then he cups Bucky's face to force his eyes back to him. "If you ever need to know how I'm feeling, you ask."

It's definitely a command, it makes a thrilling shiver run through him. He loves when Steve talks to him like that too.

Bucky nods as a response.

"Use your words."

"I'll ask next time."

"Right away."

"Right away," Bucky confirms.

Steve leans forward to kiss him then lets him go, letting his hands fall to Bucky's thighs.

"Good. Let's dry off before I think too much about my cock inside you."

Bucky shudders as Steve's hands lift him up. It's too late, he's already hard by the time they dry off. They fuck again before bed.

The next few times they fuck, Bucky's honestly not worrying anymore. He knows Steve wouldn't lie to him. But it ends up, Steve's been thinking about it since the bath.

Every time Steve's inside of him now, when Bucky's giving himself over to the lust, Steve's talking him through it. Telling him exactly what he's doing to him, what it feels like to bury his cock inside him, what it does to him to watch him come.

He's not sure if Steve's intent was to assure him of their talk, but it's doing much more than that. It's turning Bucky on to an unbelievable degree. He didn't think it was possible to be any more turned on. It's truly unfair how much Steve's words affect him in the bedroom. Now, Steve's doubling down on talking him through every fuck. Bucky comes harder than he ever has and he was coming was plenty hard before.

Bucky actually needs a break from it. It's too good, he needs one night to let his body fully calm down.

That night, Steve rolls over and starts kissing him. They haven't had sex since the morning and he knows what's coming. But Bucky has to pull back and lie that he's tired.

Steve stares at him like he has another head. To be fair, their endurance and energy levels are much the same so it's not a very good excuse to tell Steve he's only tired.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks.

"Yeah, I just need a little break."

"What?" Steve sits straight up. "Was it something I said?"

"No," Bucky laughs but the terror on Steve's face tells him to keep explaining himself. "No, no I like it too much."

Steve looks confused. "I'm not following."

"I need a break, a small one. I swear, you're like a drug. It's too good. I'm still feeling the three orgasms from this morning. And I love it, seriously, but since you've been talking so much more during it... it's on another level."

Steve's eyebrows raise. "So you like the talking?"

"I'm having an out of body experience, Stevie."

A grin wipes across Steve's face then. "So you're saying I'm the best sex you've ever had?"

The smile falls off Steve's face when Bucky laughs but he didn't mean it that way.

"You seriously need me to answer that? I told you I was losing my mind from how good it is and you actually need me to say the words."

"It'd be nice," Steve shrugs, biting back a new smile.

Bucky shakes his head, smiling incredulously. He leans in close, leaving an inch between them.

"Steve Rogers, you're the best damn sex I've ever had. Now if you'd be so kind, I need a tiny break from a hundred orgasms a day. So I'd just like to sleep tonight."

Steve's smile is beyond smug. He closes the space between them to plant a small peck on Bucky's lips.

"That's all I wanted to hear. Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight," Bucky says, rolling his eyes.

They wrap themselves around each other and sleep for the night.

By the next morning, they're fucking like rabbits again. Only now Steve makes sure to remind Bucky every day of how he's the best lay Bucky's ever had.

But Bucky's the best he's ever had too, so it's fine.

#stucky #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic #stucky smut #oneshot

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animeniacss · 7 months ago

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Seoksoo - imperfect - Part 1 - Chapter 16 - What Comes Next For Us?

Synopsis: Lee Seokmin likes a lot of things: karaoke, stuffed animals, his friends, his family (when they're not at each other's throats), and when things go according to plan. It's perfect that way. That is...until Joshua Hong, the Education Department TA, stumbles into his view one day and suddenly Seokmin has to start facing the fact that maybe not everything in life will be perfect...but with Joshua, that might just be ok.

Tags: College!AU, ActingMajor!Seokmin, Teacher!Joshua, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Side GyuCheol, Side JunHao, Side Verkwan, Other Idol appearances, Anxiety/Panic Attacks, Domestic Violence (not between the main couple), Joshua is a dork 90% of the time, (More Tags will be Added as needed)

Length: approx. 7.2k words

Chapter 16 - What Comes Next For Us?

Seokmin’s neck was sore when he woke up. He rubbed the tight spot, sitting up straight. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the room. When they did, they steadied on the figure in the hospital bed scrolling on his phone. Seokmin’s eyes widened.

“Hyung!” He gasped seeing Joshua’s wide eyes shoot in his direction. “Are you okay?!” He looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s ten in the morning. Has a nurse or something come in?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “She brought breakfast.” He motioned to the half-empty plate at his bedside. “Hungry?” Seokmin smiled a bit, shaking his head. “Hospital food in Korea is much better than hospital food in America.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. Did the nurse say what caused you to faint?” Joshua avoided his gaze for a second, licking his lips and looking down at his phone. Seokmin held his breath a second as he waited for an answer, but saw the clear discomfort in his eyes. “How long are you supposed to be in for?”

“Just a few days.” He said. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward on the bed. “Did you stay the entire night?”

“Of course, I did. I couldn’t leave you…” Seokmin took the chair he was sitting on and scooted it closer up to Joshua’s side. The back of his hand pressed against the bandage on Joshua’s forehead. “You have a really big welt there. You hit your head hard.”

“It doesn’t take from my beauty, does it?” he smirked. Seokmin’s cheeks turned red, but he chuckled.

“No, I guess not.”

“You guess?” Joshua’s eyes widened along with his grin. “Wow, wound me even more, why don’t you.” He lay back in bed, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. Seokmin snorted.

“You have a lot of energy for someone stuck in a hospital bed.”

“Can’t hear you. I’m dead.” Joshua whispered. When Seokmin turned his chair around to cover his laugh, Joshua looked over and sat up again. “Seokmin?” His voice sounded a bit less playful. “I realized you never got to tell me what you wanted to, before this all happened.” Joshua shifted a bit in the bed. “What was it? I’m all ears.” He motioned to his face. “And nose. And eyes.” Seokmin chuckled shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well.” Seokmin began. He couldn’t imagine confessing his feelings to Joshua in the middle of a hospital room less than 24 hours after his skull introduced itself to a marble floor. It felt…awkward. So, he only said: “I got the lead in the play. That’s all.”

Joshua’s eyes sparkled; two dim lamps whose bulbs found a reason to flicker back on. “That’s all? Seokmin, that’s awesome!” He reached out and took his hands in his own, grinning. “I knew you would! I’m so happy for you!”

Seokmin’s smile melted into a shy laugh. “Thank you. I’m excited.” He felt the way his heart twisted in his chest, silently yelling out in hopes it would be able to share its thoughts too. Seokmin only swallowed, nodding his head.

“Well I’ll make sure to take you out to celebrate once I’m discharged. Okay? I promise!” Seokmin’s cheeks turned pink and he nodded. After a second, Joshua’s smile faded and his hands loosened from Seokmin’s; palms putting gentle pressure onto his forehead. “Augh. Damn it.”

“Headache?” Seokmin asked, receiving a nod. He shot up. “Let me see if I can find a nurse. Don’t go anywhere.” Joshua looked over at him and smirked behind his hands, holding up the arm with the IV in it. Seokmin blushed, laughing nervously. “Right." Just as Seokmin was about to head out the door, he heard muffled footsteps running towards it. He stepped out of the way. His timing was perfect, as within seconds, the door flung open. Seokmin flinched, the door slamming against the wall.

“Hong Jisoo!” Seokmin looked up to see Jeonghan standing at the door, Nayeon behind him. Even shouting, Seokmin noticed how… soft the male’s voice really was. However, he was still stunned into silence. “What the hell happened?”

“Well, funny story.” Joshua began, watching as his friend came to the side of the bed. Seokmin looked over at Nayeon, who only offered a sweet smile. Again, it comforted Seokmin a bit.

“I told you this would happen if you kept pushing yourself.”

“It’s really not as serious as you think.”

“The nurse said you have a concussion and said your vitals were all out of wack from not eating and your body was shutting down from exhaustion, how on earth is that not serious?” Seokmin felt the hair on his arms stick up as Jeonghan spilled his diagnosis. He pressed harder against the wall in hopes it would swallow him up and spit him out on the other side. “We didn’t hear from you all night. We were terrified. I got a call from the hospital; thank God you listed me as your emergency contact.” Jeonghan’s expression switched from annoyed to concerned. “Do you know how worried we were? How worried I was?”

When Seokmin saw Joshua’s eyes cast down into his lap, he swallowed what felt like a rock in his throat. “I didn’t have your number. I’m sorry.” Jeonghan and Joshua looked over at Seokmin as he shifted on his feet. “And I didn’t have Joshua-hyung’s phone. I think I fell asleep as soon as I was allowed to come in….”

Jeonghan sighed. “It’s not your fault.” He assured. “It’s this idiot’s fault for working himself into an early grave.”

“Hey.” Joshua frowned.

Jeonghan didn’t even look over at him. “You know I’m right.”

Quiet for a second, Joshua pursed his lips together. “I’m sorry…” he finally said. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.” Jeonghan sank onto Joshua’s bedside, running a hand through his hair. He turned and stared at Joshua; lips still tugged in an annoyed line.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” He said simply. “But I am exhausted from running up the steps. The things I do for you.”

“But I’m honored.” Joshua cooed.

Seokmin watched the duo from the door, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans to keep them hidden. He could feel them shaking, and he wondered how noticeable it was. Nayeon leaned closer to him, a playful grin on her face. “Maybe we should leave them alone.” She teased. “I feel like we’re interrupting the dramatic reunion in a drama.” He only offered a polite, almost nervous chuckle at her joke. When he looked back at Joshua and Jeonghan, Joshua was filling his friend in on what happened.

“Seokmin went to get some ice when I fell in the bathroom.” Maybe it was just the Whack-a-mole game starting up in the back of his brain, but Seokmin immediately his chest tightened, looking down at his feet. The little hammer in his brain kept hitting the ‘GUILT’ button over and over, to the point where Seokmin felt like he was going to vomit. He turned his head, covering his mouth.

“Hey, you okay?” Nayeon asked softly, a supportive hand on his shoulder. Seokmin looked over, nodding quickly.

“I’m just tired, I think…” he said softly. “That’s all, I’m okay.”

Joshua’s voice piped up from the other end of the room, making Seokmin look back over. “Do me a favor, Hannie. Take him home so he can get some sleep.” Joshua requested.

“What?” Seokmin’s eyes widened. “No. Why…?” He sounded almost hurt.

“Seokmin, you need to go home and sleep.” Joshua said. “I’m just going to sit around here bored. You just said you were tired…”

“But-.”

“Jeonghan, please.” Joshua turned to his friend once again.

Nayeon’s hand left Seokmin’s shoulder. “I’ll stay until you get back.” Nayeon offered, running a hand through her hair to fix her ponytail.

Jeonghan glanced at his friend, not taking long to contemplate before sighing. “Alright. Do you need anything while I’m out, Joshuji?” Joshua smiled at the sound of his nickname, but shook his head. Jeonghan got up and patted Seokmin on his shoulder. “Come on.”

“I…” Seokmin felt silent. “Hyung, I want to stay.” His voice was soft, hoping Joshua wouldn’t hear him. His only reply with a sympathetic look. “But-.”

“He’s right… You’ve been here all night, and you can tell. You should go home and get some sleep.” Seokmin was silent for a moment, thinking if he said something he could stay. However, not wanting to risk causing a scene at Joshua’s bedside, he simply nodded before walking back to Joshua.

“Uhm…” Seokmin pushed his fingers together. “Promise you’ll call if you need me, okay? The bus ride from my apartment isn’t long. I’ll even walk if I have too, so-.” Joshua chuckled.

“I should be fine, but you’ll be the first person I call.” His expression then got a bit serious. “But not for a few hours. Go home and promise you’ll sleep.”

“Look at yourself in the mirror and say that, Joshuji.” Jeonghan called from the door, hands in his pocket. He motioned to the door, smiling when Seokmin quietly followed behind. He turned his head just as Nayeon plopped herself on the chair at Joshua’s side, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV as the duo fell into their own conversation.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

The car ride was quiet at first, Seokmin’s eyes glued to his lap. He had only seen Jeonghan a handful of times, so he wasn’t sure what to say when it was just the both of them. He looked up to Jeonghan as he pulled up to the red light, one hand on the steering wheel as the other brushed hair from his face.

Jeonghan, much like Joshua, was devastatingly handsome. Beautiful, even. It made sense that he was a model, it looked as if he stepped off a runway even now, in a gray sweatshirt and pair of light denim jeans. Seokmin could only look at him for a few seconds with his captivating side profile. The stunning visuals, paired with a focused, neutral expression sent shivers down his spine. He felt as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. Jeonghan finally spoke, his voice gentle:

“Don’t be upset about Joshua telling you to go home, okay?”

“Wh- I’m not.” Seokmin said. He heard Jeonghan only hum in response, and the bubble his lie was in popped almost immediately.

“Thank you for getting him to the hospital. I’m sorry I wasn’t home.”

Seokmin shook his head. “I should have noticed it was really bad, the second I saw him open the door.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He could barely stand up and all I could think about was myself. I didn’t even go into the bathroom with him when I knew he could barely stand. I’m sorry…” Jeonghan smiled a bit, the car slowly rolling past the light as it turned green.

“Don’t be. Joshua wouldn’t want you to be sorry.”

“But …Nayeon-noona said he gets really hyper focused on studying. I didn’t realize how much though, I should have checked up on him more.”

“I’ve known Joshua since we were kids.” He said. “I’m sure you knew.” Seokmin nodded. “We saw each other almost every summer our whole lives. I spent most of my afternoons on the phone with him while he would be up all-night studying, just to make sure if he passed out, I could call his mom or something. He never did.” He chuckled. “Maybe he doesn’t trust me enough...” His eyes fell back to Seokmin for a second. “At least, not in the way he trusts you.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Seokmin’s eyes widened. Jeonghan only shrugged. Eyes unsure where to look, they glanced out the window just as the car hooked a right. “You’ve known him much longer than I have.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Jeonghan agreed. “Time doesn’t mean anything, though. It’s the connection that’s more important. I only knew Nayeon a few weeks before we started dating, and I realized right away that I was totally crazy about her. I was with my ex-boyfriend for almost two years and I don’t think I ever felt nearly the same for him.” Seokmin nodded as he listened. “I think it’s the same for you guys. It doesn’t matter if you’ve only known each other a short while, it’s clear you two have a strong connection. I can’t assume how you feel for him, but I know Joshua really trusts you and likes being around you.”

“Yeah?” Jeonghan nodded.

“He needs to figure a lot of things out about himself, and I think he’s scared for you to see him do it.” Jeonghan leaned against the steering wheel. “No one expects you to wait around while he does, though. You have your own things in your life, it wouldn’t be fair of me, or him, or anyone to expect you to take on more than you can handle.”

Seokmin was silent for a moment, before looking to Jeonghan with nervous eyes to assure: “I want to.” He felt his cheeks turn a bit pink. “I don’t think I’ll be of much help but…” He offered a smile. “I like spending time with Joshua, so if I can be of any help to him, I want to be.”

Jeonghan formed a little smile, nodding his head. “Then he has nothing to worry about. And neither do you.” He assured. “If you want to go visit him another day, let me know. He’ll kill me if he finds out I let you walk.”

Seokmin chuckled. “Thanks, Hyung.” He said, finally slipping out of the car. Heading towards the apartment, Seokmin turned at the sound of Jeonghan’s car starting up. With one final wave, Seokmin let the apartment doors close behind him as he headed to the elevator.

The trip up the elevator was silent, Seokmin standing to the side as a mother tried wrangling her young daughter to her side. The sound of the little girl trotting around the elevator was just barely enough to drown out the thoughts pressing into his brain and crushing it. The shock of what happened, the guilt of not being able to properly help, the memories that being in that situation trudged up. Memories he thought that he had finally forgotten – or at least tucked far enough into the closet of his memories. However, the closet had become much too overstuffed in recent years, and Seokmin found it starting to overflow when the stinging sensation of tears pricked at his eyes.

When the girl bumped into Seokmin, he looked down. Her head tilted up, little black space buns and bangs hanging slightly askew. Seokmin quickly turned his gaze, wiping his eyes. How embarrassing. He thought to himself. That mother is going to think I’m a freak…who cries alone in an elevator?

“Aerum, come here.” He heard the mother call, and he simply slipped his hands in his pockets and looked up at the elevator numbers, praying his would come soon. “Apologize to him, Aerum. You can’t run around like that.” Seokmin finally looked over, seeing the little girl poking out from behind her mother’s leg.

“Sorry…” she said sheepishly. Seokmin only offered a small smile.

“It’s okay. Are you hurt?” the girl shook her head. “Okay, good.” The brief distraction was enough to keep his tears from spilling, but only for a moment.

“Are you alright?” the mother asked. While he knew she was most likely asking about his leg, he had to take an extra deep breath. The elevator buzzed, and he quickly nodded his head, feeling his eyes get fuzzy.

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, before quickly heading off the elevator and straight down the hall. When he heard the elevator doors close, he looked to the first apartment that hit his sights. He was 3 floors above where he was supposed to be. He’d rather take the stairs the rest of the way than stand one more second in the presence of anyone else.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

When Seokmin finally stepped into his apartment, he could barely close the door before he was attacked to the floor. The force of the hit stunned him for a second, eyes blinking a few times to remind him of where he was. “Wh-.”

“Hyung, where were you?!” The high-pitched voice in his ear was immediately recognized as Seungkwan, who was clinging to him for dear life. Seokmin reached his hand up, patting him on the shoulder.

“I can’t breathe…” he coughed out. Seungkwan pulled back, eyes welling with tears that probably mirrored Seokmin’s own expression.

“You never came home. I tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail.” Seokmin immediately remembered the cellphone in his back pocket that he’d yet to take out, most likely dead since he hadn’t felt it vibrating.

My mother’s probably called every police station in the country….He thought to himself as he pulled the phone out.

“What happened?!”

“I….” Seokmin clicked his phone, confirming it was in fact dead when nothing but his stunned expression looked back at him on the screen. “I’m sorry…”

“What happened?” Seungkwan asked again, voice gentler now as he loosened his grip on his friend. “I was so worried.” Seokmin rose from the floor and kicked his shoes off, heading into the bedroom to charge his phone. “Hyung.” Seungkwan called, following after him.

“Sorry, I…hold on.” Seokmin knelt at his bedside, shakily plugging in his phone. He saw the little charging symbol pop up. He sighed, waiting for the phone screen to brighten up and give him a rough estimate of how pissed his mother was going to be when he called back. He needed time to prepare. Seungkwan sat on the bed, recapturing Seokmin’s attention. He saw the worried look in his friend’s eyes and felt his throat close up again. His legs gave out and he lost his balance, falling onto his hip before resetting himself into a sitting position. “I had to take Joshua-hyung to the hospital last night. That’s where I was….”

“What?!” Seungkwan gasped, immediately hopping down on the floor by his side. “Is he okay?!”

Seokmin nodded. “He has a concussion, I think. He didn’t look good when I went to see him.” Seokmin felt his eyes water. “He told me everything was okay with him but I should’ve known he wasn’t telling me the truth. Right before I said anything to him, he got-.” Seokmin motioned to his nose, but that wasn’t enough to get the point across. “He got a nosebleed and all the light went from his eyes. He passed out in the bathroom and I thought he was dead for a few seconds and-.” The longer Seokmin rambled, the more tears welled up in his eyes. The more tears that welled in his eyes, shaky hands rubbing his eyes in hopes to brush them away. The more he wiped his eyes, the redder they got and the harder the tear drops fell into his lap. “I couldn’t do anything to help him…”

“Oh, Hyung…” Seungkwan pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back. “No, no that’s not true…” Seokmin clung to him as he cried. “You took him to the hospital. That’s exactly what you should’ve done.”

“But if I noticed earlier, I could’ve at least driven him or taken a bus. Or I could have caught him when he fell if I stayed with him instead of going to get stupid frozen corn…” Seokmin sniffled. “And he wouldn’t have hit his head.” Seokmin pulled back to gasp for air, giving Seungkwan a chance to lean to the end table and grab a few tissues, passing them over to his friend. “And I worried everyone because I didn’t even think to make phone calls the entire time.” He wiped his eyes. “And he must be mad at me for it. He didn’t even want me there. As soon as Jeonghan and his girlfriend came, he made them take me home…”

“I’m sure that’s not true either…” Seungkwan said gently. “Calm down, Hyung. It’s okay…”

Seungkwan’s gentle reassurance was suddenly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of Seokmin’s phone vibration; messages finally flooding in once his phone turned on. Seokmin looked up, wiping his eyes as the sound flooded his ears. It took a solid 2 minutes for all of the message notifications to register on the phone. When Seokmin went to reach for it, Seungkwan took his wrist. “Don’t worry about that.”

“But my Mom...”

“Mingyu-hyung can handle that. I’ll have him call her back and say you’re at the apartment.” Seokmin didn’t look convinced, but Seungkwan simply grabbed his phone and sent a text. “There.” He turned the phone to Seokmin’s view, saying Seokmin was home and to let his mother know that his phone died. He stood up, offering a hand to his red-eyed friend. “Come on. You should get some sleep. You must have been up all night…”

Seokmin took his hand to stand up. “I guess so…” he said softly. Without putting up much of a fight, mainly because he had cried all of the fight he had into Seungkwan’s shirt, Seokmin crawled into bed, sticking his head under the pillow. He heard Seungkwan chuckle.

“You look like an ostrich in the sand.” He teased. “Need anything? Water?” Seokmin shook his head, the pillow moving in tandem with the motion. “Okay. I’ll be in the living room.”

Seokmin lay still for a few seconds, making sure Seungkwan really left the room and closed the door behind him. When the room fell quiet, Seokmin stuck his head out from under the pillow and blanket, reaching for his phone and opening up his mother’s messages.

[Mama Bear] (10hr ago): Hi honey call me later.

[Mama Bear] (8hr ago): Hello?

[Mama Bear] (7hr ago): Seokmin.

[Mama Bear] (7 missed calls)

[Kyungie <3] (6hr ago): Oppa, Mom’s going fucking nuts where are you? I called Mingyu-oppa too. He’s on the phone with Mom right now.

[Kyungie <3] (6 missed calls)

[Auntie] (4 missed calls)

[Auntie] (5hrs ago): Where are you? Your mother’s worried. If you can’t tell her, tell me so one of us at least knows you’re safe.

Seokmin scrolled down the waterfall of messages on his phone in the family group chat. When he reached the bottom, the most recent message came into view.

[Mama Bear] (now): Mingyu called and said your phone died and you are home. Call me when it charges….

Seokmin sat up in bed. He could hear his mom’s voice in each message, and it made his heart form a violent drum beat in his chest. However, even though his eyes were heavy and his brain already mentally taxed, he dialed his mother’s phone number and pressed the phone to his ear.

Within seconds of answering the phone, Seokmin’s mother began shouting at him for how much she worried the entire night, how she was tempted to call the police, and how he needs to listen about charging his phone if he plans to be out because “Your no-good father did this all the time! You can’t make me worry like this!” The entire time Seokmin sat in silence, staring at himself in the mirror in the corner of his room. For a brief moment, another, much kinder voice took over his thoughts.

You have your own things in your life, it wouldn’t be fair of me, or him, or anyone to expect you to take on more than you can handle.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

Seokmin spent most of the weekend curled up in bed, hoping that when he woke up on Monday, things would be normal again. However, as the morning turned to evening, he realized it would be far from normal. His mind was plagued with thoughts of Joshua in the hospital, unable to think about anything other than his well-being. He sent texts between classes, but Joshua expressed how exhausted he had been, and that he was falling in and out of sleep the entire weekend.

[Seokmin] (now): I’ll come by after my cast meeting ends, okay?

[Shua] (now): I’ll be here. I don’t think they’re letting me go yet.

Seokmin smiled at the photo Joshua took of himself still in the hospital bed, a look of overexaggerated boredom on his face. Handsome even with a white bandage smack in the middle of his forehead, it seemed.

His admiration of Joshua’s selfie was interrupted when a heavy arm was slung over his shoulder. Looking over, Junhui was staring down at Seokmin’s phone, grinning when Seokmin held it away. “What? Hiding the good stuff from me?”

“You’re gross.” Seokmin pouted, and Junhui snickered. The duo sat on the edge of the auditorium, waiting for Jihoon and Soonyoung to arrive for their first cast meeting. Soonyoung had sent it into the newly formed group chat. “What are you doing Wednesday?”

“Minghao and I have dinner reservations.” He said. When Seokmin grinned, Junhui immediately frowned. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” he asked curiously.

“Like a date. You’re making a date face.”

“Am not.” Seokmin said, playfully batting his eyelashes. Junhui only rolled his eyes. “I was asking if you wanted to practice going over our monologues after school, that’s all.”

“You’re done?” Seokmin shrugged. He passed his phone over to his friend.

“I have enough for our rough draft submission, so I guess I’m done for now.” Junhui silently skimmed the Google Doc, eyebrows furrowed together in concentration. Seokmin read it as judgment, and he immediately piped up again: “Well, I mean it’s only a rough draft, so if there’s anything not good in there, I’m going to fix it so-.” Junhui looked at him, and Seokmin’s shoulders sank. “It’s bad, isn’t it? So bad. Like ‘I need to move out of the country, change my name, and live as a monk in the mountains of Tibet’ bad, right?”

“Jesus, Seokmin, we get it, you can act.” Junhui teased, and Seokmin’s cheeks turned red. “No, it’s fine. I just feel like everyone’s going to write about a play, or a musical, or something.”

“You’re not.” Junhui didn’t respond beyond a proud grin on his face, handing the phone back to Seokmin. “Should I change it?”

“I think what you should do is write about something that is unique to you. Something nobody else in class is able to experience. That’s the point of a monologue, right? To express the feelings of the reader in a way only they understand.”

“I guess.” Seokmin looked back down at his phone. “I’ll play around with it…”

Before their conversation could continue, the doors to the auditorium busted open, and Soonyoung was grinning at everyone. He and Jihoon both had large, square boxes in their hands, Soonyoung’s smile so big his eyes were basically disappearing behind his puffed cheeks.

“We brought pizza.” He said proudly. Seokmin heard the rest of the cast devolve into eager chatter as they all gathered together.

“We’re glad everyone could make it on such short notice.” Jihoon said.

“I had to cancel my chiropractic appointment to be here.” Seokjin called from the back, a bit of annoyance in his voice. Seokmin turned his head to acknowledge Seokjin’s comment while the rest of the room rolled their eyes. However, he was only met with an even more annoyed look, and Seokmin decided it was best not to look at Kim Seokjin if he didn’t have to.

“Well, we thank you and your unaligned spine for being able to reschedule.” Jihoon passed out papers to each cast member as he spoke. “This is a schedule for rehearsals, cast meetings, dress rehearsals, and all of the shows. We’re hoping this doesn’t get changed, but if anything, we’ll tell you.” Seokmin skimmed his schedule.

“Today is a team building day.” Soonyoung grinned. “So, relax, mingle. Have fun! Just please, don’t start any relationships with anyone, though. One time, we found out that the people we casted as ‘Evan’ and ‘Connor’ from Dear Evan Hansen were dating, then broke up the day before dress rehearsals.” His strained grin screamed PTSD from the incident that Seokmin had only heard about, as it occurred before he enrolled. “So, please don’t date anyone.”

“Well, there goes our epic romance, Seokmin.” Junhui teased in a whisper, grinning when Seokmin laughed at his side.

The cast settled around the pizza boxes, taking the paper plates and slices. Everyone began mingling; cast members with stage crew, the fashion department with the art club. The entire time, Seokmin sat by Junhui and Minghao’s side, he listened to some of their conversations and jumped in where he could. He didn’t have much to say at the moment, his mind filled with other things that weigh heavy on his mind. The entire hour they spent in the auditorium, Seokmin could only think of one thing:

Joshua must be really lonely in the hospital right now. What can I get him to eat?

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

The bus seats were colder than they had been the past few days. However, Seokmin hopped onto the first one that pulled up to the school’s entrance. Nestling into a seat, he looked out the window and watched as his breath cracked along the glass, spreading a foggy mist before his eyes. He settled the plastic bag filled with snacks and food from the school café onto his lap. It was still hot; Seokmin was able to buy it right before the café closed.

Other than the person behind him shouting on the phone with his girlfriend, the ride was quiet. Several times, Seokmin thought about turning around and asking him to quiet down, but decided against it when he realized he’d have no way to escape the situation if it got hostile. Even moreso, the silence would lead to a Whack-a-mole game of thoughts starting up in his head, and he wasn’t in the mood to lose another round. So, he simply bit his lip and waited for the hospital to appear into view, darting off the bus at the closest stop and finishing the journey on foot.

The overlapping chatter in the waiting room made Seokmin’s chest tighten almost immediately, eyes darting between doctors and nurses rushing in every direction. He needed a second to remind himself of what he was here to do, needed to blink a few times to recenter himself. He looked down the hallway that led to an elevator. Joshua’s room was on the fifth floor, so, holding the bag of now slightly warmed food, he made his way down the hallway.

When he got to the fifth floor, turning the corner and saying hello to the nursing station, he headed to the last room in the hallway. As he got closer, he heard talking coming from Joshua’s room. His feet slowed just outside the door. It was cracked open a bit, Seokmin peering in enough to see Joshua, with Jeonghan perched at the foot of his hospital bed.

“Why can’t you just bring it? I’m stuck here.” Joshua asked. Exhaustion was burned into his features as he spoke.

“Joshua, you’re in the hospital because you almost worked yourself to death. Why would I bring your school work to you? That’s just adding more fuel to the fire!”

“Because when I eventually get out of here, I’ll be behind!” He said. “And then I’ll only have more stuff to do. I’ll never be able to catch up. Is that what you want?”

“And then you’ll end up back in the hospital. Is that what you want?” Jeonghan’s voice raised just a bit, and it made Seokmin duck behind the door, pressing his back against the wall as he listened. He gripped the bag of food in his hands. Was this a bad time? Should he leave? “Joshua, you can’t. I’m not bringing your work here.”

“Jeonghan.” Joshua was almost begging. “Please, I have so much left to do.”

“I already reached out to the school and told them what happened. Your professors all said-.”

“You what?!” Joshua’s hands tangled in his hair, falling back on the bed with a groan. “Jeonghan, why?”

“Joshua, you’re in the hospital!” He hissed. Seokmin heard the older of the two let out a groan in annoyance as he kept repeating himself. “You can be angry with me all you want. I’m not going to bring you any textbooks. You can do work when you’re better, and discharged.” He turned towards the door, Seokmin pressing himself farther out of view. “I need to go. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

When footsteps were heard, Seokmin wondered if he could run fast enough to be out of the hospital before Jeonghan saw him. He wouldn’t, but it didn’t matter. Jeonghan stepped outside, and the duo immediately locked eyed. The olders expression immediately softened, seemingly relieved at Seokmin’s presence. Seokmin watched him turn the corner and disappear from sight, before turning back into the room. Joshua still had his hands tangled in his bangs, gripping them in annoyance.

Seokmin hesitated, but stepped in. A few steps in, and the sound of the door closing behind him alerted Joshua to him. He looked up, almost ready to argue again with his narrowed eyes and annoyed pout. However, when he saw Seokmin, his expression immediately changed to one of shock. “Hey…” he sounded shocked.

“Hey.” Seokmin smiled shyly. “’How are you feeling?”

Joshua shrugged. “Just a headache.” His eyes immediately fell to the bag in Seokmin’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh!” He hurried to Joshua's bedside, sitting down beside him and opening the bag. Joshua leaned forward eagerly, and Seokmin immediately noticed the gap close between him. He shot his eyes down to the food once again, pulling it out. “I got you something to eat from the campus cafeteria since you haven’t been at school. Chicken and noodles were all they had left though.” Joshua’s eyes widened as if he was just given the winning lottery ticket.

“Oh, thank you!” He beamed. Seokmin smiled. “I’m starving.” Seokmin watched him open it up, chopsticks in hand as he began to eat. “Mmm. I needed this, thank you.”

“Of course.” Seokmin sat for a minute, watching as Joshua ate eagerly, almost as if he hadn’t in months. “Shua-Hyung…”

“Hm?” Joshua’s eyes perked up from the meal, but he continued eating. Seokmin debated asking about the argument he had stepped in on, but he was unsure if it would put Joshua in a bad mood again. “What’s wrong?” Joshua’s voice hinted at some concern, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Well.” Seokmin shifted. “I heard you and Jeonghan-hyung arguing. Is everything okay?” Joshua’s lips dipped into a frown, and Seokmin’s heart stopped beating for a second. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to!” He said quickly. “I’m sorry, I overheard when I came to the door.”

Joshua set the food on his lap and gave a defeated sigh. “I probably have to be in here another day or two. They said my levels were still not where they need to be and they want to make sure they regulate again before I get discharged.” Joshua leaned back against the bed. “I was hoping to go home and catch up on my work.”

“Oh…” Seokmin bit the inside of his lip. “How much do you have to do?”

“A lot. And Jeonghan doesn’t get that.” He said. “I have discussion work to finish, and I have three papers due. I was supposed to be observed by my advisor doing one of the discussions today, but that’s obviously not happening.” He sighed. “I would have had it done last night, but I’ve been here.” Gesturing with frustration at his current surroundings. The more things he listed, the more his pupils began to lose focus. He looked more and more panicked with each thing he realized he had to get done. “Plus, I have to get ready for finals. I got a lot of studying done already, but there’s still at least three weeks of content left we haven’t learned, so I wanted to get a head start with-.”

Seokmin’s first thought was to lean forward and put his hand in Joshua’s hair. The touch caught Joshua off guard, eyes wide as he looked up at the arm now outstretched between them. It took a second for Seokmin to realize what had happened, and his hand immediately pulled back. “Sorry!” He exclaimed, cheeks a cherry red. “I just…that usually calms me down when I’m anxious – not saying you’re anxious, but-.” Joshua’s eyes steadied, face softening as he reached out for Seokmin’s hand again. Seokmin immediately reached it back out, allowing Joshua to guide it back into his hair.

“No, it’s okay.” He said softly. Seokmin scooted closer to find a more comfortable position in his arm. Joshua scooted over a bit, allowing the duo to sit side by side, Seokmin’s hand gliding through his hair. Exhaling through his nose, Joshua finally continued eating, his entire body loosening up. “I can see why you like it when I do this. It’s nice.”

“My Auntie used to do it for me and my sister a lot. Mainly my sister, because she’d style her hair. But I asked her to do it for me too, so she always does it when she comes to visit.” Joshua nodded, sticking some more food in his mouth. Seokmin watched him for a minute, studying his side profile as his cheeks puffed up with a new bite of food.

He needs to figure things out for himself, and I think he’s scared for you to see him do it.

Jeonghan’s words bubbled in Seokmin’s throat, but simply came out as a rushed, “Let me help you.”

Joshua chuckled, turning to look at him. “Seokmin, I didn’t break my hands, I can feed myself.”

“What? No.” Seokmin’s cheek tinted red just as they were about to fade back to their normal color. “Let me help you with organizing your school stuff.” Joshua’s smile dropped, chopsticks stopping midair. “I have schoolwork too, and finals. We can figure out what you should do first. Maybe if we do that, you won’t think you need to get all of it done at once.”

“Do you think I haven’t tried to make a schedule?” Joshua asked. Seokmin went silent. “It doesn’t work. I have stuff to do, I need to get it all done, and there’s nothing that takes priority over the other. My priority is getting it all done right.”

“But if you keep pushing yourself, you’ll end up right back here.” Seokmin said softly. “And what if nobody’s home the next time? Jeonghan-hyung and Nayeon-noona were going out on a date, and we didn’t plan to see each other this time.” Seokmin swallowed the burning in his throat. “If you fainted all alone, who knows what would’ve happened.” Joshua sighed. “I don’t know if I’ll be much help figuring out what’s got to get done first, because I don’t know your classes well enough. But we can study together. And when it feels like you need a break…” he blushed a bit. “We can take a break together. And then study together again, and break again…until finals are over. And we’ll do it again for midterms next term….”

Joshua paused for a minute, seeming to really take the offer into consideration. Seokmin’s hand continued running through his brown locks, waiting patiently for him to provide an answer. Finally, Joshua allowed his head to fall and rest on Seokmin’s shoulder. Despite his tone sounding as if he was inconvenienced by the initial suggestion, he nodded his head where it fell and with a sigh of relief, replied, “That sounds amazing.”

Seokmin smiled, nodding his head, feeling the theoretical storm around the older clear just a bit. “Okay. Then, we can get started when you get discharged.” Joshua groaned, this time out of genuine annoyance, and Seokmin only laughed a bit. “It’s better this way. Okay?”

Joshua tilted his head to look up at Seokmin, pouting. “Yea, I know…” He mumbled.

Seokmin felt his heart skip a beat. If he were a more confident person, he’d have kissed Joshua right there. But a simple smile down at him was enough, before Joshua turned back to his meal and continued eating in silence.

⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔(im)perfect🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌⚔🦌

Seokmin spent the rest of the evening keeping Joshua company. The older had fallen asleep as the duo watched TV in silence. Even if he tried to deny his exhaustion, his body was taking advantage of this time in the hospital to fully recharge itself, a feeling Joshua so rarely seemed to experience. Seokmin sat in the chair by his bed, scrolling away on his phone. Occasionally, his eyes fell to the older, studying his sleeping frame. He wanted Joshua to be comfortable for as long as he could, so he would stay by his side as long as he had too, even if it meant sitting in silence with a crick in his neck.

With time to kill, Seokmin had pulled up the Google Document with his monologue half-typed. He skimmed through it one more time and frowned. It felt even more painful to read now than it did on campus. He could only imagine how bad it would be to read aloud in front of everyone. He would certainly end up being a laughing stock in his class. He sighed, typing a few random words before ultimately deleting them, hoping somehow his brain would conjure up something worth fleshing out. Five minutes of retyping ‘I hate Kim Seokjin’ over and over again didn’t help at all, and only made him panic that somehow, the guy could see his messages. He closed his phone and stuck it in his pocket.

From the corner of his eye, Joshua shifted in his sleep, tossing the blanket off of himself. Seokmin chuckled. This was the first time he had seen Joshua asleep; finding it to be just as beautiful as when he was awake. Joshua’s face tightened in his sleep, seemingly put off by the sudden cold chill that surrounded him. Seokmin leaned forward, fixing the blanket around both of them. “There.” He smiled proudly to himself. Even in a white hospital room, there was a domestic feeling bubbling in his chest as he watched Joshua’s face soften, head nestling his shoulder as he continued to sleep. Seokmin brushed a few pieces of hair from his face, before resting back against the back of the bed. Visiting hours were almost over, he’d be asked to leave soon. The closeness of a safe and resting Joshua calmed Seokmins' worried heart, and the quiet company made it easy for him to try and focus on his monologue.

Think about something that’s unique to you. Something nobody else in class could be experiencing right now.

Junhui’s words dug deep into Seokmin’s ears as he glanced at the sleeping figure beside him. Nobody else could be experiencing the perfection that was Joshua Hong, not in the way that he was able to. But writing about his connection with someone else, putting it on paper makes it real. If something is real, it can be taken away in the blink of an eye.

Joshua hummed, muttering incoherent English under his breath. Seokmin couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but a fondness bloomed in his belly. Seokmin wanted Joshua all to himself; wanted every one of his future memories to have Joshua entangled in it somehow.

But Seokmin wasn’t the type of person to be selfish…Right?

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