#is there a way to ignore all the awkward phrasing and shit and just focus on content?

[psqqa]

if they wanted me to edit these research guides in a timely manner they should have written them better

[whumperstorm]

Suppressing Fire Part 5

Content: Vampire whumper, defiant whumpee, loneliness, Attempted murder, death wish, broken bones, torture, despair :)

First/Previous/Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's a dark shift in Keegan's character after the night of the phone call. She goes quiet. Completely shuts down. The universe is cruel, she thinks, for letting her get so close just to yank her away from her sister once again. At least she knows Lohitha is safe, but now that she's no longer so preoccupied with worry, all she feels is miserable longing. There's a gaping hole where her heart should be and it aches. She can be selfish now and all her selfish thoughts revolve around a single phrase.

I want to go home.

Hearing her friend's voice over the phone has reopened old wounds. She misses Vivian and the other hunters desperately. She misses her quaint life. She misses the little Italian place down the street and the neighbor's scruffy cat. She misses the sun. It's been so long now that she wonders if she'd burn like a vampire the next time she steps into the light.

Keegan buries the sadness in her hatred like she always does. The only person she ever sees is the man who has caused all of her suffering. Every day he comes into the room and steals her blood, often chatting with her like nothing is wrong. 

You did this to me. She thinks, her blood boiling. She wishes it would burn him when he feeds. 

She imagines staking his heart every time his fangs pierce her neck. She fantasizes about the light leaving his eyes. Still, she doesn't fight back anymore. It’s not worth it. Kane seems happy with what he probably perceives as submissiveness, but the violence builds up inside her just the same. She knows she can't go back to complacency. She'll either escape soon, or die trying.

---

Six months after the reunion, Keegan finally gets her chance. She spends the evening blankly staring at the television in the living room. She ignores Kane nearby, and he ignores her. The next time she wakes back inside her prison, she notices the door has been left slightly ajar.

Kane didn't lock her away properly. 

Holy shit. 

What time is it? She tends to wake up a bit before him, but he could be up any minute. Has she already missed her chance?

She scrambles out of bed and carefully peeks out the door. The ornate clock down the hall confirms her fears. The sun has just set. She could still run and try to get to a hiding place before he catches her, but it's too risky. There's a lot of open space between her and the cover of the forest and vampires are fast. She would never make it.

But… there's another way. Unlike in her prison, the rest of the house is filled with wood. In other words, a weapon. She hasn't had access to a weapon since her first escape attempt years ago. And he's asleep.

That spark of realization ignites the hatred inside her like a match to kerosene. Forget running. She could kill him. That would certainly ensure her escape. She wants to kill him. For everything he’s put her through and more. Her eyes land on a small wooden chair nearby. She snatches it up and slips back into her room. 

She closes the door, wraps one of the chair legs in her bed sheets to muffle any noise and then kicks with all her might. It takes a couple tries at the awkward angle, but eventually it folds with a satisfying SNAP. She's left with a rudimentary stake and she barks out a somewhat unhinged laugh.

This is really happening.

She takes a moment to center herself, she must focus. Then carefully, oh so carefully, she makes her way upstairs. Every tiny creak of the steps has her freezing in terror, waiting for any sign that Kane has woken up. She's as tense as a board, sweat dripping down her brow. As she approaches the bedroom door she doesn't dare to breathe. She turns the knob, thanking all that's holy that the door doesn't squeak.

There he is. Kane almost looks peaceful, his constant scowl softened by sleep. Keegan has a passing thought of how unfair this is, attacking him when he can't defend himself. But it's brief. As a human she's been at a disadvantage her entire life. Finally, it's his turn.

Step.

Step.

Closer and closer until she's right next to him. Her heart is pounding out of her chest. She half expects him to wake from that alone but he doesn’t stir. 

It's now or never. 

She leans over and positions the stake over his heart. 

She raises her arm-

Kane wakes to the smell of human far closer than it should be. He gasps as his eyes fly open, witnessing a stake dive for his heart. He grabs the human's wrist tight and in a flash he flips their positions, pinning her to his bed by the wrists. It takes him a moment to process the situation, but quickly his expression of pure shock morphs into a furious glare. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he shouts down at her, though he full-well knows the answer.

Keegan struggles frantically against his grip, screaming angrily. "No, NO! LET GO OF ME!"

She was so close. She could taste freedom! She's not ready to accept defeat. She kicks at his stomach furiously. "Fuck you!! Let me go!"

"You're out of control!" Kane snaps, largely unaffected by her struggles. "That's it! I'm not tolerating your bullshit any longer!"

He grabs the human by the hair and gets up, hauling her out the bedroom, down the hall and to the stairs. Keegan shouts in pain as she’s dragged, her scalp burning from the pressure of her body weight. She claws at Kane’s hands but his grip is like steel.

Keegan doesn't have time to catch herself before Kane throws her down the stairs, uncaring for her well-being. She tumbles violently and her body is a mess of pain in seconds, bruises forming from every hard wooden step.

She lands at the bottom with a thud, her head smacking the floor hard enough to see stars. Pain radiates from her arm like someone took a hammer to it. She moans, trying to right herself.

Kane is by her side again in an instant to make sure she will never escape again. A harsh stomp of his foot on her shin sends a loud crack reverberating through the room. 

"That will teach you who you're messing with," he hisses.

Keegan screams in agony as her leg snaps like a twig. She has never been in this much pain and she can't stand it. She reaches desperately for the ruined limb as if touching it will somehow fix what has been done to it. She rides out multiple blinding waves of pain before she can see Kane's figure standing over her through her tears. Her head is thick with nausea but she glares at him out of the corner of her eye and her voice trembles with hatred and pain. "F-fuck.... Y-you."

He presses his foot down harder.

"Submit!" he screams, furious she would disrespect him even now. He is stronger, better, and more worthy than her in every way. He will force her to respect him.

Keegan's scream turns to a choke and she grinds her head into the floor. "NO!" She forces out, vision wavering. God, it hurts. "I'll kill you! Son of a BITCH."

"You won't. You can’t. Do you want me to break the other leg?" Kane asks, seething.

Keegan definitely doesn't want that. She can't run with her leg like this, and wouldn’t be able to walk at all with both of them mangled.

"I'm stronger than you." Kane continues. "You have no power here. You will fucking respect me, whether you want to or not. You have no choice! That's the way humans are supposed to be!" He grinds his shoe against the break.

Keegan wails in agony and despair because he's right. She has nothing. She was so close and failed so spectacularly. She's never going to see her family again. 

“Just kill me!" She cries. "Let me go or kill me! I can't live like this anymore. I won't!"

"You will! You're mine! You're my food, and there's nothing you can do about it! I can make a human submit to my will as much as any other vampire!" Kane does not let up. "Admit it! I'm stronger than you, and there is nothing you can do to stand against me!"

Keegan cries into the floor. Tortured, humiliated, completely and utterly spent. She wants to give up, shut down completely, but she can't even do that. Shocks of pain continue to fry her nerves and it's too much. Kane isn't going to stop until she submits. She bites her lip, holding out as long as she can, but finally her terror wins over when something inside her ruined leg shifts.

"O-okay! Okay stop! P-please!" She's going to pass out, blood draining from her head.

Kane removes himself from the human, taking a single step back. "I want to hear you say it."

The release of pressure on her leg brings both relief and more agony. Keegan curls up over it immediately, hands hovering over the gruesome injury, too afraid to touch. She's shaking uncontrollably from pain and fear and her stomach churns with bile. Her eyes shine with tears as she looks up at Kane. She stays quiet and tries to convince herself that it's from defiance, but she truly just can't find the willpower to speak.

"Say it!" Kane demands. He steps forward again, but doesn't touch her. "I'm stronger than you. You're powerless against me. You're mine forever. Say. It."

Maybe it's the fact that the human really did almost kill him, but his heart is racing. It's not even fear of death, not really. All he can think about is what his family would think of him if he were killed by his own human.

Keegan flinches hard when Kane moves towards her. "Y-you- you're stronger than me..." She sputters out. God, don't hurt me anymore. Please.

Her face burns with shame. "I'm p-powerless..." It's true, even with him asleep and a stake in her hand she couldn't finish the job.

"I'm..." She hangs her head. "I'm yours forever."

"That's right." Satisfied he's made his point, he reaches down and hefts the human up over his shoulder. He carries her into the human quarters and sets her on the bed. "Now. Your purpose." He shoves her head to the side, bites into her neck, and feeds.

Keegan tries not to writhe in Kane's grip and she cuts off another scream when he drops her on the bed. The bite is hardly noticeable past the all-encompassing agony of her leg, but it still feels like defeat. She cries silently as he feeds. There's no fight left in her.

Kane licks the wound closed. "I'll see you tomorrow." When he leaves, he double-checks that the door is securely locked.

It takes her an unbearably long time, but eventually, inch by inch, Keegan is able to lie back against the headboard with her ruined leg propped up by pillows. She spends the night like that, unable to move or get up to eat or drink. She eventually hobbles her way to the bathroom once, but the pain grows so terrible by the end that she spends half an hour on the tile floor, dreading the trip back to bed. She needs a cast or splint or something or she won't be able to function.

She doesn't really care, though. She can't escape, can't fight back, so why bother? She misses multiple meals before she's starving enough to drag herself to the kitchen. Somehow there's still a ghost of self preservation inside her that she can't seem to shake off. 

She'll stay alive, even if it hurts. Even if it's pointless. Even if she’d rather die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @whumpsday @not-a-space-alien @anomalys-taxonomy @what-if-i-just-did @dragonqueenslayer6

@jumpywhumpywriter @writereleaserepeat

[gayofthefae]

Thinking about unreliable narration and how Mike called Will a “douche” and he wouldn’t be so upset and say that if he didn’t really believe. So let’s recap a bit from Mike’s POV instead:

Will hasn’t been calling Mike back, which is the only way for Mike to actually reach him since the line is always busy, then he shows up to see him and goes in for a hug but catches himself because that would probably just make things more awkward and he can take a hint. El has their whole day planned so they go around town showing him Lenora and Will doesn’t engage much so - yeah, guess he was right about that. I mean, really, 9 months, like two calls, and he doesn’t even miss him enough to not seem like he’s looking for an escape? This continues at the roller rink and he’s just letting it slide and trying to enjoy his day anyways and if Will wants to talk to him, he will - he hopes. Will doesn’t. Not until, of course, he tries to vaguely accuse that El is lying to him which - okay, he knew he was ignoring him, but now he’s actively trying to ruin the time he’s spending with El too?! Okay, turns out she really was lying. But if that was the case, why not tell him in the morning when she first lied about Stacy and Angela? Why commit harder to avoiding him than telling him something like that? Why even wait until today? She’s been lying in her letters too! He couldn’t call even just to say something and then hang up? Either way, there were plenty of opportunities all day to talk to him with that excuse even if it was just to say that but he still didn’t even take those. So he says all that because god damnit, he tried to brush it off but it’s been building in him all day. So he tells Will - he calls him out for ignoring him all day. And then Will says - “Sorry if I wasn’t smiling” all smartass and that’s not what he meant! Why is looking for the worst in what he’s saying? If he wants an excuse to stop being his friend just say that, not all this bullshit. He wasn’t ignoring Will. Will was ignoring him. Why make something up just to have something to fire back? So yeah, he walks away. Because he certainly doesn’t see this conversation getting any better and maybe they can come back to it later but right now they need to find El so Will, can we please just put down whatever this is and do that instead? But then he says “what about us?” And it sounds...genuine. “...what?” And Will...Will says he didn’t talk to him because he thought Mike didn’t want to talk to him. Because he didn’t call? But that’s not what happened? And he’s bringing up the letters and comparing himself to El and it’s getting a little too close to home and maybe it even feels a little like the comment Mike made to Will last year. It isn’t as direct but still - just in case that’s what he meant - he defends himself: “we’re friends. we’re friends” is the answer he thinks Will is looking for. Because comparing himself to how Mike treats his girlfriend (in the 80s?) sounds a hell of a lot like an accusation, really. "Well, we used to be best friends”. He’s right. And they’re not. Not right now at least. And it’s sad. It’s a reminder he didn’t really wanna let himself fully acknowledge. And he hopes all this means Will does want to be best friends again but for right now, he doesn’t how to make that happen and he’s tired and this is all just a lot and right now, their focus should be on El anyways. They can talk about this later.

Then there’s chaos and it distracts them from their whole fight and everything. And all three of them sit in the back not talking. He thinks maybe El just wants to alone with her thoughts as she’s staring out the window right now. And it didn’t seem like Will really wanted to talk to him at the moment. Jonathan and Argyle are stupid high when they get home for dinner and one of them says that everything is fine and the stuff that went wrong wasn’t that bad and that’s not true. The whole day was absolute shit and in retrospect he definitely phrased that wrong, he didn’t mean to say that El really injured Angela or that she was a bad person or anything, just that he can’t just pretend like everything is fine again. It wasn’t when Will wasn’t calling, it wasn’t when El was bullied today, it wasn’t when she hit Angela with that skate, it wasn’t when the backseat of the van was silent and the front really couldn’t read the room. “She didn’t look fine”. Because she wasn’t. He wasn’t. None of this was fine. [to reference s2: “No! It’s not! It’s not okay! None of this O-KAY”]. El doesn’t come to breakfast the next morning. So he just sits in awkward silence with Will. Jonathan suggests they go to a movie and he’s just trying to help but yeah, they should probably just cool off today. So he takes El’s Eggos to her - and he doesn’t notice Will looking at him. 

He tries to check in with El and hopes she’s ready to open up. She isn’t. He pushes, gently, because they really should talk about it. She opens up a little and he tries to understand even when she says he can’t. Because he wants to. And he really wants to be there for her. So he tries his best to understand and to comfort her and to validate her and tell her he understands it’s hard to see when you’re insecure but he really doesn’t see her negatively. But apparently somehow, just like yesterday with Will, he’s saying all the wrong things because he says “care” and she hears “not love” and he tells her of course he does! But then she brings out proof and he honestly hadn’t even noticed he didn’t sign his letters “love” but now it’s right in front of him and she needs him and she needs it and...he can’t say it. And he doesn’t know why.

She gets...arrested before they can make up but it is nice that in that chaos, Will drops the whole “not talking to him” thing (but he’s a little distracted because the fight with El still isn’t resolved. And she wrote “From, El” which can’t be a good sign.) But then Will tells him it’s gonna be okay and he looks at him and remembers that he can’t control the El thing right now, but what he does have is that Will is talking to him again. So he’ll just be in the moment and be grateful for that. And he really doesn’t wanna fuck things up any more by waiting until stakes and emotions are high to talk so he thanks Will for bringing him back to the present earlier and apologizes - because in retrospect, having had more time to rework the fact that Will really does still wanna be his friend (even if some of the events and things said are still a little confusing) and in retrospect with that in mind, yeah, he can see how some of the things said would have been okay to someone who didn’t wanna be his friend but that wasn’t the case. So he wants to make sure Will knows he only said that stuff because he was upset and he thought it was too late because now he knows it isn’t too late and he doesn’t want to wait until it is again to say that. So he asks to be best friends again. Because that actually did seem to be something Will missed too. And he said yes :) (he said yes![s2 ref again])

He wasn’t really a douchebag the rest of the season, I just wanted to that little character study on that line where he calls Will out and flip it because the POV we get to see is Will’s so it seems like he’s standing up and finally calling Mike out, but it’s a lot different if you think of it as Mike standing up and calling Will out. And by “a lot different”, I mean exactly the same for both of them.

[unfoundhoney]

toe the line ; part three ↠

↠ slimecicle x fem!reader ; angst , the fluff will get here eventually i promise

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ; part four

↠ @ochabby @kiritokunuwu @pyrotechnics84 @nottheotheruser @d0vesatdawn @ashturnedtomist @bloopi @enderhoe @plaguenecromancer @prickypearpropaganda @phantom-aurora @starswspacey

It’s funny how true the saying “you never miss something until it’s gone” is. If Charlie had to describe how the last two weeks have been, it’d be like that. He didn’t think it was humanly possible to miss someone so much, to actually have every second of every day be taken up by the thought of you. He’d been trying to work but with a blatant lack of you, he hadn’t been able to focus and decided to take a walk to clear his head.

It wasn’t helping.

A man walks past with a big, floofy, white dog on a leash. You would stop to ask to pet it. You always loved dogs and Charlie has no doubt in his mind that if your apartment building allowed pets, there’d be at least one living with you and him.

There’s a bookstore on the corner of a street. You would poke your head in, look around for a while and buy some novel by an author you’d never heard of. It’d probably lay unopened for a couple months until you suddenly remembered it one day and binged it in under three days.

A street musician plays across the street in a park, improving on his saxophone over a jazzy backing track. You would insist on staying to listen, waiting until he finished this song, applauding, and giving him ten dollars or so. Charlie stuffs his hands a little deeper in his pockets and keeps walking.

What was supposed to be a head-clearing (and distracting) walk has turned into the exact opposite. Charlie knows he won’t be getting any more work done today.

It starts to rain as he walks but he doesn’t head back, instead walking farther and into a different park. As it rains harder, he finds a bench to sit on. The cold and wet he finds himself submerged in distracts him better than anything else has been able to.

Water drips inside his collar and soon he finds himself soaked through. Still, he just sits there, staring straight ahead of him and focusing on the uncomfortable feeling of being fully clothed and completely wet.

He doesn’t know how long he sat there. Minutes. An hour. Two hours. But suddenly the rain stops. He’s no longer being showered with water droplets, even as the rain continues pouring all around him.

“Charlie? You okay, man?”

Charlie looks up and funnily enough, there’s Ted. He’s holding an umbrella over Charlie, looking down at him in concern. He realizes how bad this must look, sat in the rain looking dead inside.

“What’re you doing?” Ted asks slowly.

“Just... chilling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You good?”

“I’m doing great.” He gestures generally, tries to crack a joke. “Can’t you tell?”

Ted doesn’t smile. “Dude, seriously. Are you okay?”

Charlie swallows, smile fading. He wants so badly to say “yeah, I am” and be able to mean it. He’s the one who messed everything up; he doesn’t have a right to be feeling this bad with you gone when he was the one who chased you away. And yet here he is, sitting in the rain.

“No.”

“...let’s go back to your place.”

Ted walks Charlie back home, sharing his umbrella despite the fact that Charlie is already totally soaked. Ted doesn’t seem to mind too much when Charlie drips on him; he’s likely more worried about Charlie than his left side getting a little wet.

They get back to Charlie’s apartment and Charlie changes quickly into dry clothes before joining Ted in the living room. It’s painstakingly obvious when Ted unknowingly sits in your spot.

After several minutes of awkward silence and even more awkward attempts at small talk, Ted finally asks the question he’s been meaning to for two weeks.

“How’s um... How’s Y/N?” Ted tries tentatively.

“She’s okay. Sort of. I think.”

“You think?”

“She’s kind of been avoiding me. She’s been staying at Schlatt’s for the past eleven days.”

“She has?”

“I think she needed some space, but it’s been over a week now and I’m kind of deteriorating away in the silence of our apartment alone.”

“Have you tried talking to her about... it?”

“You mean her feelings for me that she’s had for years and I’ve never noticed and then accidentally outed in front of all our friends and neither of us are sure our relationship will recover because we don’t know how to act now that we’re both aware one of us wants more than platonic friendship?”

“...yes.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It sounds really bad when you phrase it like you just did but there’s no way around this,” Ted says. “I know how much you two care about each other. You two would be miserable without each other.”

“We- We’d be... fine.”

“That was the most unconvincing thing I have ever heard in my entire life.”

“I-“

“Not to mention the fact that you are literally living proof that you are not fine without Y/N.”

“Doctor Ted PhD is making a reappearance,” Charlie weakly tries to joke.

“Charlie.”

Ted did just find Charlie having a rather severe episode of “main character syndrome,” so there’s really no arguing with him. He is not doing fine without you. It’s only going to get worse the longer he goes without trying to reassemble the shattered pieces of your friendship.

Charlie’s will finally gives way. “I don’t know what to do, man. I fucked up so bad and now I’m terrified I’m never going to be able to get back to where we were. Everywhere I go all I can think about is her and she just- I have never been happier than I am when I’m with her and I just-... I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose her.”

Charlie buries his head in his hands, heels of his palms digging into his eyes. He’s finally letting himself be distressed over the very real possibility of losing his best friend instead of ignoring the situation entirely.

Meanwhile, Ted is connecting some very obvious dots.

“She’s all you can think about?”

“Yeah, like, I’ll just be going to the store or something and it’s like ‘oh, she’d smell those flowers,’ ‘she’d drag me to try that restaurant,’ ‘she’d go to see that movie with me.’”

“And you’re happiest with her.”

“Yeah, man. I’ve had other friends, other best friends even, but no one compares to her and how she just gets me. You’ve seen it; we have this synergy that I have never gotten with anyone else.”

“And you are very worried about the possibility of losing her.”

“...yes. Are you just repeating what I’ve said?”

“Just waiting for you to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

Ted doesn’t respond, holding the silence patiently. Charlie continues to look at him, confused. The apartment is quiet, not quite in the unbearable way it is when he’s alone but it still doesn’t feel right without you here.

For eleven days, you haven’t sung in the shower. You haven’t made breakfast just how he likes it. You haven’t distracted him from work to show him a TikTok, not that he ever minded. You haven’t fallen asleep on movie night and he’d willingly carry you to bed if you asked him sleepily, kind of wishing you’d ask him to stay with you one night.

You would grab his hand and ask him to stay. He’d do so without hesitation. Curled together under the covers, you would be close and warm and intimate in a new but welcome way. He’d hold you tight, your breath soft against his neck.

Wait.

Charlie looks up in horror. “No.”

Ted narrowly stops the shit-eating grin from spreading across his face. “Yes.”

“No. No no no, shit.”

“I am so happy I get to be here for this.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ted,” Charlie cuts him off.

He’s angry. Not at Ted but at himself. He rushes over to the door, shoving his feet back into his still-wet shoes.

“I’ve fucked up so bad. Oh my god, this is all my fault.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“God, shut up, you are not helping.”

“Sorry, just telling it like it is.”

Charlie glares at Ted. “Show yourself out.”

Charlie takes off out of the apartment without an umbrella again, completely prepared to get another set of clothes completely soaked. He prays to whatever higher power may be listening that you have the ungodly amount of forgiveness that will be needed to forgive his stupidity.

[unohanadaydreams]

Polyandrous, sexy, hot relationship between fem reader and Shinji, Rose and Kensei😈😈😈🔥🔥🔥 (sorry, I had a typo in the previous ask😓🤭🙃😄)

Oh my god. Like, imagine being the filling between three captains….real hot girl shit.

Features: Smut, a lil angst, and me bending my back to make these three bang reader and each other.

this is fantasy not a how-to guide on poly relationships thanks.

largely unedited bc its thirst post tower content, and pretty much all consent is implied instead of strictly stated. i checked with all 4 of them though and they told ME it’s consensual. Except Kensei. He told me to fuck off ):

Triple Threat Team-up

(Shinji Hirako x Rose Otoribashi x Kensei Muguruma x F!Reader):

How it seeded:

The relationship started with Rose. He wooed you with his flowery words and romantic fashion, paired well with his cool demeanor. Although some of his ideas on love are dated, he’s not one you could call traditional.

As a group, the vizards have endured much and gained little unless they gave to each other. When Shinji walks in on you and Rose naked, using his shunpo to grab a CD before leaving, you find it odd. Rose does not.

He admits that most of the vizards have been some form of...thing at some time in the past. “You can’t be too shocked,” he says. “It’s hard to stay warm in a warehouse.” The phrasing is odd, letting you know there’s something more he means than winter temperatures.

How it took root:

Shinji is odd too. Casual, yet guarded in a way that becomes awkward should he be forced to relax. There is always a joke or gross face or biting word that keeps him at a distance.

The trick is alcohol, like it is for most people. Rose displays you, a bloom with glistening petals and fragrant scent at every private party he arranges. And eventually, Shinji stops finding reasons to flee, his fingers skimming your petal-soft skin as he kisses Rose.

The two of you lure Shinji in, kissing him softly, feeding him well, and paying him attention when he knocks on the window. Who doesn’t love a stray coaxed into domestication?

Rose speaks like he’s telling a story, his eyes most often on yours, his calloused fingers feeling their way down your body until you have to break the eye contact. You never feel like he’s playing you--using you like one does an instrument--, not at all. If anything, you feel as though he’s teaching you a dance, his steady instruction bringing you to revelation each lesson.

Shinji’s eyes are always, always moving to drink in your body as he moves with you, his mouth just as restless. He can never settle on the perfect position, always toying with having more of his body on yours versus more of your body on display. Each time is a revolving puzzle of moments that end well and make him want to test again.

Together, they are easily overwhelming, even when their focus is on each other. Rose’s proclivity for words gets Shinji’s skin flushed as much as yours. Shinji’s restless approach to sex keeps your eyes excited, the play of their bodies combining with the rise and fall of their voices to make for a thrilling, climactic show.

How it sprouted:

If anyone has taken the repositioning to the Seireitei like a bullet, it’s Kensei. He’s not one for shows of sentimentality, leaving the vizards in the human world be, half to keep from missing them and half to stay sane away from them. And the separation feels cruel, a sloppy sever somewhere inside of him that he refuses to see.

The news of Rose and Shinji sharing you wrinkles his nose at first. Really? Is it some kind of middle finger to the “Man”? Seems ostentatious, how open they are about it, like shoving their tongues down your throat in his personal quarters is acceptable. Sure, he’s cooking with his full, undivided attention on the kitchen, but Kensei still has ears. No way would he purposefully hone in on the wet sounds and mewling of you being pressed in between their bodies in the other room as his sauce breaks.

After a sound lecture, Rose and Shinji seem to get the message. Sort of. The couple nights a week that they insist are Kensei’s turn to cook, a nostalgic bit that squeezes his heart enough to agree to, still happen. But it’s just you and Kensei.

And eventually, Kensei can’t help but ask the questions he wants to know, albeit fueled by visible frustration. It’s aggressive and a bit mocking, how he asks, but you answer freely. Which doesn’t help. Just like waking up wet in the pants and sweaty night after night at the thought of picking you up and fucking you in front of Shinji and Rose to teach them a lesson on home etiquette doesn’t help.

The need and want and well of shitty fucking loneliness comes to a head when Rose and Shinji invite themselves back to dinner one night, Shinji’s hand toying with your thigh as Rose whispers something that glazes your eyes.

One of the pots over boils when Shinji palms between your legs with one hand, his other coaxing a saucer of sake past your lips. Rose is between you and Shinji, his fingers kneading your waists.

That’s it, really. The food getting fucked over by his own inattention. The way your thighs are shaking as your kimono is un-tucked. The far too comfortable looks on Shinij and Rose’s degenerate fucking faces.

He makes what he’s been dreaming about for months into a reality, your squeaking morphing into low moans as he pounds into you, picking you up and away from the other two vizards each time they reach for you. They even beg a little and Kensei ignores their panting, their playing with one another, and pretends he’s teaching them a lesson.

How it blossomed:

Alcohol, food, and sex can’t soothe every tear, but they patch up enough to keep the wheels of your relationship greased. The sober statement that you are all in a relationship with each other does hit one of you with a splitting force at times. It’s not uncommon for someone to pull away, unsure how much their needed, wanted, or meant for such a thing.

But there are always enough hands to come around them, reassuring them back.

Kensei doesn’t lose his prickly sensibilities, almost never letting more than one of you touch him at once. He favors positions where he’s able to stand or kneel above one or two people, close enough be inside someone, but far enough to get away should be too much for him. Kensei is most uncomfortable fucking Rose; the dirty words constantly dripping from Rose’s lips and his eyes so focused on Kensei’s over stimulating. Kensei usually presses a hand over his face, muffling his look and words in one swift move.

He likes everyone having their place, approaching sex with three other people like a scene he’s seen before. Kensei loves attention, too. Rarely, he’ll let that show. Dropping his need to be in charge, he’ll let all three of you treat him to the full weight of your bodies and all that comes with it, usually three hands tugging cum to spill over his stomach as all of your mouths leave dark marks over the span of his body. Usually, he wants someone to drive into or a head to force deeper on his cock.

Rose loves those times the most, where everyone is stripped bare of their baggage, just bodies reaching for one another. Like those concerts where everyone is squished together, all feeling the music separately but together. His enjoyment of having some control is less about the power and more about the flow--it’s easier to make the ending come at just the right time when there isn’t a meaty hand squishing his face into the mattress. Anything that leaves his mouth free pleases him, especially if he’s able to drape himself over or in between bodies, guiding them closer to orgasm with verbal and physical encouragement.

Shinji doesn’t care about the positions or pace or anything outside of him being involved. He’s there and that’s vulnerability in itself. Saying that, the playing that thrills him most is the kind that makes him feel like he’s spilling over from contact alone. His body pressed under yours, his cock sliding at your back as you’re fucked above him. Or someone being hugged to him as he lays on his side, both he and them being fucked closer. His mouth is always happy to be at work, the flat of his tongue flicking his piercing over hot, puffy flesh.

Over all, your sex life probably has a color coated calendar--courtesy of Kensei--and you’re often doing overtime if you’re counting orgasms as work.

[whelvenwings]

Up to Date?

Length: ~5k Tags: Canon Divergent, Y yo a ti Cas timeline, Misunderstandings

It's three months after Castiel was brought back from the Empty after confessing his love to Dean, and things are awkward between them. They haven't talked about it. Castiel can feel how much Dean wants to, but he won't let himself, and Castiel can only wait. But one night, with Castiel halfway across the world, he gets a text from Dean that might change everything - even if Dean didn't quite mean it to.

Castiel

It was just awkward. Castiel couldn’t deny it. Things between himself and Dean were definitely awkward.

Three months back on Earth, safe from the Empty with a little help from the Winchesters and from Jack – but Castiel and Dean still hadn’t talked about it. The things that Castiel had said – and what Dean had said in return.

I love you. Me too, Cas.

Castiel knew he should have expected this, the awkwardness. Hadn’t he known Dean long enough, at this point, to be able to predict him? And there was nothing more predictable than Dean not wanting to talk about something.

Still, it hurt. There had been that shining moment of happiness, if a word as soft as happiness was even the right way to describe the feeling of absolute blazing corrosive joy that Castiel had felt when Dean had told him that his feelings were reciprocated. And now, there was just… silence.

It was awkward.

And Castiel didn’t know what to do. Was Dean waiting for him to say something? But Castiel had already said it all. It was Dean who’d only managed to choke out a few words, Dean who must have more to say. And yet he said nothing. Days were slipping past full of staring and loaded sentences and quietness.

The fact that it was all so familiar didn’t make it any better. Castiel wanted something different. It had been different before they’d said anything out loud, but – but there had been something about hearing Dean say those words, me too, Cas, that had changed everything.

He didn’t need much. Nothing grand or unusual, only something to ease the tension. Even if it was just an expression on Dean’s face that acknowledged what had passed between them, instead of pushing it away.

But Dean… Castiel knew it was different for him. There were things that Dean didn’t allow himself, for a tangle of reasons that Castiel only barely understood. Dean didn’t let himself touch. Dean didn’t let himself speak. Dean didn’t let himself look.

But Dean wanted to.

Castiel knew Dean wanted to. So many aching years that Dean had longed for him, and Castiel had been able to feel it like a prayer – and not some soft and murmured thing, a prayer of an older kind, something raw and wordless and desperate. Something on its knees. Castiel could feel the yearning in Dean. It would have been so simple for Castiel to offer touch, but Dean hadn’t ever really let him. And Dean still wasn’t letting him.

And Castiel could still feel the longing.

When they were together, and when they were several thousand miles apart, too. It was there. Never any quieter or gentler, not even from far away. It always touched the same place in Castiel’s grace that it had done from the start. And the feeling of it was just the same, too, like being doused in oil and dropped into flames that reached and hoped and hungered.

Beautiful fire. A beautiful prayer. Castiel wanted to answer it. Dean behaved as though he didn’t know it was there.

The tension in the bunker had become too much, last night, and Castiel had abruptly left with just a quick text to Dean.

> I’m going to look for the artifact Sam read about in Seoul. It shouldn’t be left unguarded.

The artifact was probably just a trinket, if Castiel was being honest with himself, and its significance paled in comparison to everything they’d been through, but it was a reason to get away from everything and give himself a break. It would have only taken Castiel moments to find the artifact if he’d wanted, but he drew it out. He walked rather than flying, pacing the streets of Seoul, following up on the leads that Sam had found. His grace hummed and sighed against Dean’s prayer.

He hoped that when he returned, something might be different. That he and Dean could talk. Maybe even – as he walked down a side-street with neon lights that glowed through the drizzling rain, Castiel allowed himself a wry little smile. Maybe even do something together. Go somewhere. Go on a date.

A date. To a human the word would probably sound little, and normal, and silly for an angel to be thinking about. But to Castiel, it just sounded like something new.

And it was so easy, somehow, to picture Dean coming into the bunker's kitchen, pointing at Castiel semi-aggressively, and saying, so. You, me, date. Up for it?

Would that be how Dean would phrase it? Castiel tried it a few different ways in his head. Down for it? How about it? You in? Each time, the Dean in Castiel's mind looked almost angry as he waited for an answer. Each time, Dean's face softened when Castiel said, yes.

So easy to imagine. So out of reach. Castiel walked on through Seoul, the rain starting to thrum down harder.

–––––

Dean

It was awkward.

Dean knew it was awkward, and he wasn’t thinking about it – he wasn’t. Except when Cas did stupid shit like ditching the bunker without warning, leaving just some handwritten note like a kid sneaking out of his tent at summer camp, it made it kind of harder to ignore.

Staring down at the note in the bunker’s library, Dean pressed his lips together and read it over again, his eyes scanning the words while his brain paid no attention to them, lost in thought.

There was something so ridiculous about it all. The moment between them, the – whatever it had been, when they’d admitted their crap to each other – it felt so overblown to look back on. Sure, Cas had had to summon the Empty, he’d had to get all deep just to save Dean’s hide. But Dean… what he’d said had just been stupid. No point to it. Dean cringed when he thought about it.

Me too, Cas.

The words were so little like something Dean would ever say that they might as well have been in a foreign language. Me too, Cas? That kind of thing didn’t have to be said. Because obviously, him too. But what were they supposed to do about it? Buy each other flowers? Feed each other chocolates? God forbid – hold hands?

Dean felt a little hot rush in his chest just thinking about it, and an accompanying stab of guilt. What were they, seventeen? They were old. Too old for flowers and chocolates. Too old for holding hands. And too old for this weird tension between them, Jesus. Who got nervous and tongue-tied and awkward around a crush at Dean’s age?

Who called it a crush at Dean’s age?

Dean, sat in the library at the bunker, dropped the note Cas had left and picked up his phone. Practicalities. Just focus on the practicalities. He should at least make sure Sam had kept Cas up to date with the latest research about the artifact that might be hidden in Seoul.

Dean tapped on the screen of his phone for a few seconds, holding it a little further away from his eyes than he used to have to do. He read over what he’d typed once, and then hit send.

–––––

Castiel

Castiel’s phone hummed.

With a little clench in his gut, Castiel stepped under the cover of a dark doorway to get out of the rain, and pulled it out of his pocket. Dean’s name was on the screen, obviously. There was the usual leap of excitement, tinged with a familiar sinking feeling in his chest. Dean would probably be angry with him for leaving.

With a stoic line to his jaw, Castiel opened the text, knowing it couldn’t be anything good.

> So. You up to date?

Castiel stared down at his phone.

No… no. He couldn’t have read that right. He blinked, and tried it again.

It still said the same thing.

You up to date?

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was… up to date? If he… wanted to date?

However many times Castiel reread the text, it said the same thing. Castiel stood absolutely still, his eyes puzzling out the letters of Dean’s message again and again.

It was – it was just the way Castiel had imagined it, if not word perfect. The brusque tone, the question. Castiel, half in shadow in a porch in rainy Seoul, stared down at his phone as if it had just promised him the moon.

Dean had just asked Castiel if he was up for dating.

Via text. Obviously. Maybe all this time, it had just been that trying to talk face-to-face had been too much. Maybe Castiel should have left for halfway across the world months ago.

Castiel could feel his heart pounding. He couldn’t stop himself reading Dean’s question, over and over again.

–––––

Dean

When the text from Cas finally came back, Dean snatched up his phone. It wasn’t that he’d been sitting and staring at it, waiting for a reply – he’d just got a little lost in thought, was all, wondering where Cas was and why he wasn’t answering sooner.

The text, though, when Dean read it, put a frown on his face.

> I’m so glad you asked. Yes, I would love to.

Wait. What? Dean checked over what he’d said himself in his first text, just to be sure he hadn’t made some kind of a typo. Nope, he’d definitely just asked if Cas was up to date with the artifact.

So, Cas would love to… what?

Cas was glad he’d asked about what?

None of it sounded like the answer to a simple question about research on an artifact, at all. Maybe Cas was just in the middle of something, and misread Dean’s text. Not something that had ever happened before, but still. Whatever.

Dean circled his thumbs over the keyboard on his screen, and then typed a reply.

< Love to do what

Keep it simple, he figured.

He sat puzzling over Cas’ first message as he waited for a reply. So glad you asked. What did that even mean? Was Cas ever particularly glad when Dean asked anything?

The reply came back quickly, this time.

> Anything you want to do. :) Maybe just going to a bar?

Dean squinted down at his phone.

Anything he wanted to do about what? A bar?

Was he losing it? Dean reread the text over and then over again, and looked back up their conversation to try to make Cas’ reply make sense. The emoticon was typical enough, even though Dean hadn’t seen a smiley one in a while. The way it made his chest squeeze was ridiculous. It was just a smile. And it just followed the words, anything you want to do.

Before he could let his mind run too far with what exactly that could mean, Dean texted back in confusion,

< You want to go to a bar?

There was something about this conversation that was making his heart beat harder. Come on, he told it. What, you can face down the end of the world more than once and a little text conversation still has you like this?

Ignoring his solid logic, Dean’s heart only raced faster when Cas texted back,

> Yes, of course. Unless you think it’s a bad idea?

So… Cas wanted to go to a bar? With Dean?

That was – well, it wasn’t that strange on Dean’s personal spectrum of strange to not strange these days. Fighting Death and God and God’s sister and all the rest of it kind of put a bunch of other strange crap way down the list. But this was still… weird. Not bad weird, necessarily.

But how had they got here, why were they talking about this? What kind of a bar, why? Dean had just wanted to check up on Cas in a few brief words and suddenly they were making evening plans? Cas was making no sense. Was he doing it on purpose? Dean read the whole conversation over again, and pulled a face of utter and annoyed confusion for the benefit of no one, and shook his head.

He thought about it, and licked his lips, and shook his head again.

And then thought some more, and made a hand gesture, as if asking of no one, what the fuck.

He texted out,

< What do u mean

He stared down at the text for a second, and then deleted it, and tried instead,

< Why are we talking about this

He didn’t even read that one over again before deleting it. He made another face, and then quickly typed and sent,

< But you’re in Seoul

However they’d arrived at the idea of going to a bar, it didn’t particularly matter when Castiel was thousands of miles away. Had deliberately ditched, in fact, which was more of an obstacle to them having a nice evening out tonight than the distance between them, but Dean wasn’t going to say that directly.

> Only for a short while longer. I’ve almost completed the search for the artifact. Then I’ll come back :)

Another damn smiley face, another little lift in Dean’s chest. Look at him. Fully grown, and soft over the idea of his best friend looking forward to spending an evening together. Yikes.

Practicalities. Dean fired off another text.

< Okay... you just wanna talk or what

If Cas was going to try to insist that they talk about stuff, well – the drinks would probably be a good place to start, but Dean would need to psych himself up to the idea of trying to explain anything at all that had happened between them. Me too, Cas. He kept hearing himself say it and wanting to bury his head in his hands. What had he been thinking. What had Cas been thinking, when he’d decided on Dean. That had to earn the award for the worst fucking choice in the history of the world.

Dean’s phone buzzed in his hands.

> I think talking is what people usually do on a date. But we don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Dean’s eyes went wide.

–––––

Castiel

Across the world, in the porch in Seoul, Castiel watched as Dean’s little typing bubble with three dot dot dots appeared, and disappeared, and reappeared.

He tried to quiet the excitement in his chest, tried to remind himself that Dean had just implied fairly heavily that he wouldn’t want to talk on their date – which wasn’t unexpected for Dean, but it did leave Castiel wondering what else Dean might want to do.

A thought occurred to Castiel about something they might be able to do without talking, and he swallowed, and felt his hopes fly higher.

Or perhaps Dean just wanted to sit together in silence. That would be alright, too. Companionship in the quiet. When he thought about it, Castiel knew it would be more than enough just to sit by Dean in a bar and drink together, knowing that they were both choosing to be there. Even if they didn’t say a single word the whole evening, even if Dean didn’t so much as look at him the whole night. They could spend the date speechlessly. But it would be a date. It would be an acknowledgement. Maybe it would ease a little of the longing that Castiel felt and felt and felt from Dean, burning.

Finally, a text from Dean came in.

> Wait what

Wait, what?

Castiel felt his heart sink.

There was something wrong. That tone, just two stark words – something wasn’t right. Castiel scrolled back up their conversation. Had he accidentally said something rude? He couldn’t find it, reading the texts over and then over again. He’d used emoticons to show that he was happy. Had they seemed sarcastic?

Did it seem as though Castiel didn’t really want to go on a date? Or that he wouldn’t really be content for them to not talk on the date? Hurriedly, Castiel began typing again.

< I mean it. We don’t have to say anything. I just want to be there with you.

It was the kind of text that Castiel would ordinarily type out and then delete because it was too forthright, too emotional, too much for Dean – but this time, he just hit send before he could think about it. Worse than Dean being grossed out by Castiel openly having feelings was the idea of Dean not knowing that Castiel really did feel those things.

There was a long silence. Castiel stood still, waiting for Dean.

How many times had he stood, quiet, expectant, wanting Dean to be ready, hoping he would be ready, prepared to wait for an eternity until he was? In the span of Castiel’s own lifetime, he’d waited just a blink of an eye. But somehow this blink had been torturously slow. A torture Castiel would have fought to the death before trading.

Castiel’s phone hummed.

> You really want to go on a date

Castiel stared down at the screen. He couldn’t tell if the tone was judgemental or vulnerable. He blinked, and thought hard – and then, with a little shake of his head and hard press of his lips, he made a choice.

Quite suddenly, the street in Seoul was empty.

–––––

Dean

Dean almost fell out of his chair when Cas appeared opposite him in the bunker.

“Shit!” Dean swore, grabbing the table in front of him with one hand. He watched as Cas tilted his head just slightly sideways at Dean’s other hand, instinctively on the butt of his gun.

He eased his hold.

“Could’ve killed you,” Dean mumbled. Cas smiled wryly.

“You could have tried,” he said.

Dean swallowed. Right. Angel powers were all the way back up, these days.

“You’re back,” he said blankly, just to say something, because immediately leaving the room didn’t seem like it would be a good idea – however much the nervousness in his brain was insisting that this conversation wasn’t going to go well, and he needed to bail.

“Yes.” Cas lifted his phone up to face Dean, so that Dean could read their conversation on the screen. Dean glanced over it. It was strange seeing his own words on the left side of the screen, almost embarrassing. “What does this mean?” Cas asked.

Dean got to his feet, feeling too low down still in his chair.

“Uh…” He watched Cas warily, while trying to keep his tone light. “You tell me, Cas.”

“No,” Cas said firmly. “You asked me if I really wanted to go on a date.”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

Cas stared at him, clearly expecting more. Dean tried waiting him out for a few seconds in silence, hoping Cas would say something else, but Cas had that determined look in his eye that told Dean he was going to have to be the one to say something.

“What about it?” Dean said.

“What does the question mean?” Cas asked.

“Well, Cas, it’s kind of all right there. In the message.”

“You just asked if I really want to go on a date,” Cas said again.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So, do you?”

It was all wrong. His tone was all wrong. It was aggressive, and blunt. He sounded outright angry at the idea that Cas might actually want to go on a date, and that tone didn’t even vaguely map over the ridiculous leap in his chest at the idea of a date together.

But somehow, Cas’ shoulders were dropping, and his face was relaxing, as though – as though that was what he’d been expecting to hear. Or even what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Yes,” Cas said.

Dean felt his mouth fall slightly open and his eyes go wide, and he looked away.

He could feel his breath suddenly coming a little short. He tried to stand very still and be very quiet so that Cas wouldn’t see what that one-word answer had meant. How much it had shaken Dean.

It was only when he heard the yes that he realised just how little he’d expected to ever hear it.

Cas wanted to date. The hot rush in Dean’s chest was back, and the accompanying punch of guilt readied itself… but held back. Because Cas had said yes.

He’d said yes.

“Is that a surprise?” Cas said, his tone dry but not unkind. Dean swallowed, and managed a smile when he looked back over.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Oh.” Cas looked confused. “But… I told you…”

“I know.” Dean shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d wanna do any of that crap, though. Human stuff.”

He saw something clear on Cas’ face, as though something that had been weighing on him had suddenly been lifted.

“Ah,” he said. “Well… I do. Want to.”

Dean nodded, once, a little sharply. God, he had no idea how to do this. And it didn’t help that he could feel things moving inside him, shifting, like walls crumbling, like stuff he’d smothered finally elbowing its way up to be felt – a blazing feeling, a hurting feeling, a wanting. Somehow both familiar and terrifying.

“Okay,” Dean managed aloud.

“As long as you still want to,” Cas said.

Still? Had Dean ever actually told Cas that he wanted to go on a date? Maybe he’d just been that obvious. Or maybe Cas had actually been able to guess what Dean wanted from the way Dean had said me too, Cas, even though Dean hadn’t been able to guess what Cas wanted in spite of literally being told I love you.

“Do you?” Cas asked, when Dean was silent for a second too long.

That wanting feeling, that hot tense ache that almost had Dean’s teeth gritting against it at this point, it was demanding a yes. It was saying go, go over there, what are you waiting for now? But Dean swallowed it. He couldn’t just have that. He couldn’t. Could he?

“Well,” he said. “I dunno. I mean. We are kinda old for it. Aren’t we?”

Dean watched Castiel consider it, his heart thudding.

“I’m fairly old,” Castiel said, “yes. But I think I’m still allowed to try new things.”

“New things,” Dean echoed.

“Yes.”

“Like… dating.”

“Yes,” Castiel said. “If you want to.”

“And like…” Dean went to say something else, and then stipped himself. Too many things all rushing to the front at once. Too many possibilities. Too many things that he’d given up thinking he could ever have. Too many things he’d told himself it was right that he didn’t have, because it’d be embarrassing if he did.

But now, here was Castiel, standing in front of him and saying he wanted to go on a date. Watching Dean quietly, waiting for him to finish what he’d started to say.

“Like…” Dean said, and then stopped again, and shook his head. “I don’t know, Cas. I’m not… you know.”

“You don’t want to?” Castiel said, the question spoken so neutrally that Dean knew it came with effort – Castiel’s muscles had to be heaving with holding that door open for Dean to leave through, if he wanted. But Castiel was still holding the door. Still saying, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.

“No, I – yeah. I mean, I – yeah, I want to,” Dean said, saying the last part to the floor. His chest felt as though it was going to crack open. He wanted walk around the table between him and Cas, and drop to his knees, and just ask Cas with his eyes to touch him, anywhere, anyhow, gentle or not. “Just… I mean, look at us. Are we really gonna fit with any of that crap?”

He couldn’t imagine them trying to do the usual sweet romantic stuff. Dates and gifts and cards and flowers. So stupid after everything they’d been through, like sticking heart-shaped bows on the muzzles of two rusting guns.

“What kind of crap?” Castiel asked.

“You know. The whole schtick. Lovey-dovey crap.” Dean mumbled it, aware that even in describing it he sounded ridiculous. Lovey-dovey? Christ.

“I thought we could just try things out,” Castiel said. “And see if we can do them our way.”

“But what if it doesn’t work,” Dean said, making an attempt not to sound too wretched. He watched Castiel, waiting for him to give up, to say this was already too much work, that it wasn’t worth it, and they should just carry on going as they had been.

“Then we try something else,” Castiel said.

“Right,” Dean said, with an almost-laugh. “And we just do that over and over, huh.”

“If you’d like.”

“You’d seriously be okay with just keeping on trying forever?” He said it as if it were a joke.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Of course.”

Dean went quiet. The expanse of the table between them was far, much too far. He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded, because he didn’t know what else to do.

Cas saying that he’d keep trying forever was absurd. What was even more absurd was that Dean actually believed him. Cas had that look on his face, the one that allowed no argument, not angry or proud, just – sure. Certain.

If nothing they did together felt right, Cas would stick by him and keep trying new things. Forever.

Dean felt a part of himself breathe out, and with it went the last of the wall. Now Dean was immolating, standing still in the library of the bunker, just burning and burning with wanting to be touched by Cas, and –

As Dean watched, Cas’ jaw was tightening, as though he too were holding himself back against what he needed.

They stared at each other over the table. You first, Dean begged him silently. Please, just come here, just come here.

Cas’ blue eyes were locked with his, trying to say something Dean couldn’t hear.

“Cas,” Dean said, into the silence.

Cas watched him, waiting.

Dean’s mind was a blank. He didn’t know how to take this feeling, this all-encompassing burning wanting yearning feeling, and turn it into words. He didn’t know how to ask for what he wanted without accidentally putting it out of his own reach in the asking. He didn’t know how to want in the way that received, only in the way that was hopeless.

And Cas only looked at him and waited.

Dean opened his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he said. Cas’ expression flickered, but he didn’t move. “I – you – Cas, Jesus, I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Dean said quickly, immediately.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

“Yeah. I mean…” Dean swallowed. “No.”

Now Cas looked confused.

“Do you want me to…” Cas paused, puzzling it out. Dean watched him thinking, if I shouldn’t go, and I shouldn’t stay, then…?

“Cas,” Dean said, “come here.”

Cas blinked, and Dean watched the slope of his shoulders change, watched the way Cas’ eyes lightened with a sudden hope. He watched Cas take a step around the table, and then another, slowly, as though afraid to scare Dean off.

Dean couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. His hands were too big. He’d just asked Cas to come to him, and Cas was coming to him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Dean moved, quickly, decisively, making for Cas as Cas came towards him, needing to be close and needing it now, and then – and then they were in front of each other in the bunker library, they were right in front of each other, standing with their hands by their sides and looking at each other. And all Dean could think as he looked at Cas was,

This is so heavy, it’s too much, it means too much.

And all Dean’s furiously thudding heart wanted was touch, anyway, no matter what it meant.

Cas reached up a hand, and gently – so gently – put it against Dean’s cheek.

Dean held his head up for a long moment, trying to keep himself together, keep it all in, be still, be silent. He gritted his teeth against the feeling in his chest, against the blazing of his happiness –

And then, he let go.

He closed his eyes, and breathed out. And leaned into the touch.

“I love you,” he heard Cas say.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I love you,” Cas said again, more determinedly, and Dean felt Cas’ forehead press to his own.

The touch of him was better than absolution. It was beautiful. It was perfect. Dean could feel the love of it running through him, easing the rusted gritty parts of him that had thought all this beyond him, and he wanted to gasp through the feeling of it like he was swimming through cold water. If he’d tried ten minutes ago to imagine Cas saying I love you to him again, Dean would have imagined it so sweet and unlike them. But this, this was happening. Cas’ forehead against Dean’s. Cas’ voice saying those words, I love you. And it felt real.

It felt like him, Dean, and it felt like Cas. This was who they were. This was how they loved each other.

“Me too,” Dean said. “Me too, Cas.”

He leaned forwards, and kissed Cas.

They didn’t go to the bar, in the end. They found they had enough to do without going out.

–––––

Dean

The next morning, in the kitchen, Dean turned to Cas and said casually,

“By the way, you never actually said. Are you up to date with the new research on the artifact? We should probably still try to find the damn thing.”

“Am I up to…”

Dean watched as Cas’ expression changed. It went from slight confusion, to sudden horror – and finally settled on a kind of dry acceptance.

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas came to stand by Dean, and because he could, Dean leaned forwards and kissed him again. His heart raced as he did it. Cas kissed him back, and Dean felt as though gravity probably shouldn’t be holding him down at this point.

“I, um,” Cas said. “When you texted me yesterday… I thought when you asked me that, you were asking me on a date.”

Dean’s brain took a second to catch up – and then he pressed his lips together to hold in a laugh. Cas tilted his head to one side.

“Don’t,” Cas said.

“I wouldn’t,” Dean said.

“Dean…”

“I’ll never mention it again.”

“I thought…” Cas closed his eyes, his head dropping as he smiled again at his own misunderstanding, and Dean let himself laugh. He reached out and put a hand on Cas’ shoulder, still a little tentative, still feeling his heart sing with the ability to touch. Cas leaned in, their bodies swaying together slightly.

“I love you,” Dean said, the words flowing up out of him like water from a spring, so easily, so naturally. He felt the immediate seize of panic afterwards, hearing those three words said in his own voice, out of his own mouth – but he couldn’t regret them, not when he saw Cas’ head lean back again, his blue eyes glowing with happiness.

“I love you,” Cas answered him. “I love you.”

[icollectyoursins]

Jotaro Relationship Head Canons SFW

Because I’m a self indulgent little shit and just love to ignore all of the work I have to do, have some Jotaro head canons. I am but a humble simp, and love this man. So much.

Update as of writing this. Somehow, it got very angsty, so... yeah. Sad man vibes. Also rambly. I just kinda kept going.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: None, just angst, but nothing too serious.

Word Count: 2,985

Jotaro’s type is... I mean, it depends, like most people. I don’t think he’s super picky over appearances or things like that, it’s more whether or not he gets along with you and how long he can put up with you.  He’s polite (well, as polite as he can be) and courteous, but probably a little more apathetic when you’ve first met. Once you’ve been around for a while he’s more relaxed and almost a little more critical. Mostly because you’re his friend now and he expects more from his friends.

While I was writing this I sort of realized that he could be aromantic. Maybe it’s just my own aro tendencies coming through, but I thought it sort of lined up with his personality. Or at least from my experience with romantic attraction.

Eventually, though, he’ll admit he cares about you a little more than he cares about others. It comes through in little almost compliments. “You did good. Keep it up” or “good job, dealing with this” are common phrases that sound nice on the surface, but it almost feels like he’s trying to pressure you to do more, which is far from the truth.  

If it’s not awkward compliments like that, it’s awkward gifts. Always something you had briefly mentioned wanting or stared at a minute longer than you usually do, wrapped in a paper that’s your favourite colour or pattern. Sometimes, though, it’s something you’ve never mentioned that he somehow guessed would be something you wanted.

At the same time, though, he’s oblivious or at least acts like he is. There may be times when he goes home after you said something exceptionally sweet to him or that just means so much and he’ll just take a moment sitting at his desk to mull over what you said.

    With a grunt, Jotaro rolled back into the armchair with a cup of tea in one hand and today’s newspaper in the other, since he didn’t get to read it this morning. It’s late with the sun almost completely set, giving his room an orange hue. He tries reading the first column, something about a cat being saved from a sewer grate, but after about a minute, he catches himself drifting away, sort of staring blankly at the paper.

    He blinks hard, taking a long sip from his coffee. He must be tired. Another attempt is made at reading, this time the comics. They’re not his favourite thing, but short enough that he can focus on them. Or so he thought.

    He zones out again, face suddenly feeling very hot.

    He was thinking about you. Or, rather what you said.

    It was something so simple, so mundane.

    You had been talking about family together, exchanging drama, if you will, and he had brought up how his father had left his mother when he was very young. It didn’t bother him, he had said, after all, it was years ago and if he was being honest, he didn’t really need a father. Then, you gave him this look. It wasn’t pity or something like that. You put your hand on his knee, staring deep into his eyes.

    “Jotaro,” you said, voice soft and sweet. You struggled to say the next words, opening your mouth, sighing, then finally: “I’m not leaving you.”

    “Why would you be leaving?” He said, confused, taking it literally. Or, he pretended to be confused. It had made his heart warm with affection.

    What Jotaro hadn’t noticed at that moment was that his eyes seemed to gloss over with wet tears while talking about his father. He wasn’t over it, you understood that. How could he be? He was so young then, he probably didn’t understand what was happening or why and now that he’s a father himself, there had to be so much guilt about being the same way. It was only now that he was realizing how much you had an effect on him.

    It didn’t make him sad, by any means but... loved. He’ll say thank you tomorrow with a gift or some flowers. He hadn’t planned on meeting you for the rest of the week because he was busy, but work could wait, right? Yeah. Tomorrow.

God, it would take so long for him to get you to move in together. He’s so used to living on his own that I think he’s a little self-conscious about it. He’s not a slob by any means, but certainly a bachelor. I mean, he lived (assumedly) on his own from probably around or earlier than DiU right up until Stone Free, so it’s been a while and he’s certainly comfortable with his mess of clothes lying on the floor in the corner, but you won’t be. He cleans up before people come over, obviously, but how many times did he actually invite someone in?

When you start staying around more, he starts cleaning more, which makes him a little frustrated both coming to terms with liking someone enough that he’s actively cleaning for them once a week and also discovering that he’s a lot more gross than he thought. You would not believe how stained the counter was from coffee or how gross the filter was on the coffee maker. He takes his coffee very seriously. You begin to notice how clean everything is, well, how consistently clean everything is and it even starts to smell nicer, more floral and fresh. He bought a lavender air freshener. “It’s supposed to be calming,” he’ll say with a hint of annoyance. It’s not a bad smell to him, better than vanilla air fresheners, but it does give him a headache when he first sprays his place. You seem to like it though, so he’s willing to put up with it.

I honestly believe this man can cook, but nervous when cooking for other people. His food when he was a bachelor was good enough for him and I’m sure Holly would have shown him a lot too, but it’s not the best food. He definitely steps up his game when you’re over and even more so when you move in. He’s better with dishes that have pasta or noodles because it’s easy, but he’s not too bad behind the grill either.

When you guys finally live together, he tries to keep the cooking even, with you cooking some days and him doing the rest, but I honestly feel like unless you are a hazard in the kitchen, you would do most of it.

Jotaro would be like that with most things around the house partly because he doesn’t want you to do all the work if you don’t want to but he enjoys having a little more time to himself to either do work or... yeah, it’s just work. There are a few things that he’ll never make you do because it’s either too hard or he’s built up a routine of doing that thing a certain way and he’s convinced no one else will do it right. Like his laundry. He won’t let anyone else clean his clothes. He tried once and nothing dried right, he swears that his jacket is still damp to this day. You can fold his stuff or hang it up, but he’s running the washing machine and dryer. Also picky about how his office is cleaned.

If you asked and gave a legitimate reason for not doing a certain chore, he’ll do it, but be prepared with an excuse as to why you can’t wash the dishes or fold the laundry. He’s especially resistant if he’s working whether that be gathering information for the Speedwagon Foundation or editing his latest Marine Biology book.

Actually, can we just talk about how much this man hates folding laundry? It’s so pointless to him. Why fold it and put it into neat little piles when you’re just gonna rummage through the drawer and mess everything up? Sure, it looks nice, I guess, but not for long. He was for sure a floordrobe kind of guy, especially in his early years. He knows which ones are clean, it’s fine, just leave it. Of course, he would get better the longer you’re at his place, but still. It’s not that he’s lazy, he’s just busy and putting clothes away takes way too fucking long. (which, honestly, agreed.)

Date nights with Jotaro are... rare. I mean, you live with him, why would he want to go out and pay for something when he could do the same thing at home? They’re nice, of course, but it’s more common for him to take you out to dinner while you guys are on vacation or in a location other than home, because he doesn’t feel like cooking and it’s more special when you’re supposed to go out. Eventually, it clicks in that you are supposed to make each other feel special and will surprise you with an expensive dinner or a short cruise. If you suggest the aquarium he’ll think you’re just saying that because he’s into aquatic wildlife, but honestly doesn’t put up much of a fight and will answer any questions you or anyone else has about the fish.

He does enjoy a good relaxing movie (or documentary) night at home, though. It’s so nice to finally be finished work, settle into your super comfy couch and just chill until he gets tired. Even better when you’re lying on top of him with your head just under his chin. There’s something so soothing about smelling your perfume, shampoo, conditioner, cologne, etc. To just smell you so close to him and feel your weight. Aaah. So nice.

    The microwave beeps faintly from the kitchen signalling that popcorn was done. You trailed out soon after, tossing the bowl to mix around the butter. You smile sweetly at him, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on Jotaro’s lips before settling into his lap, nestling your head just under his while stretching out your legs. His arm instinctively moves from the back of the couch to drape over your back, rubbing circles into it with his thumb.

    He sighs; relaxed, finally. He allows himself to kiss your forehead, closing his eyes for a moment, just basking in your comfort. When he opens his eyes, he pulls you closer to him, feeling your heart beat almost in time with his. It was moments like these that eased his panic of losing you. You were here in his arms, safe and sound and vice versa. He was safe in yours.

Yeah, he’s a little angsty. But, can you blame him? He’s getting better, though. With help, of course. With you being around so often (and being very adamant that you’re not going anywhere) he’s able to let go a little. He’s not perfect, by a long shot and progress is slow, but it’s the little things like these that makes you proud of how far he’s come.

PDA is common, but a little restricted. When you’re out together, Jotaro’ll always have his hand on your back or shoulder. Hand-holding isn’t really a thing for him, but he will make sure you know he’s there. He’ll kiss you in public, but it’s not nearly as intimate or special as when you’re at home. Still, it’s a sweet reminder that he loves you, seeing as words of affection aren’t really his thing.

I mean, he can express himself just fine, but he still gets a little nervous saying things like ‘I love you.’ It’s more along the lines of ‘I care about you.’ Or, well. “of course, I care about you. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Which... thanks. I think.

Kissing him is so nice, so you’re not too mad about him doing that instead of words. When Jotaro kisses you it’s full of a mix of emotions. Mostly caring, but on his rough days, there’s something else there. It could be worry or whatever the emotional equivalent of never letting you go is. You can always tell that he wants it to last a little bit longer. There’s something in the sad look in his eyes when he or you has to pull away. Sometimes he’s overly gentle like he’ll break you somehow, especially if you’re not a stand user or fighting-inclined (whether physical or otherwise). It’s not patronizing, or at least he tries not to be patronizing, he just prefers you safe.

    It started out simple enough. You and Jotaro were just sitting at the table, eating dinner when he got this... sinking sort of feeling. There was something in the silence between you that just sent his mind spiralling. Thoughts of you someday dying too soon for whatever reason or leaving him because he’s not there enough, stand users, car crashes, divorce. They all started to flood into his mind, fabricating that you would somehow be taken away from him.

    “Jotaro? Are you okay?” Your voice rings through; a bright light breaking the storm. He’s been staring at his plate for a while now, his eyes are dry and itchy. He looks at you and tries to say something, but the words don’t come. Is he okay?

    You stand up and walk over to him, cupping his face gently. You rub the dark circles under his eyes while kissing his forehead. Jotaro slowly wraps his arms around you, letting his face fall into your hands. You’re pulled into his lap after a few minutes, running your fingers through his hair next. Finally, he sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

    “Thank you,” he mumbles and though you’re not quite sure why, you still say a quiet you’re welcome, silently soothing him through whatever happened.

If you couldn’t tell, he needs a lot of reassurance. Not so much words, but actions like the snippet above. I mean, he can be as strong as he wants but we all know he’s got some baggage and while he’s able to put it aside, for the most part, I think when you’re at home he’s just a little more vulnerable.

Now, onto happier things! If you like coffee or tea, he will always make you a cup in the morning. Jotaro is a very early riser except on the weekends, so he usually gets that done while reading or watching the news and when you come down, he’ll ask if you want breakfast then make it for you seeing as he’s more awake.

He loves coffee. So much. He might have a caffeine addiction, honestly. At all times of every day, you can see him with a black coffee in hand and a book or phone in the other. He will switch to decaf at some point, but you might have to switch it for him. He’s forgetful when he gets busy.

Sleeping in on the weekends is like heaven for him. The two nights (or more on holidays) that he gets a full nights rest, breakfast in bed and a warm soul to cuddle into. He’s usually big spoon with a hand just resting on your side, but please, for the love of god make him the little spoon once a week. Will never admit it or vocalize wanting it. He just grabs your hand and drapes it over him with a “good night” and then promptly passes out.

He’s a heavy sleeper but doesn’t sleep often. Once he’s out, there is nothing that could wake him up except the fire alarm or something like that. It just takes a while. Not because of trauma, but more just internal clock is delayed.

Not a bath guy, strictly showers ‘cause they’re quicker. Most of the time he’s in and out before you can invite him into yours. When you do he’s “reluctant” but showers with you are a favourite of his. He gets his hair washed for him (if he bends down), he can wash you. It’s great.

I don’t think he would want more kids. He’s getting older, busier and just doesn’t think he has the time to care for a baby, even with help. Plus, if they were anything like Joylne or god forbid him when he was younger, he might start greying sooner than he thought. Joylne is a great kid, but... she’s definitely got some of his defiance in him. One kid is fine.

He doesn’t really like pets either, hates when there’s fur on all the furniture. But, if you came home with a stray cat or two, he’s not gonna put up a fight if you say they’re not going to the pound. “Just as long as you take care of them yourself.”

You got him a betta fish once because Jotaro. Fish. Makes sense. He thought it was a little pointless at first. You can’t pet them or play fetch (not like he does those things anyway). All a fish does is sit there and look pretty. You were a little disappointed, but whatever, you’ll take care of it. Then he comes home one day with a 30-gallon tank, freshwater plants and fancy lighting to help them grow which he quietly sets up in the living room. He spent at least a half-hour deciding on where to put it.

A week later, after he’s pleased with how it looks and the tank has been cycled he puts in an order for more fish then lets your betta acclimate to the tank. “There, he’ll be happier in here. The idea of bettas not enjoying or panicking in larger tanks is a myth. He won’t be alone for long anyway. He also won’t kill everything in the tank.” Well, he hopes he won’t, each fish is different. Thankfully, the small school of tetras get along with your betta just fine. From then on, he’s in there once a week, cleaning everything, trimming the overgrowth. It is officially his tank.

[angelvyxen]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.”

In which you’re Melo’s best friend & ex he’s not over

“What do you think of this?” You asked Melo as you turned around. He was laying back on your bed, scrolling through his phone. He moved his phone to the side and peeked over at you, “It’s straight.”

“It’s straight?”

“Yea, you look good.” He nodded.

You huffed and made your way towards your closet to rework your fit for the night again.

“C’mon bruh, I said you look straight! Why you changing again?”

“Because just looking ‘straight’ isn’t good enough. I need to look... I need to look..” you trailed off, looking for a word that encompasses just how much of a bad bitch you wanted to be tonight. "I need to look like City Girl meets Megan the Stallion."

"My nigga, what?"

"Just know I need to look good, Melo. Okay? Reef is going to be there tonight and I need to make sure I have every little bit of his attention."

Melo rolled his eyes from across the room when you mentioned Shareef.

"Man, fuck that nigga." You heard him grumble which made you laugh, asking,

"What do you have against Shareef?"

"I don't have anything against dude."

"Yes, you do. You've been on him since I mentioned I like him." You stepped out of your closet and leaned against the door frame to look him in the eyes.

"He's a bitch." He shrugged before looking back at his phone.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. He's a bitch and you don't need to be associating with someone like that."

You rolled your eyes, "Negro, please," and stepped back into the closet. “You gotta chill on him.”

“How you Shaq’s son and still ain’t made it to the league yet?”

“He had health issues Melo, you know that. Please don’t go that low just because you don’t like him for no good reason.”

Melo sucked his teeth and leaned back on your bed, focusing back on his phone. “I got numerous good reasons.” He grumbled to himself.

“What was that?” You asked, poking your head out of the closet again.

“Nothing man! Finish getting ready, we late cause of you.”

“Uh huh, whatever.”

You settled for something basic, but cute. A pair of black jeans, your favorite color way of the Jordan 1s Melo had gotten you for Christmas last year and a matching graphic tee with some jewelry to bump up the outfit.

“You look good.” Melo remarked, his eyes following you as he opened the passenger door of his jet black Rolls-Royce Cullinan for you. You were happy you got to spend today with him. Both of your schedules never seemed to align anymore since the season started for him and you started a new job.

“Thank you best friend.” You grinned as you slid into the passenger seat of his car. He shut the door and walked around the car, opening his door and sliding into his own seat.

You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it before starting the car. As he was backing out of the driveway you unlocked his phone and went to his Apple Music. You scrolled through his playlists until you came to your favorite one, ‘Vibes 🥵🤞🏼💕’. You plugged in the aux cord before hitting shuffle and set his phone down. ‘Get you’ by Daniel Caesar started to play a few moments later. Melo raised his brows before a wide smile spread across his face and he said loudly, “Oh say less! Whatchu tryna do?”

“Boy, what are you talking about?” You giggled as you looked at the goofy expression on his face.

“You playing my grown folks music playlist, you tryna start something?” He looked over at you.

“Ew,” you scrunched up your face.

“Man don’t act like you don’t want this body.”

“Boy bye. I would never.”

“Oh word, so you wouldn’t kiss me right now?” He puckered his lips at you.

You shook your head and looked in the other direction, “Nope.”

“Girl stop playing and give me them lips.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing your head to turn and started to lean in close. This wouldn’t be the first time you kissed Melo. The nature of you two’s friendship was different than most. The two of you used to date but decided after a couple months that you’d be better as friends. Since you were already comfortable with one another, doing boyfriend-girlfriend things weren’t awkward. Long hugs, cuddling, and occasional kissing weren’t anything to you when it came to him.

Before both of your lips touched the car jerked to the side which made you realize he was still driving.

“Focus on the road!” You said sharply as the car jerked back to the opposite side, making it centered in the road again. Melo was laughing the entire time and you hit him in his chest, “That wasn’t fucking funny. I’m too young to die.”

“Relax, you still alive. Aren’t you? Always overreacting.”

You rolled your eyes and faced front, crossing your arms over one another.

“Aye,” he reached over and gently flicked your cheek, “Fix your face. The shit isn’t that serious for you to be catching an attitude over.”

You pushed his hand away, keeping your eyes in front of you.

“Cmon man, don’t start this. We were just having a good time.”

You kept quiet and you heard him sigh loudly. A second later you felt a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down.

“You wanna get some food later?” He asked, knowing that that phrase alone would get your attitude in check.

“What kind?”

“Del Taco?”

You unfolded you arms and Melo laughed, “You so fucking fat.”

“Aht, don’t fuck up nigga. I’ll catch my attitude all over again.”

He nodded, “Heard you. I take it back.”

“As you should.” You said as you picked up your phone to play some games to pass the time. You settled on temple run, tapping your nails against the screen as you waiting for the game to load.

You squealed excitedly when you saw a text from Shareef pop up at the top of your screen. Melo glanced over at you confused as you typed up a response.

“Who you talking to?” He asked, trying to see what was happening on your phone screen.

“Shareef.” You answered and almost instantly heard him suck his teeth. You ignored his clear distaste for your crush and asked, “He asked if I’m sliding through, do you think ‘Yea, can’t wait to see you’ is good or does that make me sound too eager?”

“How about you just don’t text the nigga at all or you text him no and we just don’t go to the party at all.”

“Melo,” you whined, “I really like him, can you set aside the hate you have for him, please? For me?”

“Why do you even like him so much?”

“Well he’s kind,”

“Any one can be ‘kind’. Next.”

“He makes me laugh,”

“That’s not a valid reason. Clowns can do that. Then again, he is a clown ass nigga so,” Melo shrugged his shoulders and you rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the statement.

“He’s cute,”

“He look like a big toe.”

“Melo! No he does not!”

“Yes he do. And his teeth all crooked. He need some braces. In fact, remind me to give dude my dentist’s number.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to list your reasons,

“He listens to me,”

Melo sucked his teeth, “So I don’t listen to you?”

“Where did you even get that from? See, now you’re just pulling shit out of thin air to be mad about. What is your problem?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s wild how this nigga come into the picture and all of a sudden I’m getting wiped out of it.”

“Melo what are you talking about?”

“So we just about to act like you haven’t been texting or calling me as much? And we finna act like you don’t want to come see me no more cause you’re always with him?”

“That is not true.”

“Yes it is. Wasn’t it just last week I offered to fly you out to Houston to see my game and you said no cause you and that nigga was supposed to be hanging out all weekend?”

“Oh my God, you still mad about that? Grow up.”

“Grow up? So it’s just fuck my feelings now cause he here?”

“How am I supposed to get to know him if I’m always with you?! I can have a life outside of you LaMelo!” You raised your voice slightly as you started to get heated. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy for you, he was supposed to be your friend.

“Why do you even want to get to know him! Ain’t shit to know! He don’t do shit, he don’t have shit but his daddy’s money and a fucked up hairline anyways!”

“Okay, now you’re about to get me mad.”

“Oh me talking about your lil boyfriend make you mad? Man fuck him! It’s not like he’s about to wife you no how! He’s probably trying to hit it and quit it, it’s not like you hard to get at.”

You stared at him for a second, wanting to believe that he didn’t just say what he said out of spite of all things.

“Fuck you! Don’t be mad at me because you’re too attached to me to get your own girlfriend!”

“Oh, I’m too attached now? That’s what we going with?”

“Nigga that’s what’s been happening! You’re so jealous you can’t even let me be happy!”

The two of you pulled up in front of the house party and he stopped the car, leaned back in his seat and looked down at you.

“Alright shut the fuck up. You about to get me hot.”

“Now you want to be a pussy when I tell you the truth. Typical.”

“I said shut the fuck up bruh. I’m not tryna get mad at you.”

You turned towards him in your seat, “You know what your problem is? You can’t get over that lil relationship we had. You need to build a bridge and leave that shit in the past, it was never that serious.” You said. Deep down you didn’t mean it but he already took the argument too far by calling you an easy fuck.

His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth behind his closed lips and his brows furrowed ever so slightly, leaving a small crease in his forehead.

“Oh, so now you don’t got shit to say no more?” You questioned, looking up at him.

He picked up his key and phone, opened the door and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You watched as he was walked into the party leaving you behind. You blew out some air to calm yourself down before grabbing your things and getting out.

When you walked into the house you couldn’t spot Melo anywhere but your attention was quickly taken away from trying to find him when you felt an arm snake around your waist. You looked up at Shareef, a smile spreading across your face.

“Hey!” You greeted.

“Hey. You look good.” He replied, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Those shoes are fire.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t think you were coming still. You read my text and didn’t reply.”

“Oh! My bad I just.. I got distracted on my way here.”

“Uh huh. You came with your boy?” He asked referring to Melo.

“Yeah.”

“He just walked in here looking mad at the world. Y’all had an argument or sum in the car?”

Shareef started to walk you around the house, away from the main party.

“Something like that. We just didn’t see eye to eye on something.. can we not talk about him, I’m here with you right now, I want to focus on you.” You looked up at Shareef, smiling.

For the next couple hours you hung out with Shareef in the backyard by the fire pit. There were a couple chairs set up in a circle around it so the both of you made yourselves welcome. The two of you talked about any and everything, only leaving to go refill your drinks a few times throughout the night.

“So that’s why I decided to do indisciplinary studies instead of just majoring in one thing.”

You nodded as Shareef finished telling you about his college plans. You liked that he was so goal focused and not all of his goals in life pertained to having a career in the nba like his dad.

“So-” you were cut off by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Yo!”

Both you and Shareef turned to be met with his friend Josh Christopher who you’ve only met a handful of times, another 2 friends you didn’t know and.. Melo.. with a girl under his arm. They all had girls with them but Melo stuck out to you the most.

“Y’all mind if we sit?” Josh asked, already picking a chair and sitting down.

“Go ahead.” Reef said and you just smiled politely watching all of them sit and pull the girls they were with into their laps since there weren’t enough chairs.

You crossed your ankles, feeling uncomfortable as Melo took a seat directly across from you. You still felt tense about the argument the two of you had earlier but he didn’t seem to care much anymore as he was feeling up the girl, who wouldn’t stop giggling, in front of you.

Everyone started to talk as a group and you said a few things here and there but mainly kept to yourself.

“So, Reef,” Josh said getting everyone’s attention, “I don’t mean to be nosy or nothing.. but imma be nosy, what’s going on with you and her?” He nodded his head towards you.

“Whatchu mean?” Shareef laughed

“You know what I mean. Is that your girl? Is future Mrs. O’Neil in our presence?”

Shareef looked over at you, “You wanna be future Mrs. O’Neil?” He asked, a wide smile on his face.

You returned the smile and shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.” You laughed. You managed to catch Melo’s glare as you turned your head. He had completely stopped giving the girl in his lap attention and his eyes were dead set on you as he wore the same expression he did in the car before he stormed out earlier.

You ignored his dirty look and him, looking back at Shareef as the two of you got back into your own conversation.

“Did I already tell you you look good tonight?” He asked as he moved closer to you.

“I believe you did.” You grinned, also moving closer to him. You had already shut Melo out of your mind.

“Well, just to let you know, you look good tonight.” He commented and you responded with a giggle, “Nah, but for real, you look good. I like your makeup and that shiny stuff you got on your lips.”

“My lipgloss?” You questioned, cocking a brow at the fact he acted as though he didn’t know what lipgloss was.

“Mhm. It smells nice. Like strawberries.”

“It’s strawberry flavored. Fun fact.”

“Does it taste like strawberries too?” He was getting very close to your face, you could almost feel his breath against you.

You leaned in, further closing the small gap between you two and whispered, “Find out.”

You were caught of guard when instead of feeling Shareef’s lips against yours you felt yourself getting pulled back and stood up. You looked back as you were quickly being dragged away from the group and of course, Melo was the one pulling you away.

He was facing the house so you couldn’t see his face.

“Melo! Let me go!” You struggled out, trying to yank your arm out of his grip, which only made him hold on tighter.

“Aye!” You looked back at the group, seeing Shareef stand up while everyone else looked amongst themselves in confusion.

Shareef grabbed your free arm making Melo stop and look back at him.

“Whatchu doing bruh? Let her go.” Reef said as he tugged you towards him.

“Imma give you 2 seconds to let go of her before I punch you dead in your shit.”

“I don’t want to fight you. We in public bro, just chill out and let her go.”

“One.”

“I know you her friend and all but you’re overdoing this shit. I know you’re not about to hit me in front of all these-”

Before Shareef could finish his sentence, one of Melo’s fists went flying at his face. Luckily, he dodged it but that didn’t stop Melo from swinging again.

“Melo! Chill out!” You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“Yo, go talk to your boy. He wildin’.” Shareef had already let you go by now.

“I will. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.” You told him as Melo had already started pulling you away again.

“You won’t.” You heard Melo grumble as he pulled out through the back door of the house.

“Slow down!” You said as he brought you upstairs before opening a door and pushing you inside the room. The door closed and you heard a click as the door locked. He flipped on the light and you could now see he brought you into a bathroom.

You looked back at him, an angry expression on your face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He didn’t respond as he backed you up into the counter behind you. He reached behind you and picked up a small towel and then grabbed your face. “What are you-”

“Shut the fuck up. Damn! You talk to much.” He cut you off harshly before starting to roughly wipe the lipgloss off of your lips.

“You got me all the way fucked up right now.” He continued to grumble as he flipped on the tap behind you and wet the towel before bringing it back to your lips and wiping again, “Do it taste like strawberries too? Find out,” he mocked, “I can’t believe your ass.” He grumbled as he continued to wipe.

You pushed his hand away from your mouth, “What is your issue?!”

“Don’t ask me no stupid shit like that. You know exactly what my issue is.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t see why you had to come and embarrass me in front of everyone like that.” You hit his chest which made him take a step back.

“I embarrassed you?” He said shocked, as if he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

“YES!” You said louder than you had intended for it to come out. You almost felt like crying thinking back on what had just taken place. “What is your issue today?! First you basically call me an easy hoe in the car and now this?! Did you even for a second stop to think about my feelings?!”

“No.” He shrugged, “Cause you never thought about mine. And don’t act like you didn’t say some foul shit too. Our relationship ‘was never that serious’ you remember that?”

“You can’t use that against me, you’re the one that started everything. I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for me.”

“Be happy for you?” He made a face, “How do you expect me to be happy seeing the woman I love move on and rub that shit in my face? You want me to be happy about that? I tried to tolerate it but you want me to keep a straight face and act like it doesn’t bother me when you give another nigga attention the way you use to give me?” He stepped closer to you, now only a few centimeters separated both of your bodies, “You expect me to sit up here with a straight face as you’re about to kiss someone else? I admit, I was wrong for doing that in front of all those people but can you blame me?… I thought I could keep my shit together and be just friends with you but to be honest,”

He he cut himself off and picked you up and placed you on the counter, standing in between your legs and placed both his hands on either side of you before saying, “I didn’t want to break up to begin with. I’m greedy baby. Ion wanna share you with nobody.” His soft lips brushed against yours before capturing them in a warm kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as your arms snaked around his neck.

His lips moved down to your neck, you moaned as you felt his teeth gently bite down on your skin while he kissed and sucked around the area. You already knew he’d leave a hickey. One of his hands started to creep up your shirt, gently tracing your stomach before making its way to your back and unhooked your bra. He pulled away from your neck and pulled your shirt off of you from the bottom, up and discarded it behind him before sliding each of your bra straps off your shoulders and tossing the bra on the floor like he did your shirt.

He placed his lips back on yours as his both of his hands started to fondle your breasts. He lightly squeezed the left one and pinched your right nipple with his other hand which made you squeal. He chuckled into the kiss and did it again, this time pinching both nipples harder than he had before which evoked the same sound from you.

“Be gentle, they’re sensitive.” You mumbled.

“I know,” he mumbled back, repeating the same action again, smiling as he watched you pull away from the kiss, throwing your head back slightly with your eyes shut tightly, “That’s why I like doing it.”

He brought you back into the kiss, moving his hands from your breasts (to your relief) and placed them by your sides. A moment later his hands got busy again, with his right one unzipping your jeans while the left one spread your legs further. His right hand snaked into your pants. You were dripping in anticipation, waiting to feel his fingers stroke your sensitive skin but instead he touched you from outside your panties. You felt his index finger rub your clit through the thin fabric and whimpered out needily, “Melo please,” you said breathlessly, breaking the kiss.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me.” It was torture having his finger so close but feeling so far.

Instead of doing what you asked oh so kindly for he removed his hand and went back to undressing you. He stepped back and grabbed one of your feet, untying one of your sneakers and setting it down on the ground before moving to the other one, untying the laces painfully slow. Once your sneakers were off he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and started to pull the article of clothing off of your legs. Once half your thigh was exposed he bent down and pressed a kiss on one of your thighs. “This was always my favorite part of your body.” He said quietly as he continued to pull your jeans down your legs. He pulled them off the rest of the way and let them fall to the ground after he pulled them off your ankles.

He refocused his attention back on your thighs, pressing a few, scattered, soft kisses on them as he inched back up towards your pussy. He licked your inner thigh, making you shiver before saying, “This,” he took his index finger and pressed it directly against your clit, “Is my second favorite part of you.”

Your hands grabbed the hem of your panties and tried to pull them down but he stopped you, lightly smacking away your hands and stood up straight once more.

“Melo..” you whined as you watched his lips stray farther and farther away from your pussy.

“Uh uh, no whining, you fucked up yourself.” He leaned in close, “What’s my one rule when we making love?”

“Not to touch myself.” You replied quietly, “But you were teasing.”

“That don’t matter my love.” He pecked your lips, “A rule is a rule.”

He pulled away and took off his shirt. You watched as his tanned abs and then his number 1 tattoo on his chest were exposed. He dropped his shirt on the ground and you took in his appearance for a second. His gold chains were shining under the light. You watched as he slipped off his shoes and then took a step back before waving you over and then pointing a finger down on the ground. You slid off the counter and got your knees in front of him. No words needed to be said, you knew what he wanted. You slid his slim-fit sweatpants down his legs. He made it easier for you by kicking them off his ankles.

You reached up, your hands feeling the bulge in his underwear. You looked up into his eyes, putting on your most innocent look face as your lips pressed against his tip through the fabric before you lightly drug your tongue against it. You could feel his hard on strain against the fabric as you did so. You, wanting him in your mouth already and too eager to continue teasing, pulled his underwear down his legs. His dick sprung out, almost hitting his stomach.

Your mouth hung open slightly as your eyes focused on all maybe 8 or 9 inches of his length. It throbbed slightly, some precum leaking out of the tip and down the base. Melo grabbed the base of his dick and guided it towards your lips, only needing to say “Open,” before you parted your lips and let him push each inch into your mouth.

You bobbed your head, guiding your tongue all along his length, outlining each vein, before moving it back to the tip, swirling it around. “Fuck,” he rasped out as his hands tangled in your hair, giving him a good grip on your head. He tried to push more of himself into your mouth but you stopped him, pulling back. “It can’t fit all in my mouth,” you said, using the time his dick was out of your mouth to catch your breath. “We’ll make it fit down your throat then.” He said as he pushed his shaft back into your mouth. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat you gagged loudly to which he instructed, “Relax. Relax your throat.”

You did as he said, relaxing the best you could as you felt the tip of his dick move past the back of your throat and downward. You watched as each inch disappeared and your nose pressed against his stomach. “Good girl,” you heard him remark in a breathy moan. He pulled back again to let you breath before pushing his entire length down your throat once more. He got into rhythm, fucking your throat and guiding your head. It got sloppy quick, saliva dripping off of his dick and onto the floor and onto the both of you in the process. He thrusted down your throat one last time before cumming with a loud moan. You nearly choked as he came ropes down your throat without warning but somehow survived it without one gag. He pulled his saliva coated dick out of your mouth with a satisfied sigh and you swallowed the left over cum and saliva in your mouth.

He scooped you up and you felt yourself being set back on the counter. To your surprise he kissed you, rolling his tongue against yours as he slipped off your panties. Your juices had leaked through them and were starting to come down your legs. Something about sucking dick made you so horny. Melo’s head dipped down but you grabbed it, saying, “Just fuck me.” You didn’t even want head anymore. He did as you wanted, pressing his tip against your entrance before pushing in each inch of his dick slowly. You let out a satisfied moan, enjoying the feeling of having him back inside you after so long. He placed his head in the crook of your neck as his dick bottomed out inside you and you gripped his shoulders. You felt his lips brush against your ear before hearing, “It feels so good to be in my pussy again,” before he pulled out and thrust back in roughly, “And no other nigga better have been in it.” You let out a moan in response while shaking your head.

He fucked you like a mad man, thrusting in out of you faster and harder than you could comprehend. Your eyes started to subconsciously roll to the back of your head and your mouth hung open as a trail of endless moans left your lips. “You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear which set you off. You cleaned around his shaft, your nails gripped his back tighter and you started to cum all over his dick to which he responded with a groan saying, “You don’t know how good that feels,”

He fucked you on the counter for a few more minutes before you felt yourself getting picked up. Without missing a beat, or pulling out of you he switched your position, having you now bent over the counter. He gave your head him towards the mirror, “I want you to watch while we make love.” He leaned in close, switching the pass or his thrusts. “How does it feel?” He asked as he placed a kiss on your neck.

“I-it feels..” you struggled to get out, trying to keep your head up like he wanted.

The kisses moved from your neck to your cheek, “How it feel baby, talk to me.”

“It feels good.” You moaned out, “It feels so good daddy.”

“There you go,” he said as his thrusts picked up again. You let out another embarrassingly loud moan when you felt his fingers rub your very sensitive clit and he asked, “You love me? Hm?” Before feeling a kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Yes baby, oh my god, I love you so muchhh.”

He chuckled before using his free hand to face your face towards him. He pressed his lips against yours, trying to give you a kiss but you were moaning too much to kiss him back. He faced your head back towards the mirror, “You not letting no nigga take my place again, right?”

“Noo, never again,” you replied breathlessly before letting out another loud moan as you came everywhere once again.

“Good.” He placed a small peck on your cheek and let go of your head and moved his other hand from your pussy. He then gripped both of your arms and held them behind your back as he stood up straight and fucked you mercilessly.

——————————

I didn’t think I’d finish this today, but here I am, hours later lmao. I hope you all enjoyed. People have been asking me to do an imagine where Melo likes his best friend and they have sex for so long lmao so I hope this satisfied those anons.

Side note: imagine Melo telling you he doesn’t want to share you with nobody else but himself 😩

Please excuse any errors. I’m tired lol.

[scuttling]

Tempting

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 2,392 Tags: 16+, Mature SFW, Pre-relationship, Fantasizing, Accidentally turned on, Mentions of sex Summary: Aaron and Sophie both find themselves... tempted. Collection: Sophie Cortes timeline, 7-12 Months at the BAU (See Masterlist for reading order) Link to AO3 or read below! “Hey, just wanted to hand off my profiles,” Sophie says as she peeks her head into Hotch’s office Wednesday night. “Any idea when the department will catch up to the 21st century and let us do these on the computer?” she asks playfully, and he smiles, rolls his eyes a bit.

“It’s not the department that makes us do these on paper, it’s me. Morgan has been trying to get me to switch to digital, says Garcia can make us a user-friendly system in her sleep.” She crosses her arms, leaning a hip against the doorframe.

“And you’re resistant because…?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it’s nostalgia, or because I hate change.”

“As long as it's not because you’ll miss seeing my smiling face at the end of the day, turning in my files,” she says, and though it’s obvious she’s teasing, that kind of is part of the answer.

He doesn’t want to be just a figure in his office, silently collecting completed case files with a ping of his computer. He knows they know his door is always open, but it’s sometimes the excuse of turning in their work that leads them there, gets them in the door, and he thinks it’s important to maintain.

“All joking aside, I think it could really benefit the team. If you wanted a beta tester, I’d be happy to try it out; we can get together once a week for a couple weeks to discuss any bugs or issues we find with the system. The others don’t even need to know; I could do my regular cases during the day, stay later once or twice a week and work them on the computer. I don’t mind the overtime, I’ve got nothing going on.”

“You should go enjoy your life, not spend extra hours holding my hand because I’m resistant to change.”

“I want to, though, if it will help. And I said I don’t mind the overtime.” They stare each other down for a moment; he is the first to cave, sighing and pushing a hand through his hair.

“I’ll talk to Garcia, see if she has capacity to work on the program this week.” Her answering smile is almost blinding, and he feels warmth spread in his chest; he's been feeling that a lot lately, always where Sophie is concerned, but especially when she smiles. “Hey, while I’ve got you, do you mind looking at a case with me? I can’t help feeling that I’m missing something.”

“Sure, of course.” She walks fully into his office, around the desk so she’s looking over his shoulder at the open file. Her hair falls in cascading waves around her face before she gets a chance to tuck a few strands behind her ear, and the smell of her shampoo is... tempting, to say the least.

It’s coconut, and jasmine, maybe, a light, tropical scent that makes him think of palm trees, fresh pineapple, warm sand under his feet… Sophie in a bikini, a tiny thing that shows off her every curve… Sophie curled up next to him in a private cabana, laughing softly in the moonlight… Sophie on a soft bed in a hotel room, her bare skin, even darker from sunbathing, a beautiful contrast to crisp white sheets…

“Have you considered that the second unsub could be a woman? That would explain how the victims are being lured from the mall—a woman probably wouldn’t stop in a parking garage at night for a man, but she would for another woman, if she’s in trouble.” She turns to look at him, and he’s shaken from his fantasy abruptly.

“No, uh, I hadn’t considered that. That closes the gap in my profile. Good thinking.”

“That’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?” He earns another, softer smile, and he thinks about leaning in to kiss her, how easy that would be. It doesn’t take long to shake that thought away, because it’s almost literally insane, but he can’t deny that he had it.

“Something like that. Are you headed home?” She stands fully, and he’s glad, because that means the temptation is gone. It’s not her fault in any way, all his, but he can’t deny it gets worse the closer she is.

“Not home; the girls and I are meeting around the corner for a drink. Will you be finishing up soon?”

“Probably not, but it’s alright. I have nothing going on,” he says, repeating her turn of phrase. He looks down at his work, and she sighs lightly.

“You could have something going on. Come out for a drink with me.”

“And crash your meeting with the girls?” He’s not entirely certain he’d be welcome, or comfortable, but she makes it sound so easy. Like it’s something he could just decide to do, if he wanted.

“Trust me, they won’t mind.”

“It’s a nice offer, thank you. Maybe another time.” She rests a hand on his desk, on top of his case file so he can’t finish filling out the consultation paperwork, and he has to look up and make eye contact with her, which he’s sure is by design. She’s too good at reading him, sometimes. “Definitely another time. I really do appreciate the offer.”

“I’m gonna hold you to it, Hotch. You need a life outside of this place.” She lifts her hand from the desk, places it briefly on his shoulder, and then heads for the door. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” he sighs at her retreating back. His feelings seem to be getting a little too hard to ignore. Their next case doesn’t come until the beginning of the next week. Sophie goes with Hotch to interview a victim’s mother in hopes that they can find the woman who is currently missing before the unsub kills her, but they come up with nothing, which is all they’ve come up with all day.

It’s clear Hotch is not pleased with their progress. He stands outside the car for a moment, looking like he’s trying to compose himself, and he takes off his jacket and throws it in the back seat.

“Damn it,” he hisses when they get back into the car, slamming his hands against the steering wheel; he scrubs a hand through his hair, unbuttons his cuffs, and rolls up his shirt sleeves a bit more angrily than seems strictly necessary. Sophie can’t keep her eyes off of his hands as he pushes the fabric up over his forearms—baring firm muscles covered in thick, dark hair—and when he throws the car into reverse and turns his head, placing his palm on the back of her headrest while he looks behind them, it gets her a little… hot.

It’s nothing new, of course. She has been feeling certain things, where Hotch is concerned—some emotional things, some physical things—for a little while now, if she’s being honest with herself. And she’s usually got the presence of mind to ignore it, or force it to the back of her thoughts, but he caught her off guard and she’s spiraling, now, imagining his hands on either side of her head, on her throat, holding open her thighs. His hands are close all the time, and visible, and the thought of reaching out to touch them is just so… tempting.

She must be making an oh, shit face, because his eyes become more inquisitive, his features a little softer. “What’s wrong?” She’s breathing heavily, and her cheeks feel warm, so she probably looks insane; she just shakes her head and exhales lightly, tries to calm herself.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He looks like he absolutely does not believe her, and she curses herself for the hundredth time for choosing to work around a bunch of profilers; they’re always thinking, analyzing, squinting their eyes at you and trying to figure you out, and it can get really irritating.

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry if I upset you,” he says when he’s done squinting. She almost wants to laugh: he’s worried about upsetting her over a minor curse word while she’s literally hot under the collar for him; her chest feels like it’s on fire, always quick to flush when she’s aroused, and she’s thanking the gods that she chose a crew neck t-shirt today and not a v-neck, or the situation would probably be a lot more awkward.

“You didn’t upset me, Hotch, it’s okay,” she insists, and he breaks eye contact to focus on the road.

They ride in silence the rest of the way to the precinct, but he doesn’t move to exit the vehicle after he takes the keys out of the ignition. “I’m sorry again for my outburst. I shouldn’t have reacted that way, at least not with you in the car.” She sits back in her seat, because this is now about more than her embarrassing moment from before.

“You’re allowed to be human, you know,” she tells him, and when it looks like he’s about to argue, she shakes her head. “I know the bureau likes to discourage it, but being in tune with our emotions and other people’s emotions is what makes us the best at what we do. Don’t apologize for the things you feel.”

“I have to lead by example. It’s the best way to set clear expectations.”

“Telling us your expectations is the best way to set clear expectations. You don’t have to pretend to be emotionless. When you’re angry, be angry.” He frowns, looks at her like what she’s saying makes absolutely no sense.

“When I got angry just now, you were looking at me like you were seeing something about me for the first time. Like you were afraid of me.”

“I wasn’t afraid of you, it’s… it’s nothing. I’d really rather not get into it.” His face softens again, and he’s giving her a look that’s usually reserved for families of victims, which throws her off guard.

“I know that victims of abuse can sometimes have a negative reaction to shouting…”

She wants to groan. He’s being so kind, but if he doesn’t let this go...

“I’m not a victim of abuse, and you didn’t scare me.” He still looks guilty, and if that’s what he thinks happened, and that’s how she made him feel? Well she’s gotta come clean sooner than later. She takes a deep breath. “You turned me on, okay? You were angry, and you rolled up your sleeves, and then you put your hand on the back of my seat and it just… affected me. I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she mutters, covering her face with her hand. Hotch processes that, is still processing that when she removes her fingers from her face. He just looks at her, expression carefully blank.

“Oh. Uh, well. It’s natural; nothing you could have done about it.” She sighs at that, runs a hand through her hair.

“I know, I’m not ashamed of being aroused, or anything, but—we’re working, you’re my boss. The situation is awkward.” He looks at the steering wheel, like he can’t say what he’s going to say directly to her.

“You shouldn’t feel awkward. This kind of thing happens to all of us.” She arches her brow, smiles a little incredulously.

“You’re telling me you, Aaron Hotchner, have been inappropriately turned on on the job before?” He shrugs, nodding.

“Sure, yes.” Her brows rise further into her hairline, not believing him for a second; he sighs at her expression and shakes his head, huffing a laugh. “Okay. You were in my office last week, leaning over my shoulder to look at a case file, and I could smell your shampoo. It’s coconut, right?” She nods, not sure exactly where the story is going, but she feels herself getting hot again, against literally her every wish. “Well, it made me daydream of the vacation I so desperately want: a drink in my hand, sun on my skin, sand beneath my feet… making love late at night with a breeze blowing through the open patio door.”

“Oh.” Her heart is racing, beating so hard she’s almost surprised the sound doesn’t give her away, and her breathing is heavy, and she thinks he’s about to speak again when someone taps on his window abruptly. He rolls it down and Gideon sticks his head in.

“There’s another body, 482 West Hemlock; you two might as well stay in the car and meet us there.”

“Will do,” Hotch replies, and Gideon nods, steps away from the car. If he wonders why they were sitting there unbuckled for so long, he doesn't show it.

They back out of the parking lot sexy-incident-free, and they’ve gone a few blocks before he turns to look at her again. “Are we okay? I hope I didn’t say too much.”

“No, you didn't. We’re okay.” She smiles softly, actively thinking about anything but vacation sex with her boss.

(It’s surprisingly difficult.)

They process the crime scene, gaining some new insight about the unsub, and before long they’re ready for a profile. Sophie opts to ride back to the station with Prentiss under the guise of letting Gideon and Hotch iron out the details, but really she needs to be as far away from him as possible while working the case, or she’s going to lose her mind.

The rest of the day is uneventful, spent poring over pages and pages of cold case files trying to link other murders to the one that occurred earlier that day. They identify at least 15, and when they literally can’t go on for a minute longer, Hotch calls it and they discuss where to go to grab some dinner.

Italian wins, and Sophie gets a big, beautiful bowl of pasta primavera and a glass of white wine, and it’s almost enough to make her forget all about the day until Hotch catches her eye from across the table, smiling at something Morgan said, and her stomach clenches. She smiles lightly, trying to hide it, but she’s not sure she was able to save face in time. She spends the rest of the meal arguing semantics with Reid, something so perfectly normal that it shouldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions.

She feels eyes on her anyway, but she doesn’t look in their direction.

[kaypeace21]

Was it just me or was the "I love her and I can't loose her again" scene super awkward? The camera switching to each characters gaping faces, it looked like Lucas was trying his best not to laugh, it almost felt comical? And how the intense not even romantic music just suddenly stopped. Maybe I'm misinterpreting it but it didn't feel like it deserves a "Awww how romantic" reaction. It just didn't feel all that romantic or even serious.

Yeah, I agreed. It came across as awkward af- like most aspects of mileven it was cringe and framed as such.

The dopey music cutting off abruptly - the look on eveyone’s faces .Even mike looked shocked he said it. Lucas making a joke right after the confession.

Not to mention everything else right before the confession.

-Max saying “ el has saved the world twice. And mike still doesn’t trust her .” And mike not denying it and saying “you want to talk about trust?really?!after... eleven spied on us”/ “guess girlfriends don’t lie they spy!”

-Hopper earlier in the season saying Mike is “corrupting her (el) ” . And Joyce says it’s not Hopper’s “decision” for mileven to breakup. And Mike says in the cabin, that El dumped him cause max is “corrupting her.” And Max says “this is exactly why el dumped your ass... the fact is she is not yours ! she’s her own person fully capable of making her own decision !” Neither respects El’s autonomy and decisions in her own romantic endeavors . Like max said previously in s3 : for El to find out what “feels like (her)” , she has to ignore what hopper and mike want.

-The fact mike also complains about El spying on him and asks what if he was on the toilet taking a “massive shit” and max saying “gross” in response. What romantic build up XD

-nancy saying “she (el) is her own person with her own free will.” And mike rolling his eyes and glaring at nancy .

-lucas rolling his eyes when mike is about to say he loves el & is ranting about everyone being careless with her powers and treating her “like a machine.”

That whole scene: the built up ( of mileven criticisms) + the subsequent confession took 2 minutes total. 90%of which was poking holes in Mileven . And illustrating Mike not respecting El’s autonomy & El not respecting Mike’s privacy.

Nothing substantial was built up in the “love her” scene that made it feel heartfelt or romantic . If anything everything that led up to the scene was built up to do the opposite. To show how flawed the relationship is.

Not to mention at the end of the season he told El the reason he said he “loved her” . “I don’t know it was really heat of the moment stuff. We (max and him) were arguing .i don’t really remember. What did I say exactly? “He said the love- her phrase . Cause he wanted to one-up max, and others , who were poking holes in his het relationship- most likely.

The framing , lighting, and music did a lot to show the “love her” isn’t serious - but the dialogue made that even more clear. It’s like the pool shed scene in s3 where he said el was “the most important thing.” And el ignores the comment (like the audience should) , and immediately cuts him off to say hopper was probably right and that they spend too much time together (based off a remark mike mentioned about Hopper right before the “best thing” moment). She literally completely ignored the “best thing” comment. The scene had offbeat music , el scowling, dropping a dummy in annoyance, fullframed shots of their bodies, no dramatic lighting, and Mike’s delivery being flat and taking about 2 seconds with no build up . As opposed to the shed scene of mike saying meeting Will was the “best thing”: shots of just their faces , unlike mileven body shots ( expresses this to be an important scene for the 2 characters personally. And emotionally significant to the audience since we’re focused on every expression they emote . The scene is all about their relationship. The audience is FORCED to see importance in the scene /relationship cause they’re the only 2 things in frame) , there’s dramatic lighting/contrasting shadows, no music just the sounds of Will and mike crying, a single tear down mike’s face as he does a 2-3 minute monologue about why Will being in his life is important . And when mike finally says it was the “best thing” we have a long shot lingering on Will’s face and his reaction to Mike’s words - right before he breaks free of the mf. Before Will’s face reveal they even focus on just shots of mike as he speaks for more than a minute and a half- so Will’s reaction is more of a sunker punch to the audience emotionally since we have that slow build up of expectation over time. El ignored the comment . Will was saved by it!

I mean - why give mileven : “soulmates”/ “the main couple” a romantic confession that was a joke ? Have mike and el breakup in a comedic fashion with cheery music on a sunny day? With neither heartbroken after ? And contrast it to the byler fight? And end with a mileven kiss where mike looks confused, doesn’t kiss back, had his eyes open, and has the same song in the background that robin rejected steve to? . Not to mention the script has mike after the kiss think “what the hell just happened?” Boy is confused with what just occurred. They dissed mileven so much in s3 and did so In more subtle ways in prior seasons. The Duffers can write romance ... and dysfunctional romance . It’s just a matter of time before the dysfunctional/non endgame pairings are revealed for what they are😂

[roselen-mylady]

the game | part two

Part One

Steve hated to admit it but he had always been a jealous person. As a child he was jealous of the way so many other kids had dads that tucked them in at night. As a teen he was jealous of how easily Bucky made women swoon. As an adult he was jealous of Stark when he attempted to woo Peggy. And now he was jealous because it seemed everyone but himself was able to easily talk and even kiss Y/n.

Oh how badly he had wanted to.

And he almost did during that game of spin the bottle. Yet he'd lost his nerve. And lost his chance.

Thor's laughter had drawn his full attention toward the pair. Not that his eye had ever left Y/n but now the man before him was blatantly being ignored as Steve's entire focus was on Y/n and Thor. He strained to hear whatever was being said by her but he could hardly pay attention as Thor lifted her into the air and spun her around like a princess.

He could've done that.

His blood nearly boiled as he watched Thor kiss her. It was innocent, he knew that, but he just couldn't help it. He was angry at the world and Thor but mostly himself.

Before Thanos he thought he'd have all the time he needed to work up to confessing his feelings for her while she stayed in Wakanda watching after his best friend. But when she was snapped away he realized he had made a horrible mistake. A mistake he regretted every minute of every day during those long five years.

But now he had a chance to fix it.

Yet he hadn't been able to talk to her since she returned. The friendship they'd had before then was bashful but strong yet during her absence he had distanced himself from the idea of her in order to cope.

When she returned all the emotions he felt came rushing back in waves. And he was still blowing it.

•••

"I'm so tired of watching these two pine after one another." Wanda spoke suddenly, making Bucky turn toward her, dragging his gaze away from the pair.

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, looking back at them as Wanda came to stand at his side, watching them with him.

"You mean you haven't noticed? Y/n's in love with Steve. Steve's in love with Y/n. It's agonizing to watch, really." She sighed, rather vexed with the entire situation. It was her after all who had watched them through the years. They'd known each other ever since before the accords and all that time they'd had an awkward friendship in which feelings were obvious on both ends yet neither had the courage to act.

She hated to imagine how Y/n's death might've affected him but yet it still hadn't given him the will of the courage to act. It pained her to watch the two fall back into their old ways.

"Y/n loves Steve?" Bucky mumbled, disbelief evident in his features. Wanda nodded, her eyes trailing Y/n as she made her way to Peter, who was standing haphazardly close to Steve.

"More than life itself, though she'll never admit it. I saw it when I had to enter her thoughts years ago during a mission we had in Germany." Wanda explained. She remembered the overwhelming feeling of Y/n's emotions. They crashed into her stronger than any wave could and even after all these years they were just as strong.

"Then why haven't they done anything?" Bucky asked. He looked down at her finding the same lost expression on her face that was more than likely on his.

"I don't know. Y/n told me last week the same thing she told me all those years ago. Things are too complicated and she can't risk losing him if he doesn't feel the same." Wanda quoted Y/n, her annoyance seeping through her words.

Bucky scoffed, recognizing the excuse as something very similar to Steve's and he shook his head, feeling the same defeat Wanda did. "Just like them to be too stupid to be happy." He groaned, looking up at them.

"Yeah. But hopefully when he kisses her one of them will do something." Wanda hoped her statement might encourage their boldness.

"Unless it's a repeat of spin the bottle." Bucky said, dreading the chance that it might happen. Wanda cringed, shaking her head.

"Y/n won't allow it. She takes the game too seriously." She replied, more to convince herself than Bucky. It was true. Y/n would get Steve to kiss her whether it was for the win or her own motives. That is if her nerves didn't take over.

"Let's hope."

•••

"Well, if it isn't Spiderman." Y/n called out, grabbing Peter's attention. He smiled brightly, finally being called by his preferred name and not Spiderboy.

"Ms. Y/n! What-what are you doing here?" Peter's sore attempt at small talk made him wince but thankfully Y/n didn't seem to mind, looking down at his glass.

"Just mingling. Whatcha drinking?" She asked curiously, wondering if Tony had allowed the poor boy a drink while dealing with all the people who no doubt asked him millions of questions regarding his presence and age.

"Sprite. Mr. Stark said he can't allow me to 'drink and swing'." Peter adjusted his glass, using his fingers as quotations before letting out a short giggle at the phrase.

Y/n laughed as well, trying to appear relaxed as she felt a certain pair of eyes on her. Steve was standing just a few feet away with Tony, not within earshot but close enough to send butterflies to her stomach. With each kiss she collected she felt more and more anxious knowing eventually she'd reach Steve. Was she ready for that?

"Well, that simply won't do. It's a party, Peter, and I can't allow you to not drink. When I was your age Tony was slipping me drinks left and right, it's only fair I pass on the tradition." She explained, leaning forward carefully as her hand brushed his.

He blushed, his eyes widening like saucers as she skillfully slipped his glass out of his hand, replacing it with her own. Glancing at Tony as if expecting to be caught, he was relieved to find his father figure blissfully unaware of their treachery.

"Ms. Y/n, I really shouldn't-"

"Don't worry, I'll drive you home if you're that worried. I got you bro." Y/n promised, nudging his arm with a kind smile. "Now tell me you've at least tried champagne. You've been to like three of these parties now." She laughed her smile growing as he joined in.

"Yeah, well, I mean a little bit from my Aunt May's glass." Y/n shook her head, putting her hand on his shoulder, a dramatic look of sorrow on her face.

"My poor boy. I have many things to share with you. Speaking of which, Shuri is asking if you're coming with me to Wakanda next week." Y/n sipped the soda watching as Peter's fingers danced happily against his own glass.

"Really?! I mean, of course! If you want me to. I've never been, what's it like?" Peter rambled, his face lit up in excitement, making Y/n chuckle at how thrilled the boy was.

"You'll see soon enough. I'll come get you next Friday and bring your suit, I'm sure Shuri would love to tinker with it." Y/n advised. Peter nodded wildly, psyched for such a trip.

"Thank you, Ms. Y/n." Peter grinned. Y/n wrapped an arm around his shoulders turning him in the direction of where Tony was standing.

"Peter, Y/n is fine. Trust me, I'm one of the few people in this world who know what it's like to have Tony as a father figure and anyone who can handle that is okay in my book." Y/n laughed, pointing at the man in question.

As if sensing their shit talking, Tony turned around, catching sight of them. A suspicious glare was sent their way but Y/n could hardly notice it as another figure stepped into view, following Tony's gaze.

It was then that they were forced to look at one another head on. Not at a glance or a sneaky peek. They might as well have been standing in front of one another as they both froze.

If Y/n's heart decided to stop in that instant, she wouldn't blame it. The pure intensity of Steve's gaze was enough to make her shudder and she fought her every molecule to stare back. There was a warmth in his eyes, one that sent a flutter of giddiness through her.

A small smile crept onto his face and Y/n gasped, forcing herself to return the gesture and not just gawk at him. She was at a loss for words. It was the first time since Thanos that he had given her any sort of acknowledgement. While it hurt that their friendship had seemed to diminish while she'd been gone, she knew that rekindling it was a two way street. But now he was smiling at her. And she was smiling back.

She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until Peter stepped in front of her, his hands resting on her shoulders and his brows furrowed in concern. "Y/n? Are you okay?" His voice was soothing and it helped her recover her loss of breath from her moment with Steve.

"Huh? Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just...uh, thinking." She mumbled, her eyes drifting back to Steve once more. His smile had faltered slightly, his face beginning to match Peter's concern but with a small curve of her lips, she assured him that his worry was senseless.

"About the game?"

"Hmm?" Y/n questioned, directing her attention to the boy once more. Peter eyed his glass carefully before taking a cautious sip.

"The game you play with Ms. Natasha and Ms. Wanda. You're playing, right? I saw you earlier with Thor." He explained. Y/n's face flushed, a little embarrassed that her moment with Thor had been witnessed by someone she knew. What if Steve saw? Would he be jealous?

Y/n nearly shook her head, convincing herself that she wasn't worth being jealous over. Especially to Steve.

"Oh, yeah. We are. That reminds me, you like Star Wars right?" She smirked, looking at him as she sipped his soda, the pink on his cheeks making her giggle.

"Well, yeah, I mean lots of people do. I'm not the only one-that would be weird. Unless you like it, not that you liking it would make it less weird. Not that you're not weird! Weird-"

"Peter!" Y/n laughed, putting her hand on his as she lightly brought the drink down. "Whew boy, maybe alcohol isn't your thing. Then again you've always been a rambler." She gently took the drink back from him, watching as a wave of relief washed over him.

"Have you eaten yet? I think there's hors d'oeuvres around here somewhere." She muttered, glancing around for any servers. Peter shook his head accepting his soda back before looking back up at her.

"No I'm okay, really." He told her, his heart warming at how much she seemed to care. It was nice and he enjoyed his relationship with Y/n. She allowed him to do things with her like travel, patrol, even hang out in the lab and she quickly became another idol of his.

"Are you thinking of watching Star Wars?" He asked her, referring to her previous question. She smiled, shaking her head.

"No, I've already seen it, I'm just thinking of a pick up line for the game. Tonight's rules are if you like my line I get a kiss and I fully intend on winning tonight." Peter nearly choked on air as his eyes widened yet again.

"A kiss? From me?" Y/n giggled, tapping her finger to her cheek.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Parker. A kiss on the cheek will do." She teased, making his face impossibly redder. He shook his head frantically trying to display as best he could that it wasn't his intention.

"I'm kidding. Now are you ready to hear my cheesy pick up line or will I just have to forfeit?" Peter's head didn't seem to stop shaking as he urged her to continue. "Alright here goes."

"Hey, sweetheart. Do you like Star Wars cause Yoda only one for me." With a wink she smiled, enjoying the scrunch of Peter's nose as he cringed at the line. 

"Not doing it for ya?" She laughed. Peter scoffed, trying to hide the smile that threatened to show.

"I hate to admit it, but it was kinda funny." He sighed, ashamed to have enjoyed such a horrible line. Y/n's grin grew, pointing to her cheek once more.

"Then pay up. I've got two more kisses to collect." Peter smiled, leaning forward and pecking the space her finger had been. "Thank you. Now find someone to mess with. I won't be the only one reeking havoc tonight." She poked a stern finger into his chest. With some convincing he eventually promised to at least pull a prank on Sam and Bucky.

With that she began to make her way to Tony. A knot formed in her stomach as she paced in his direction yet it wasn't Tony who made her nervous. No, only Steve Rogers could make her feel so squeamish and turn her legs to jelly. And she was making her way straight toward him.

Y/n could barely hear the click of her heels and the chatter of those around her over the pep talk she was giving herself in her head. She refused to embarrass herself in front of him. This was going to be her second chance and she wouldn't allow her nerves to ruin it again.

"As I live and breathe! Do I stand before Iron Man and Captain America? I do hope this isn't a dream." Steve's soft chuckle seemed to go straight to her core and she feared her heart might beat right out of her chest.

"Don't encourage her, Cap." Tony grumbled, turning his gaze to Y/n. "Well, if it isn't my favorite niece."

"Your only niece." Y/n corrected, a short glare focused on him as he smirked.

"Let me guess you're here to win the game. Let's hear it so poor Cap here can get a turn. I don't think he's kissed a woman since the 40s." Tony leaned down, whispering the last part and making Y/n giggle.

"Hey!" Steve objected in vain. But what Y/n said next sent any duty to protect his pride out the window.

"That's a crying shame. The ladies must not know what they're missing." Y/n froze as the words left her mouth. What was she thinking? Her face burned and she hid behind her glass trying to muffle her embarrassed groan with her champagne.

"Jeez, get a room." Steve and Y/n both glared at Tony but he didn't seem to care, instead shrugging innocently.

"Alright, here's your line you impatient ass." Y/n scoffed, deciding to use a particularly bad line for the annoying man she dared call her father figure.

"Was that it?" He smirked.

"Shut up, I gotta turn around and approach this again or else it won't work." She hissed, earning a heartfelt laugh from Steve. Twice. She'd made him laugh twice. Her heart was practically singing at the thought. Maybe she'd actually get to kiss him?

With more determination than before, she turned around, taking a few steps away before dramatically turning back to them. Using theatrics she no doubt learned from Tony Stark himself, she put on a smile before holding her arms out in a grand gesture.

"Well I'm here, what's your next two wishes?"

"That was horrendous." Tony said almost immediately while Steve tried to contain his laughter behind them.

"Well, I couldn't very well waste my best lines on you now could I?" Y/n jested, taking the glass in his hand and pouring what remained of his drink into her now empty glass.

Tony's teasing expression fell as he painfully watched Y/n sip her glass. "I can't believe you're related to me." Y/n smiled back at him proudly.

"Only by marriage." She shrugged. Tony sighed, leaning down and pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead just along her hairline.

"Thank god." He ignored Y/n's squinted stare, turning to Steve. "I think I'm going to go get another drink, since mine was so blatantly stolen." Tony glanced at Y/n who shamelessly smirked.

"But first I wanna hear your pick up line for Cap. Please be something patriotic. Maybe sing him the national anthem." He suggested, nudging Steve forward to where he stood before Y/n.

Not expecting Tony's push, Steve stumbled nearly crashing into Y/n but thankfully he caught himself, only having a redder face than before.

"I'm not sure the national anthem is a pick up line, Tony." Y/n replied, focusing on anything but Steve. At this distance she could smell the familiar cologne and feel the heat radiating from him. It reminded her all too much of the days before the snap. When he'd hold her whenever she was hurt or when he'd pick her up to launch her toward an enemy. Reminded her of the few hugs they'd managed to share.

Reminded her of their last before she dusted in his arms.

"I don't know. He's really horny for America, it might work." Tony refuted, earning a threatening gaze from both Steve and his niece.

"Fine, y'know what? Have privacy or whatever in the middle of this crowded party. See if I care." Tony said, a little butt hurt that he wouldn't be able to witness the awkward exchange first hand.

He was no idiot when it came to his niece's attraction to the super soldier. While at first he disapproved, even more so when it led to her being on the opposite side that day in Berlin, years had led to forgiveness. He couldn't really stay mad at her even if he tried. Only sorry he hadn't apologized before the snap.

"Thank you, Tony." Y/n spoke quietly, sending him a grateful look. Whatever was about to happen already made her nervous, she didn't think doing it with Tony there would be possible.

"Yeah, yeah." He waved a dismissive hand, beginning to walk away.

It wasn't until he had Morgan that he realized he was already a father. Y/n had been his first and no matter his guilt, she would always forgive him. Always need him.

"Don't get carried away." He threatened suddenly, pointing to his eyes before twisting his hand back to them with a menacing squint.

Y/n rolled her eyes, looking back to Steve as Tony finally left.

"He's protective." Y/n explained, trying to be annoyed. It was actually kinda touching the way he cared despite his usual selfish smartass exterior.

"For good reason." Steve agreed, making Y/n's head tilt confused.

"You think I can't take care of myself?" She questioned defensively, ready to prove her worth no matter who he was.

"No, of course you can. Just-..." He trailed off, a sorrowful expression taking hold of his features against his will. "We've both failed you before. Numerous times." Steve confessed, his eyes falling downcast as Y/n realized what he'd meant.

She’d never truly thought about how her absence might have affected him. Before the snap he never gave any hint that he wanted to be more than a friend to her. But now she studied that look in his eye, that one she hadn’t recognized before. Heartbreak. 

"Steve, you didn't fail me." She insisted. Her hand had come to his own, grasping lightly at his loose fingers and ignoring the buzz in her skin and the rapid pace of her heart.

"No, I did. I turned you against your family. I got you arrested. I dragged you back into the fight and...you got snapped away." His voice broke at the end, years of depression and misery washing over him all over again.

"It wasn't your fault. We all lost that day." Y/n argued but her words didn't seem to stick.

"I'll never forgive myself." Steve's words were barely above a whisper, each syllable falling further into him unable to escape.

The sight alone made her heart ache but it was the way he'd spoken that truly shook her. They were the words of a broken man, a man that had lost it all. Had she done that to him? Did he care about her like that? Maybe he was scared too.

“Well, it's a good thing I already did.” Y/n smiled hoping to bring back the smile that she'd been able to give him moments before. Her hand stayed planted to his own more terrified to release it than she was to keep holding it. Would she ever work up the courage to do it again?

Steve looked back up at her, a tender glimmer in his eye as he moved his hand to hold her own. “I missed you.”

The statement alone wasn't nearly enough to convey how much he'd longed for her in those five years, left without any hope of ever getting her back. Didn’t show her the sleepless nights or the endless tears. Didn’t show her first few years he spent, alone and secluded. Didn’t show her how many times he prayed to any god that would listen for them to bring her back. 

But her eyes seemed to tell him that she understood. Y/n knew exactly how he felt even if she'd been relieved of it for five years. She remembered when she was arrested, screaming at the guards that they'd never find Steve. Remembered the sobs that racked through her when he came to free her, relieved he’d made it out of the war safely. Remembered their time on the run, unable to tell him how she felt. Remembered volunteering to stay with Bucky when Steve's worry became too much. Remembered him coming back and bring a war with him. Remembered him catching her before she dusted, too fast for her to tell him her greatest truth. 

She loved him.

“I missed you too.” She said softly, her face burning under his gentle gaze. They’d become so unbearably close at that point, making her breath ragged and her heart race. 

Clearing her throat, she looked away, trying not to reveal how flustered he made her. “So do you wanna hear my pick up line or not?” She once again changed the subject, making Steve smile at her lovingly. 

“Definitely.” He replied. 

“Alright. On a scale of 1 to America, how free are you tonight?” She gave him the first one that came to find, silently groaning when she realized she'd done exactly what Tony suggested. Curse their horribly similar minds. 

"That's terrible." Steve chuckled, staring at her with adoration unlike he'd ever done before. She was absolutely perfect in his eyes and he refused to waste anymore time being scared. 

"You didn't like that? I have more." Y/n rambled, oblivious toward Steve's affectionate gaze. "Can I tie your shoes? I don't want you falling for anyone else." 

Steve laughed, shaking his head as he stepping forward and shifting his hand to her waist as he pulled her closer. 

The action on flustered her further, dragging another pick up line out of her. "Or I like your last name, can we share it?" 

Steve's smile grew, his heart swelling with each word. He loved listening to her lines even if they were cheesy. But he was determined now and he wouldn't let either of their nerves stop them anymore. 

"I lost my number, can I have-"

Suddenly he leaned forward, cutting her sentence short as his lips latched onto her own. 

The kiss was so tender she practically melted in his arms, her hand coming to his chest while the other shifted to behind his neck, her fingers filtering through the lower part of his hair. His grip around her waist tightened as his heart pounded under her palms, the aftermath of anticipation rushing through his chest. 

It was effortless the way they molded together and it left him breathless. He couldn't believe he'd never just kissed her before and after believing all these years he'd never get the chance to, he was so grateful to have her now. 

"I've waited too long for that. I think I'm gonna need interest." Y/n gasped as they pulled away her eyes half lidded as she tried to process what had happened. 

"Was that another pick up line?" Steve's brows furrowed, his lips a beautiful shade of darker pink. 

Y/n smiled up at him, pulling him close once more. "Shut up." 

••• 

"Who's gonna tell her she didn't win?" Wanda questioned suddenly, glancing over at Nat. 

Sam raised his hands in surrender, passing off the duty as soon as possible to avoid any type of rage the woman might've wreaked on him. 

"I don't think she'll really care at this point." Nat spoke, pointing a finger toward the couple across the room. 

They didn't seem to care that they were in a room full of people, instead remaining engrossed in each other as they stared at each other lovingly. It was touching really but what Nat assumed to be their confessions had lost Y/n the game. 

"Wait does this mean the games with stop?" Sam questioned suddenly. 

"No, it'll just make them more interesting." Nat smirked.

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 9

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

You feel an aura of uncertainty floating around Bucky as he paces the bedroom floor. You peek up and see that he's got this heavy look of concern for what's he's just walked in on that you find disappointing. You want him to want this, you want him to want you.

“When is he coming back?” Bucky asks, his brows knitting closer together.

You glance over at the windows of the bedroom towards the sky, your only indication of time from your spot on the middle of the bed. Lifting your chin you look at him twisting your lips to the side with hesitancy. You’re not technically permitted to speak until the Baron comes back, but you know Bucky won’t tell Zemo.

“He said just an hour or so. The sun is past that third window now so it should be soon.”

Bucky spins around, his eyes darting across the wall of windows to see what you see. “That’s how you tell time?” He sounds appalled.

You laugh a little. “When I’m not allowed to move— yes.”

He looks back across the room at you, trying to understand. “You swear you like it?” He asks a little more gently this time.

Poor man. “Yes, I swear.”

“Why?”

“Because it feels good. Don’t kink shame me James, or him.”

Bucky takes a step back, he looks a little offended but also uncertain of what exactly he should be offended by. You love how he doesn’t go out of his way to keep up with the changing phrases of the day, like he refuses to loose that little bit of 1940.

Clearing his throat he rubs his hand of flesh and bone over the back of his neck like he’s nervous to ask this next question but he does anyway. “So this?" He waves his hand up and down in your direction. "When he tells you to sit here and not move, is what you like? What about—what about what I heard?” He says it like he’s got one over on you now.

You just smile. He’s really having a hard time and it’s adorable if not a little frustrating, so you try to make it easy. “You mean last night?”

“Yeah.” He says as if there was some other time he heard the crack of the Baron’s belt and your muffled cries.

“Did Sam hear?”

“He sleeps like a rock.”

You’re relieved. Now that would be embarrassing, but Bucky… he and Zemo already have such a dynamic. “Are you asking if I liked the way he punished me for breaking rule three that morning? Because yes. I mean it hurts. Fuck, it always hurts. But that pain heightens the best parts. And, I like the way he makes me feel safe and loved.”

“By beating you!” He spits out, his face showing more emotion than you thought he was capable of.

“No, Bucky. By showing me that mutual trust and respect is real. I would not choose this life with someone who doesn’t love me like he does.”

“Beautifully said.”

You gasp and hang your head when Zemo appears in the doorway.

For the last hour you’ve been sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed, waiting for him to come back wearing a soft cotton t-shirt and white underwear to match with the thigh high socks he likes. Around your neck is the simple, very thin gold chain with the circle pendant that hovers over the hollow of your throat. You typically save it for when you're out. Its symbol is recognizable by those in the know as a display of your submissive life to a dom who has great taste.

“Forgive me Baron, I was just trying to explain it to him…” You feel the muscles between your legs clench and your heart race. He’ll punish you for this, there’s not denying it.

Zemo’s face is unreadable. He takes steady, confident steps across the room, his coat swaying and stops at the edge of the bed motioning for you to scoot down.

You sort of bunny hop once using your hands to rock your body forward and sit back with your hands in your lap.

His gloved finger is under your chin to lift your head, his kind eyes making your heart soar. “And did you?”

“I don’t know actually.”

He takes his hand away but strokes your cheek as he looks over at Bucky. “Did she?”

“Explain whatever the hell it is you two are up to? No, not really. No.”

“Perhaps then, a display?”

“No thanks” Bucky says and he sounds angry or annoyed, but then you notice he hasn’t actually moved from his spot by the windows.

“Tell me James, have you ever had a woman on her knees, ready and willing to do anything you tell her too?” Zemo asks and turns back to you, his gloved thumb tracing your lip, before his hand slips around to smooth up the back of your neck.

Bucky looks away shaking his head, not in answer but in disbelief. “We don’t do things that way where I’m from...when I’m from.”

“Oh you’d be surprised.” Zemo says with a sly smile as he looks back down at you. “So many things were hidden in the past, things that we can openly explore now.” He tilts his head looking you over. “Open you mouth.”

You do.

Bucky winces and steps back but you see the way his curiosity keeps him standing there, and then you look up at Zemo who is frowning down at you like a disappointed father.

“I told you, no talking. Remember?” He asks you.

You give an open mouth uh-huh.

Zemo laughs a little. “Shame you can’t seem to actually follow the rules you apparently know so well.” He says with a tsk and looks back at Bucky who has moved a little closer in spite of his attempts at being appalled.

Zemo unzips his pants and Bucky looks away. “Wider” Zemo says and you open your mouth more and wait. When he pushes you down and the head of his cock is in your mouth he sighs and grabs your hair, holding your head steady so that he can begin to move, just a little.

“You see. She is mine completely. To do with as I wish.” He says, his voice tight as he forces his way into your mouth so far you gag. He holds it there for a second but pulls back and you gasp for air.

“Jesus…” Bucky turns away and you feel the small sting of shame. It’s not like what you’re used to, Zemo never once made you question this. Maybe Bucky just can't be a part of it? But then you think back to the way he'd watched you on the flight in. How he tried to look out the window but kept looking back at your open legs while Zemo controlled your orgasm. That same curiosity was burning in his gaze now.

“Care to see more?” Zemo asks, his erection hovering in front of your open mouth.

“No, not really.”

Helmut shrugs, “Suit yourself. I suggest you leave the room before I begin.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything else and you peek up from your position on the bed to see him. He pauses and looks back at you over his shoulder just as Zemo orders you to finish, and you close your eyes ignoring the rejection of the Winter Soldier choosing instead to focus on the man who praises you as you submit to his love and his commands.

He’s so confused— 😂

Pouring a glass of wine, you’re humming softly to yourself as you go to the smart-home screen on the kitchen counter to pick some music. The men are out, hunting down super soldiers or something, who knows. All three of them are so tense it’s beginning to make you think it’s time to go back your own apartment, but Zemo is worried the Power Broker has it out for him so he’s told you to stay here until this business is over.

“I like that song”

You jump nearly spilling your wine. “Fuck! Bucky? I thought you were still out! Where are Sam and Helmut?” You ask sucking the red from the corner of your hand.

He glances over his shoulder then back at you as he comes closer. “They’re at the bar.” He says, his voice strained as if he’s uncomfortable.

“Oh.” You’re instantly aware of his slightly off energy. “Why aren’t you?”

“Zemo asked me to come back and make sure you were still safe.” He says looking down at you. “We had a hell of a day.”

That seems weird. “Really? Usually he does that himself.”

Bucky shrugs. “I guess he thought I could handle it.” He says and you realize that he’s still a little shy and awkward around you and it makes you want to laugh, not at him, but because it’s sweet. You’re so used to the confidence of Zemo that Bucky’s behavior feels fresh and new even after yesterday’s rejection.

“Well thanks. I’m fine.” You say rolling your eyes and setting your glass on the counter waiting for him to say whatever it is he’s trying very hard to get out.

“Yep.” He looks away and rubs at the back of his neck for a second before looking down at you again. “Are you sure?”

You sigh letting your head fall back a bit. “Please, stop asking. The answer will always be the same.”

His piercing eyes quickly look you up and down. He’s searching, assessing, looking for even the smallest sign of you needing to be rescued because he’s so ready to swoop in and save you from the evil Zemo. But you’ll never need his heroics, you are as much the aggressor as the man you say yes to, and it’s time Bucky stop seeing you as the damsel in distress.

He settles back in his stance and you see a change in his face. “Zemo didn’t tell me to come and check on you.”

No shit, you think with a smile. “What did he send you to do?” You ask and grab your glass to take a good swallow of the red blend.

“He told me —well he said ‘tell her to take the second waiting position’, whatever that means.”

You feel your chest and neck flush. “Oh…”

“What is that? What does that mean?” Bucky’s back in hero mode. A part of you wants to say yes please save me (you’ve only been put in this position once before and it was incredible but very intense) but the part of you that loves this just shrugs.

“It seems he’s put you in a tight spot.” You say mocking Zemo’s accent a little. Bucky smiles and your heart flutters. “I can’t take that position without some help James.”

You look up at him and sip your wine waiting for him catch on.

When he does, he seems a little disappointed, like he’s upset with himself for falling for it. “Then you should wait for Zemo to get back.” He says looking around as if suddenly interested in the cabinets, the muscles of his jaw working as he tries to stay defiant.

“Well, that’s sort of the point, I’m meant to be waiting. You see when he did it to me before he put me in the restraints and then left me alone for a while before coming back. I can’t put them on myself.”

“Restraints?” He takes a step back, his arms dropping at his sides.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.” Well, maybe it is to someone who doesn’t understand, you think. “Please. You’ll be helping me a lot. If I’m not bound and waiting, I’ll be punished for that too. Last time he said I took too long walking into the bedroom.” You say chuckling at the memory. Bucky can’t seem to find the humor in this but he’s also staring at you with a look in his eye that you’ve seen on many men. James Barnes may now be among the best of them, but he is still a man.

“It's all right. I’ll tell you what to do.” You say and lick the wine from your lips.

[hello-nichya-here]

Zucest - Is It Really Flirting?

(Originally posted on AO3 as chapter 43 of Defending and Analysing Zucest)

@azdaema-does-art asked: So I think a big stumbling block for me with this ship is that I very much adhere to the reading of the show that holds:

Quasi-Seducer!Azula (as seen virtually anytime) and Quasi-Seducer!Zuko (as seen in "The Waterbending Scroll") are not actually expressions of desire from them. Rather, this is Zuko and Azula trying to be intimidating by modeling their behavior off their father (circling, personal-space-invading, low seductive tones, etc)

When actually trying to flirt neither Zuko nor Azula acts anything like that. When Zuko goes on that date with a girl in the Earth Kingdom, or Azula flirting with that guy on Ember Island, they're both awkward disasters.

I'd be curious to hear you address this. (Or point me to some awkward disaster!zucest fanfic.)

***

That is a really good point and I'm glad you brought it up. While I understand that reading of the show, I disagree with it slightly for a few reasons (beyond my own bias).

Need to be in control: No one can argue against the fact that neither Zuko nor Azula know how to have "normal", healthy relationships with others, mainly due to how unequal 99% of the relationships in the Fire Nation are since imposing your own will over someone else's has become part of their culture. Both Zuko and Azula accepted being treated like mere tools/punching bags by their father, Zuko was constantly insulting Iroh over the smallest things and Azula full on threatened Ty Lee's life to make her join her on her chase after her brother and the Avatar - both were scenarios where desire wasn't a factor at all (thought I know many fans that would like to think otherwise XD)

However, during The Beach, we saw how both of them try (and fail) to deal with romance. Zuko was extremelly paranoid that Mai was interested in another guy, for no real reason, and was constantly trying to intimidate her into either admiting to it or into saying she disliked the guy, even though she had clearly said she was completely indifferent to him. And Azula, after her kiss with Chan, decided, on her own and not giving a damn about his feelings on the matter, that not only would they be officially a couple, but that they'd dominate the earth together. Control is, more often than not, a major factor in all of their actions and relationships, so Azula wanting to intimidate Zuko in the bedroom scene (which she very much tried to do and succeeded at) doesn't automatically rule out the possibility of atraction.

Mixed feelings: While "I wanna fight/kill my sibling" is sort of these two default state, there are moments that show that they do have at least some positive feelings for each other. Zuko doesn't give a shit that Aang is going to kill Ozai, but seeing Azula falling "to her death" and then chained up and defeated after their Agni Kai quite clearly made him emotional, even if he tried to control himself. Azula's positive feelings for Zuko are so obvious I had to do an in length discussion of it in chapter 12 "Is Zucest just about sex?" Combine all of the conflicting emotions they have for each other with their need to control the other, and some scenes end up getting some connotations the writers weren't planning them to have... supposedly (I'll get into that in a bit)

Awareness and familiarity: Don't get me wrong, Zuko and Azula are two extremelly traumatized, socially awkward teenagers who have no idea how to flirt (or how to fit in with people their age) but we also need to take context into consideration, especiall when it comes to Zuko's date with Jin and Azula's interactions with Chan.

In Ba Sing Se, Zuko was outside of his comfort zone, away from home, in enemy territory, and so paranoid that he assumed Jin came into the tea shop so often because she knew they were Fire Nation, not because she had a crush on him or simply enjoyed their tea. And while he liked her and the date was nice, Zuko was very "stiff" and even looked a bit uncomfortable (not to say very uncomfortable) at some points - which is oddly simmilar to how he was acting during the bedroom scene (hell, Azula was quite clearly looking at him just like Jin did, as I pointed out in "The most important parallel in Avatar"). Finally, we cannot forget that, even though he was awkward as fuck during 90% of the night, Zuko did manage to do something kinda romantic by lighting up the place, meaning he isn't completely oblivious to the concept of flirting (which is proved by his relationship with Mai).

Now, when it comes to Azula, the poor girl has almost no idea how to flirt. Almost. Talking about Chan's sharp outfit shows she's got some of the basis down, like "say something nice" - the problem is that her concept of "nice" is very different than that of most people. She did sort of know what to do once Ty Lee gave her some tips... but she quickly reversed back to her regular ways - which once again shows that flirting/seduction has an element of control and intimidation for her. She probably doesn't always mean to act in ways that could be considered flirty, but that doesn't mean she is completely oblivious to the implications of, let's say, invading her brother's personal space and talking to him in a low tone while wearing nothing but a robe.

And since I mentioned Azula going back to what she knows, that leads us to another thing to take into account: the fact that Zuko and Azula quite literally knew each other their whole lives - meaning if they were to ever flirt with each other, it would probably look at least somewhat different than when they were out of their element. Azula was the one in control, so she was far more comfortable and confident than she had been with Chan, and Zuko was the one being intimidated, which explains why he kept his guard up. Once again, that "theory" is sort of confirmed if we compare how Zuko acted while flirting with Mai on The Headband versus how he tried to interact with her in The Beach - when he used a non-traditional, but very Mai-esque "You're so beautiful when you hate the world" he got her equivalent of an "I love you" when she told him she didn't hate him, but he tried to do more "normal" things like getting her a pretty shell it blew up on his face. He knows Mai since they were both kids, meaning he usually knows how to deal with her, just like Azula usually knows how to deal with him.  

Intensity: While a lot of Azula's behavior can be explained by her copying Ozai, we need to remember that there's only so much he could affect, especially since her way of "intimidating" Zuko was far more touchy and incestuous than his, and lasted a lot longer. Azula gets close to people when she's intimidating them (see how she toyed with Aang in The Drill), but not as close as she did with her brother. The sole exception to that being Sokka on The Day Of Black Sun - but that is on somewhat shaky ground despite the accidental sexual tension since the first time she got close to him she was being launched by the Dai Li and he just happened to be standing a little bellow the direction she was launched at, and the second time had him pinning her to the wall (which is in character since Sokka usually goes straight at his foes to intimidate them while fighting), and as soon as she had her firebending back she pushed him away. On top of that, she was trying to distract him, Aang and Toph, meaning he wasn't her focus at all, and she ignored him on all the other times their groups were facing each other.

With Zuko on the other hand, she was going full force, like I said on my analysis of the bedroom scene. She played coy, stared at him in a very intense, weird way, circled the pillar on her bed, stretched in front of him, got on his personal space touching his shoulder and chest, and bit her lip while talking basically purring her words. That is all a bit too much for me to believe it was just about intimidation. And the touching gets even more suspicious when you notice Azula does enjoy and is willing to give physical affection - she hugged both Mai and Ty Lee after seeing them again, pulled Ty Lee close while conforting her and apologizing for her harsh words at The Beach... and put her hand on Zuko's shoulder while saying he restored his own honor to reassure him after he was feeling bad for betraying his uncle.

Intention of the actors/writers/animators: Avatar is no stranger to parallels. It also isn't a stranger to adult themes/jokes, fanservice, and ship teasing. For instance, even thought they didn't end up together and were never canonically interested in each other, there was A LOT of hints/teases of Zutara - dude fucking took lightining to the heart for her.

Just like the writers and producers were aware of Zutara, Tokka and many, many other ships, they were also aware of Zucest and even jokingly shipped Azula and The Blue Spirit at a panel. The animators habit of sexualizing the characters speaks for itself, so I won't even go into that. Finally, Grey Delisle, Azula's voice actress is a Zucest shiper, has brought it up many times, asked people to send her fanart and fanfic of it, created the phrase "Zucest is best cest", and has full on said she voiced the scene as if Azula was trying to seduce Zuko,  - which regardless of whether or not the writers intended for the character to be doing, means that there is a very strong incest subtext to the scene and that, in a weird way, "Azula" herself confirmed her motives to act the way she did.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 13

first time readers click here 💖

TWs/Summary: In this house, we ship Reader/Tony's Rolls-Royce. Reader and Tony being dorks on a date. That's it that's the chapter. Lots of sass and Tony being Tony.

A question for my readers: Are you still invested? How's the slow burn? Is everything realistic? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

As usual, my beta is @miscmarvelwritings . I love her.

"Nice digs, Cupcake."

"Nice ride, Tin Man."

The sass fell from my lips, warm and familiar, paving the way for our upcoming debut like the old, soft living room rug. Any awkwardness I had expected there to be left the moment I saw Tony pull up to my front gate in his Royce: the man was just that extra. The size of my estate, the five-figure outfit of mine - it paled in comparison to his own clout. 

In a world where my choices were usually distributed between stuck-up rich boys or insecure middle-class men, Tony was a fresh drink of water with his absolute indifference towards my and his own net worth.

I wasn't afraid to admire said ride, either. Being a huge petrolhead was what got me interested in engineering, physics and computer sciences in the first place. The desire for speed grew into thirst for knowledge: how to get more horsepower, how to tune, how to mod. No mechanic took an eighteen year old rich-girl seriously even when I had all the lingo right, I had to be a step ahead, at all times, if I wanted my ride to be the best. And I never settled for less than that.

"No driver?" I inquired for the reason behind the unusual behaviour. After all, a Rolls' wasn't the kind of car you drive personally. All the amenities it had, it had in the back.

"Gave Happy a day off," Tony remarked absently. I noticed the small quirk of his eyebrow, however. He was intrigued.

I decided to give it a shot. "So what, this thing packs, what, about five-fifty horses?" I mused, watching Tony nearly swerve into the opposite lane. "At two and a half tons, it's still gotta be pretty quick with that V12-turbo. How fast it go?" The satisfaction was immeasurable, as pleasant to my soul as sitting in a heated leather chair with the smell of a new car, engine quietly rumbling in front of me. And by quietly I mean, it was focus-or-you'll-miss-it kind of quiet.

"Well aren't you full of surprises, baby girl," Tony grinned; a happy, excited grin even. It made his face lose ten years of age just like that. "Zero to sixty in five and a half seconds," He said after a moment. 

"Not bad," I said, sounding impressed. I already knew that but I wasn't planning on robbing Tony out of well deserved praise for his choice in vehicles. 

"Got a ride of your own?" He asked with a smile, like he didn't know it already. No background check would have skipped my three speeding tickets, but I concur. This game was fun.

"I do, actually. It's a 2008 Range Rover. Supercharged," I added in the end, just to emphasise.

"A big car for such a little girl," Tony whistled playfully.

"I'm compensating," I deadpanned. "I'm a little slow on the uptake, y'know, so my Rangie with five hundred horses makes up for it. Gotta keep it balanced."

Tony chewed on his lip. "Five hundred? Haven't heard about that, it comes with three-ninety-five in stock," His eyebrow wiggled. "Tuned it?" He cast me a contemplative glance.

"Yup," I exclaimed happily. As far as the date, I would have been utterly ecstatic to talk about cars all evening. Screw the boring "where do you see yourself in five years" questions, talk to me about your favourite engine swaps. Concept cars, give me those. Monster trucks? Yes, please. Vintage low-riders? Couldn't wait to get my grubby little hands on one. Gimmee!

Tony kept his silence and kept his press smile starting the moment we set foot on getting out of the car. The place he'd taken me to was ridiculously upscale and fancy; the valet hesitated only for a second before catching the keys Tony so carelessly tossed in his direction. There was almost no fear in his body language when the boy approached the massive, expensive vehicle.

The hostess smiled big at Tony and gave me the world's biggest stink-eye when he looked the other way but what else is new? As soon as she left us in the privacy of our booth, I didn't hesitate to stick my tongue at her retreating back. A brief lapse in maturity, if you will.

Tony cackled, growing suddenly serious. "Did she bother you? I can get her fired. I should get her fired."

"Nah," I shrugged. "Don't really care, just wanted to showcase my amazing sense of humour." Snorting, I gave Tony a wink and a secretive grin.

"You really don't give a fuck, do you," His eyebrows twitched again, a sign of mild interest that I noted during our routine sciencing time together. Tony was incredibly expressive if one took the time to observe.

"I could suck your dick under the table right now," I answered honestly. "It's just that when God gave out things like dignity and shame, I wasn't home. Too many fun things to do, y'know," I spoke as casually as I could even though I was dying of laughter inside.

Eyes bulging, jaw hanging mid-way to the floor. Tony was serving Looks™ and I didn't mean just the white tee and purple blazer combo. "Princess, you're going to be the fucking death of me!" He took a sip from his water glass, smirking.

Finally releasing my mirth, I gathered my hands in a lock in front of me. His own, warm and calloused, reached over - I allowed the brief intimacy, clasping them, fiddling with the leather band of his watch. For a moment, it was just us, sitting in the dim light, discovering each other anew to Robert Johnson singing the blues and NYC bustling with life just behind the wall. 

The waiter took our orders - and if I totally butchered the Italian, Tony was gentleman enough not to make any remarks. 

"Somehow, every time I am with you, you both manage to meet my expectations to a T and surprise me at the same time," I wasn't able to completely ignore my nerves. My hand was still loosely in his and he didn't mind at all, me messing with his watch.

"How so?"

"I'm going to loosely quote someone, bear with me." Mr Davies's words popped into my mind just as I was wondering how to best articulate my feelings. "You're eccentric and interesting because it's, well, it's you, because it would be much weirder if we'd be sitting here and making boring small-talk and asking each other the genetic get-to-know-you questions," I briefly paused to sip my Dom Peringon and stare at our hands. Gathering my wits. "That would be why I don't do dates. It sounds so tedious on paper, just sorting through people until a person that's not absolutely mind-numbing comes around."

Tony was silent for a moment, the sheen of his eyes, the faraway look; he was lost in memories. Probably remembering all the girls he had charmed before. I didn't doubt it was easy for him: his smile was distracting and people usually were attracted to shiny things. He shone plenty. Also, most people were stupid, they never cared to look past the golden wrapper. I was convinced there was a diamond under it. But then again, I was biased.

"I've never thought about it that way, but I guess you're right," He finally said, serious. "With Pepper, at least, it was. Come to think of it, we never had that much in common, besides Stark Industries and her willingness to put up with my shit." It was painful for him to talk about her, that much was obvious. His laugh was forced and sardonic.

I, on the other hand, never understood why they got together in the first place. Or maybe I did - but the cold, composed Pepper and the chaotic, energetic Tony reminded me too much of my own parents. All four people in this fucked up equation could have been much happier if they choose... What? Being alone? That was terrifying, too.

I kept quiet, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

"You know, this is so bizarre. Even an eighteen year old kid has got it figured out," He suddenly said, his tone bitter like the coffee that he loved.

"Woah, slow down," I put up a hand. "I never said I know what to do. I just said I know what NOT to do." The 'kid' remark would have made me eye-roll so hard my skull would crack any day. In this context, however, it was pretty spot on.

Tony snorted. "And how did you come by that information, pray tell, Baby?"

I huffed. "Have you met my parents?" We simultaneously cringed and I hurried to erase that mental image. "I make fun of myself for being into old dudes all the time," I made air quotes around the phrase that made Tony scoff, "But, honestly speaking, I've never even been on a date. Like a real one. Usually it's twenty minutes and I'm falling asleep mid-conversation. People can't seem to keep up with me or something," I felt genuinely dejected. "So many meaningless questions, so many downright idiotic comments. From men," I pointed out the obvious. "My mother used to tell me she thought I was gay because I didn't act like a girl... Whatever that means."

"That sounds pretty shitty," Tony was studying me like one would have been looking at an exotic animal in a zoo. "That said, I agree."

"That I don't act like a girl?" I teased him, the left corner of my mouth tilting upward. "Fuck that noise. I want to drive fast cars, drink straight liquor and have orgasms. If that makes me a dude... I look pretty good for a dude in a dress."

We laughed in unison, tension evaporating under the shared, mutual understanding. With Tony, it was easy. The waiter brought our selected dishes. Blink-and-he's-gone. Top notch service.

"A dude in a dress, can't say I'm surprised 'bout your lack of dates," He remarked conversationally, happily digging into his food. The noises he made were intriguing, to say the least, and I followed suit on my own food, finding it absolutely delicious. A delicious meal with a delicious man at my side. I refused to feel guilty about my thoughts.

"I guess I have exactly one (1) date on my ledger now," I raised my argument.

The fork clattered as Tony once again, came to a sudden realization. "Holy shit, you weren't kidding."

"No shit," I gave into the urge to roll my eyes. "But on the upside, my first date was with the most gorgeous, intelligent and witty bachelor of the city. I'd say I don't have it all that bad," I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Aw, you're making me blush," Tony recovered quickly, grinning. "And don't be shy. The most desired bachelor of the country, if not the world."

I shook my head. "No, the world's most delectable bachelor is one of the Saudi princes. What's-his-name, the one who posts goat and horse pics on Insta," I snapped my fingers a couple of times, trying to remember the name as Tony looked at me all offended. "Anyways, you get my point. I could have a go at him, don't you think?" Cocking my shoulder, coyly twirling the strap of my dress, I gave Tony my best come-hither look and was rewarded with an appreciative once-over. His eyes were growing hungry again. 

"You're a million dollar baby," He finally said, voice low. "And the extent of people I would be willing to share you with is very small."

That got me interested, sudden heat prickling underneath my skin. The conversation took a turn I didn't expect it to; and there lied the delight of being around Tony. He was always ready to surprise, in the best way. "Tell me," I requested politely.

"That's a conversation for another time," He was enjoying the chit-chat, desire beginning to creep into his features.

"Mmm, you think?" I allowed the strap of my dress to slip down my shoulder, exposing a collarbone, showing him just how far I was willing to go to satisfy my curiosity.

He swallowed audibly. "I think... You're smart enough to figure it out," He finally gritted his teeth, finishing off his dinner and immediately calling for the check. 

I wasn't done yet, however. The possibility of riling him up, taunting him into a lustful frenzy - I was in heaven. Karma had favoured me that evening, it had given me a chance to get Tony back for all the times he unknowingly made my mouth water and my brain go blip. "Must be Steve then," I bit my lip in thought. 

Honestly? I was as clueless as the couple next table over. Steve it wasn't, that much I knew for sure, he and Tony had their little love/hate dramatic connection that always ended in a massive ego standoff. Tony would be on the frontline fighting against Steve if the blonde dared to show anything even remotely resembling romantic interest towards someone Tony himself had his eyes on.

"Princess," Tony growled, sarcastically raising an eyebrow.

"Not Steve," I replied, cracking a smile. Success! "You know, I'm really bad at guessing who's into me. Unless someone is balls deep in me," My face was mere inches away as we quickly shrugged on our coats. "And even then, I can't be sure."

My giggling was accompanied by Tony shaking his head in exasperated fashion; he took my hand nonetheless and I happily swayed it between us, poster child for "not a care in the world". He allowed it, maintaining the same exasperated air about him, and I let him. Fondness and happiness seeped through that anyways.

"Brat," His voice was kind. And his kiss tingled where he left it on the corner of my mouth, sweet and short. "Here, have a go," Before I could react, the keys to his Rolls Royce were placed in my palm and he was making his way around the car to the passenger's side.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)! @softie-socks @schemefrenzy

[buckyswinterbaby]

Always By My Side — Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue.

Synopsis: The fates have spent millenniums correcting the daily mishaps that interfere with soulmates ever meeting. Will they find a way to bring together Bucky and Zara, two people separated by time and circumstance, just as they’ve done a thousand times before?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): flashbacks, PTSD, mentions of past sexual assault, angst, bits of fluff

Word Count: 3,791

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). The divider was created by me, please credit me if you use it. The gifs are not mine. Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: Here’s chapter one of my new series “Always By My Side”. It takes place in a soulmate AU where a bond is triggered when one or both halves experience a life threatening level of distress. The bond allows them to see imaginary versions of their soulmates to help support them while they wait to meet their other half. Just a warning, up until we reach the current time in the story, there will be significant time skips for plot progression’s sake. The time changes will always be labeled.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s chapter one, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer !

[Bucharest, Romania -- 2016]

The Romanian streets were bustling with early morning energy as Bucky took the final steps outside of the clearly worn apartment complex that he had been calling home for sometime. He seemed unfazed by the sixteen year old girl practically jogging to keep up in step with his longer strides. He had grown rather accustomed to her presence and her commentary since she first appeared to him in 2014. It had been during his final brainwashing session with Hydra before they fell. He couldn’t help but view her as a banshee of sorts, harkening the end of what remained of his mental stability. He couldn’t fathom another reason as to why he would hallucinate an opinionated teenage girl.

Even so, he found comfort in their conversations and how at ease she seemed around him. Almost as if she had always been with him, a piece of himself that still saw the good that was left. Never addressing him with fear or apprehension, never as the monster and killer he was forced to become.

Her features were young and innocent, seemingly unscarred by life despite the bruises that graced her skin--which he was never sure why they existed. At first, he feared that she had been one of his countless victims who had returned to haunt him in her afterlife, though the theory became less likely to him as more time passed.

The defined coils of her hair were pushed up into a messy bun, edges laid smoothly to her forehead in defined loops. When she first started showing up, Bucky had attempted to make sense of the witty phrases and references that so frequently adorned her clothes but he had long since given up on ever understanding them. He had to admit that the shirt she wore that day, a middle finger painted with pink, yellow, and blue, was quite the fashion choice. Not that he could particularly judge with his similar pieces of clothing that were practically identical besides in color.

The pair made their way down the familiar stretch of pavement on their way to the outdoor market that Bucky had made a habit of visiting. He had found that a reliable schedule throughout his week helped him better grasp the passing of time, a fact that his companion had been informing him of for weeks before it finally seemed to click.

The girl’s nose clinked as they neared the fresh fish stand, just as it did every week. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish antics as they were so few and far between for someone who seemed quite mature despite her appearance.

“It smells like cat food,” she whined, making a clear act of breathing primarily through her mouth as she jogged to keep up. “How are you not gagging?”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being a figment of someone’s imagination, Zara. If I start gagging, I have a feeling a few people will start to notice.” The man gave her a knowing look. Drawing attention to himself was the exact opposite of what he wanted during his brief outings. “Besides, I can’t say I’ve smelt cat food or have any intention to. So I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Zara rolled her eyes as the smell began to dissipate the further they moved past the stand, her trademark smile working its way onto her features. “Could’ve had me fooled, I thought that was your guilty pleasure. I can’t say I’ve ever intentionally gotten a whiff, but when I feed the outdoor cats at my house, it’s kinda unavoidable.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an imaginary person to have their own home and animals.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes down to her smaller form beside him. “You don’t have a cat because you aren’t even real,” he retorted. Somehow the idea that she could be real made her presence in his life even harder. The idea that she was just some girl he had passed by in the street or on a mission and his brain decided she’d make the ideal emotional support apparition.

“Who are you to declare that?”

“The creepy hundred year old man who hallucinates a sixteen year old girl, occasionally in her pajamas, for one.” His voice raised a bit louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few nearby pedestrians. Bucky offered them an awkward smile before ducking back down under the bill of his hat and picking up his pace a bit. She couldn’t argue with his logic so she focused on keeping up until they reached their destination, the produce stand that had the best plums in the city, or so Bucky described.

Zara watched as he spoke Romanian with the merchant, only catching a few words she had learnt over the past few months from their conversations. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Bucky seemed to interact with the man and how it contrasted so starkly to how he acted when he first arrived in the city. Decades of next to no positive human interaction left the soldier awkward and clunky in his exchanges, often stumbling through questions and requests, or simply forgetting them altogether. It had taken a great deal of patience and metaphorical hand holding to build up his confidence and ease his anxiety on the matter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to blend in, in fact he was almost too good at it at times. Over their conversations, she had managed to show him that yes, blending in made him go through the motions of life, which was better than nothing. Yet, the beauty of his life now and the freedom that came with it was that he no longer had to settle for simply surviving and he could instead use it as a chance to learn to live again. It started small, like convincing him to get a pillow and blanket for the mattress on the floor, to which they compromised with a sleeping bag. Soon came two pillows for the couch and a lone floor lamp that he shoved in the corner near his bed for the late nights when night terrors had him scribbling away in his journals. They were minor improvements, in truth, but the progress spoke volumes as Bucky worked on building a place that felt a bit more permanent than his last few hideouts.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even registered that Bucky completed his purchase and had moved to stand at the edge of the sidewalk. She approached him curiously, watching the way he hesitantly analyzed the seemingly anxious newspaper peddler from across the street. It was very clear something was wrong from the way his demeanor had changed.

“Buchanan?” Her voice raised a bit at the end of his name, concern now replacing her curiosity as he began to make his way to the stand. He either didn’t hear her--which she found unlikely--or he simply opted to ignore her as he picked up the paper, ocean blue eyes scanning over the headline. The color seemed to drain from both of their faces as they took the accusation in, not having to speak to know what it meant.

Bucky would have to pick up his life, yet again, and run. Find a new country, new home, and start the process all over again. The ex-assassin hardly seemed surprised at the realization, as there is no rest for the wicked.

[Boston, Massachusetts -- 2016]

Zara made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, an imaginary version of Bucky trailing along behind her. She let her book bag drop to the floor once she entered the room, stepping out of her shoes before flopping down onto the soft, sunflower themed duvet of her bed. A look of weightlessness overtook her features as she let the events of the day settle in. Today she would graduate with a PhD in Biomedical Engineering from MIT, top of her class. It was the culmination of years of pouring herself over every textbook her parent’s provided, testing out and early graduations. At only sixteen, Zara would join the ranks of some of the youngest individuals to ever receive a doctoral degree. It truly seemed unreal to her.

Emerald eyes drifted to where Bucky sat at her desk, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“I wish you could be there tomorrow,” Zara commented, propping herself up on her elbows as her fingers pulled at the frayed threads on the yellow quilt folded at the end of her bed.

A smile teased the corner of Bucky’s lips as he leaned back against her swivel chair, long hair swaying as he tilted his head to the left to look at her. “I will be there, maybe not in person, but I’ll be there cheering right along with everyone else,’ he assured.

“It’s not the same and you know it, Buchanan.”

“I know. Just try to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is your day, you’ve more than earned it.”

Zara nodded, though her disappointment was still evident. On the average day, Bucky’s seemingly invisible presence to everyone else but her came in handy. As she was willing to bet her parents wouldn’t be too keen on the amount of time she spent alone with the grown man, let alone if they knew who he was. The public’s perception of James Buchanan Barnes, who she had quickly identified him as, was low to say the very least. Though it was days like this that she found herself wishing the most that he could truly exist in her life outside of her mind.

She could never quite pinpoint why she began hallucinating him two years prior. Though, the time before and after her fourteenth birthday had flown by in a post traumatic daze so it was even more difficult to analyze. The aftermath of four older boys assaulting her in her own bedroom left her wishing to repress that portion of her life altogether. Zara squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the ghost of their hands on her body. Grabbing, groping, pulling and tearing at clothes. She had hardly seen them since their attack but her mind was still trapped in the room with them.The feeling took her back to meeting Bucky that night, or more so the Winter Soldier, as he appeared at that time.

Upon entering her room, Zara failed to notice the masked man sitting silently in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the small lamp on her bedside stand. When she caught a glimpse of the figure, her body jumped to it’s fight response, just as it had an hour or so before. The young girl grabbed the closest thing she could find, a textbook on advanced chemistry, and held onto it tightly before turning to face the intruder.

“You need to leave,” she ordered, her voice wavering at the end of the demand. Her green eyes only met a pair of dark glasses securely strapped to his face. She couldn’t make out any facial features to identify him by, as all but his forehead and hair was covered.

It wasn’t just his silence that sent an unnerved shiver down her spine. It was his demeanor, cold and nearly unresponsive to her presence and defensive stance. Had his head not briefly turned her way when she started to speak, she’d question if he even heard her at all.

A large gun, likely a rifle from what she could tell, was resting across his lap. His hands weren’t actively gripping it, but something told her he could take aim in the time it took her to breathe her next breath. A variety of handguns and knives were also visible from the holsters adorning his thighs. If he had this many weapons visible, Zara could only imagine how many he had stashed under his tactical vest and heavy boots.

Her green eyes followed where she believed his gaze had drifted. He seemed laser focused on the strip of light just barely visible from under her door as a roar of laughter could be heard from just outside. His hand moved to rest just over the barrel of his gun. The young girl analyzed him for another moment before lowering the textbook, while still keeping it tightly in her hands.

“Will you at least tell me why you’re here?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, one that vocalized all of the fear she had been trying to hide. She was met with more silence, which quickly became deafening to her. She was afraid to make a move to get his attention again, naturally unsure of how he would react. Yet, at the same time she couldn’t relax, not with him in her space.

After another few moments of no response, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he wasn’t actually there. She had just been through something horribly traumatic and it was entirely possible that this was her brain's way of coping with the stress and fear. That it had conjured some masked figure to sit at her bedroom door and keep all the bad away.

She knew how best to test her theory, but she recognized the risk that came with it as she picked up a neon pink highlighter that she had been using earlier that night. She gripped it for a moment while weighing her options, throwing it across the room only seconds later. She didn’t put too much force behind it, hoping that if it gently came into contact, he’d be less likely to be angry. The consideration meant very little as the marker passed straight through the man and knocked against the wall before falling to the floor. She watched as it rolled across the floor and disappeared underneath her nearby dresser, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. On one hand, he wasn’t real and couldn’t hurt her. On the other, she was truly alone and definitely going crazy.

“This is fine,” Zara tried to reassure herself with very little luck.

She was pulled back from her thoughts as Bucky called her name for the third time, snapping her back to reality. Their eyes connected for a moment as she attempted to ground herself again, focusing on the small changes between how he was now versus then.

He had since lost the mask and goggles, she remembered him removing them a month or so after he first appeared. His current casual attire contrasted starkly with the hard kevlar of the tactical vest she first met him in. His features were more at ease now, no longer reflecting the fear that she could only compare to an animal in captivity. While she wasn’t fond of the comparison, following what she had learned of the real James Barnes, it wasn’t entirely far off.

As if the world was reading her mind, she faintly heard the voice of the local news anchor from the living room directly below her bedroom. Her features scrunched as she focused in on hearing the report, only catching snippets here and there. The words explosion and Sokovia Accords were most of what she could make out along with what she could’ve sworn was the suspect’s name, James Buchanan Barnes.

Before Zara could even question it further, she found herself racing down the main staircase of their suburban home, sock clad feet skidding to a halt on the polished dark oak flooring. Her eyes widened as she took in the security camera footage that was believed to place Bucky near the scene of the crime. Despite having no real proof, something deep within her gut screamed that it wasn’t true. She knew him, maybe not the real version, but he’d never do that.

Imaginary Bucky followed her into the living room a minute later, his pace slow and relaxed in comparison as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Being held responsible for the most recent atrocity was honestly just beginning to feel like the average Tuesday to him. More than anything, it was Zara’s reaction that took him the most by surprise. Her unwavering faith and loyalty was unexpected and as he believed, undeserved.

He had committed unspeakable acts over the years and this was likely far from the worst he was accused of. Sure, they had grown close in the two years since he first appeared and he imagined that made it easier for her to block out the rest of the stories, since she knew at least some version of the person in question.

Zara was good, in every sense of the word. Of course she had flaws, but who didn’t, especially at sixteen. But he saw the way that she looked at the world with love and curiosity despite the violence and violations she had experienced. It was a strength of character that he truly wished he could grow to embody. Bucky couldn’t help but find it funny that he was left looking up to a teenager who hadn’t even passed her driver’s test yet; but she honestly had more morals and heart than most of the adults he had met in his life. All of those facts being true is what made her belief in his innocence all the more confusing.

His eyes fell to her father, Gabriel, as he sat on the couch to take in the evening news. The man’s head shook in what seemed to be disappointment, or maybe it was anger, Bucky honestly couldn’t be sure anymore. They had never spoken, as Bucky’s intangible form made communication with anyone other than Zara impossible, but he knew Gabriel was a black and white kind of person. He couldn’t help but accept that to anyone who didn’t know him, the evidence would be damning.

“They need to just put him down while they have the chance,” Gabriel scoffed, speaking to no one in particular while switching the flatscreen off before they could finish the broadcast.

“He’s not a wild animal to be euthanized.” Zara’s expression twisted in disgust at her father’s casual nature. “He’s a human being. If he's guilty, and that’s a really big if with how blurry that security footage is, he deserves a trial just like anyone else!”

Gabe turned to look over the back of the couch, clearly displeased that she would defend the man. “I’m in no mood to debate with you, Ziarah.” He rose from his seat and dropped the remote onto the foot stool before leaving towards his study.

Zara watched him leave, her eye practically twitching with each step he took. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to make him see that there were likely more sides to the story than they were seeing but she knew that it was useless. Her father rarely took her opinions or beliefs to heart on things that actually mattered to him, a topic like this would truly be a lost cause.

She looked up at Bucky as he shook his head lightly, letting her tension fade away as she accepted that it was pointless. “It’s okay, Zar,” Bucky assured, his small smile wiping away any lingering doubts she had. “There are more important battles to pick with him. This isn’t a hill worth dying on.”

Zara would’ve liked to argue that defending her friend was more than a worthy cause but she nodded nonetheless.

“How about we go find your mom. I bet she’s already working on the cake for your graduation and knowing you, you can convince her to let you lick the spoon.” His tone was playful as he coaxed her into motion, the promise of sweets and a friendly face luring her into the kitchen behind him.

Hanna was busy mixing away the different batters she would need for the next tier, the sweet aroma of baked goods filling the air. She hummed lightly as she worked, creating her own personal mix of her favorite 80’s songs together in a unique medley. Her green eyes moved to the doorway as she heard Zara walk in, a bright smile overtook her features as she set down her mixing bowl.

“There’s my little scholar,” she praised, moving around the kitchen island to take her daughter into her arms. Her warm embrace was a welcomed escape as Zara melted.

“Momma,” Zara grumbled as her mother placed a series of kisses on her forehead. “I thought you stopped doing that since I was a baby.” While Zara whined, deep down she always loved her mother’s open displays of affection. Not that she was willing to admit it.

“That’s the beauty of you always being my baby. You’re never too old for me to embarrass you. Just be grateful that I’ve opted to do it now instead of at your party.” The woman grinned away as she moved back to her work.

Zara honestly couldn’t argue with the logic as she found a seat on one of the tall bar stools. She quickly lost herself in the pleasant conversion with her mother, happily opting to clean the excess batter and frosting off of the bowls and mixing spoons like the helpful child she was. Imaginary Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching the women as they fell into the usual banter and discussion. After they finished her conversation she quickly grabbed a snack and made her way towards the door.

“I believe you’re forgetting something,” Hanna reminded, sending Zara a knowing look.

She huffed lightly before turning on her heels to grab her blood testing and insulin kit, waving it at her mother knowingly. She quickly turned back around and left the kitchen, making her way back upstairs.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to follow after her, stopping only when he saw Zara staring in her old room, which now housed her older brother Daniel. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over the events that more often than not had her scurrying past said room without acknowledging it. It was easier to just pretend it didn’t exist.

A few more moments passed before Zara pulled herself back from the darker parts of her mind, focusing in on everything else in her life that was good and worth celebrating. She had known pain and a time in her life where she often considered if it would’ve been easier to just fade away, but she had made it through to the other side. She had a lot going for her now and that was enough to push her feet forward again.

Chapter 2

[duskyskz]

- Erasure - 1

Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

With washed out, dyed pastel hair, sea salt and acrylic clinging to his jeans, Hwang Hyunjin expected to find himself many places that night. A jail holding cell. Under the abandoned train station bridge. Maybe even his own bedroom.

Your living room wasn't on the list.

Warnings - Some angst in later chapters, suggestive/smut, minor character death mentions, Hyunjin is an eboy and a little angsty, Changbin is doing his best as a big brother, slow burn (?)

A/N - Finally! Sorry for the delays, my head just hasn’t been with me this week;; I hope you enjoy this series as much as I am excited to write it. 

***

The steady buzzing of your speakers fills the living room as you watched Changbin scroll through the Netflix home page. Both of you settle deep into the sofa, balancing a bowl of popcorn and chocolate between your knees. 

“Endgame? Homecoming, Nightmare on Elm Street?” Binnie flicks through the suggestions, and you shake your head in distaste. “I'm not watching that octopus documentary again!”

“You only hated it because you cried at the end.”

“She died! He had to look after her little babies! Your heart is too cold, too far gone for that level of compassion.” The last part of your brother's grumbles are cut off when you throw a burnt kernel at his forehead, barely missing his ear. 

There’s nobody else home. Nobody else ever comes home, either. It's been just you and Changbin for a while, and it's not all that terrible. He’s a few years older than you, having graduated last summer and now undertaking an apprenticeship at the village police station. It doesn't pay a stellar amount, but Changbin reassures you once he passes the trainee exams he’ll treat you to a new pair of winter boots and you can finally quit the ice cream parlour to focus on college. You tell him that even if he wins the lottery tomorrow, you'll work your own job. For all the support your elder brother gives you, you like having your own thing. It makes you feel a little more involved, a little more even than jsit washing the dishes and doing his laundry on days he’s too tired to move. 

The Thursday evening is reserved for you both, to catch up on the hours together you miss during the week when Changbin doesn't get back till you're fast asleep and you don't have the chance to say good morning. 

He’s been doing that a lot more recently. 

Sighing into his coffee, shaking his head at nobody in particular. It's easy to notice the signs of stress and overwork in his face, sunken and tired even on the weekends when he finishes early. 

“Do you wanna finish Teen Wolf?” The softness in his voice when he addresses you is the same, though. “We have three episodes left of this season, if you wanna binge.”

“Sure.” You want to ask him about the circles under his eyes. What’s got him coming home later and later because nothing ever happens in this town. “I'm still waiting on Derek’s redemption arc.”

You're twenty minutes into the episode when a vibration from your coffee table catches your attention. You glance at Changbin, but he ignores his ringtone, flipping it to silent.

It rings again, no music, but harsh vibrations drumming against the polished wood. 

And again.

Knowing he’s not picking up to make a point of it, you pause the show, nodding at the mobile he’s avoiding glancing at. “Go on. Pick up, it might be an emergency.”

“If it's an emergency they don't need an intern there.” Despite his words, Changbin shifts his position and you know he’s growing hesitant. 

“If it's an emergency all the more reason for you to be there and learn.” You state with more force behind your tone. “Why have your grades been dropping? You're coming home so late but your exams keep getting delayed -”

“My grades are fine!” Changbin never snaps at you, but the frustration in his voice is evident. “I'm fine. There's just - Just one case we're working on and I'm nearly there, I just need time.”

You shut your mouth, letting him speak.

“There’s this kid who keeps tagging the beach houses on Dawning Lane, and that shit  was expensive to put up last year. Some stupid, bored child that thinks a few cans of spraypaint and lung cancer are a good excuse for your adolescence. He’s not even that good… Just scribbles.”

His lips pout in a frustrated whine at the last phrase, and you know he’s more frustrated at the situation than he is at you or himself.

A beat of silence, interrupted by another ringtone - you almost reach for it yourself to check the caller ID and force him to pick up, before Changbin’s arm shoots out past you to snatch the device, slinking out the door and into the hallway. 

You aren't surprised when a few moments later, your brother’s head pokes nervously out the door frame - He's already got his coat on, waving his phone at you as an awkward goodbye. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, y/n.”

“Yeah, see ya.” You salute back, smiling to ease the tension in his shoulders, and it works a minimum. You won’t see him till the late evening at best.

The door clicks shut as soon as he turns around, leaving you surrounded by popcorn and empty space. You really aren't surprised - but it'd be pointless to deny you weren't hurt by another night alone with Teen Wolf playing idly through your TV speakers. Cold popcorn only did so much to soothe your heart, and the distance wedging itself recently between your sibling bond was hard to brush over, between missed calls and texts too often left unanswered. 

You just really miss your big brother.

 You commit yourself to Stiles Stilinsky instead, sighing into the blanket around your shoulders. Autumn rolls in quick by the seaside, making your calves prickle with goosebumps. It's nearing 11pm, you realise, picking up the -

Thump!

Your fingers freeze, hovering over the TV remote. Changbin wouldn’t be back yet, he never comes home the same night he leaves. 

“Bin?” You try it anyway, calling tentatively into the hallway. It’s still entirely black, void of disruption.

Clang!

That definitely came from your kitchen.

Armed with a half empty popcorn bowl and nerves of steel, you tiptoe into the other room. There’s a lump of something or someone crouched behind the dining table, and your grip around the glass dish tightens marginally despite the quivering of your knees, fumbling for the lightswitch without taking your eyes off the rising dark mass as it straightens its back. 

“S-Stay down! I have corn and I know how to use it!” You don’t have a fully formed plan yet, but you’re sure the sharp kernels will be of some importance. Fluorescent white light floods the kitchen, momentarily blinding both you and the intruder who now stands at full height. A steady 12 inches above you. 

“Ouch! Calm down, I’m not going to rob you!” He says, sounding almost exasperated at your defense of your own property. He still has his hands raised in defense, keeping the table between himself and you, and you’re grateful he hasn’t tried to knock your legs out from under you, yet. “I’m not here to steal your stuff.”

“What are you here for, then?” You lower the popcorn bowl, but don’t let it fall out of your grasp. He doesn’t seem dangerous - He doesn’t seem like he could manage clambering through the window you always leave ajar either, but here he clearly is. There’s something sticky and pink in his blonde hair, stains following down his shoulder blades all the way down the cuffs of his jeans. If anything, he looks...a little lost.

“It’s the address on the post-it note.” Your confusion must have been plainly obvious, because the boy elaborates, pulling a crumpled neon-green paper from his jacket. “The post-it note that man gave me. That’s what Changbin gave me.”

Perhaps you lack self preservation instincts, but there’s an uncertain vibration in his voice that makes you give up your weapon and attitude. 

“You know my brother?” 

“He told me if I really need to go somewhere, I can come here.” You watch slim fingers tug at the sleeves of his jacket as he measures with a weight akin to a glare. “He didn’t tell me it was his house, or that somebody else was living here.” 

Bold of him to accuse you of ruining his night plans. 

It really did only click in your head when you looked closer at his tangled hair, dried paint clumping it together at the ends of bleached blonde strands. The  artistic menace haunting your sea-side town was standing right on your tiled kitchen floor, and he looked downright miserable. 

And Changbin had invited him. 

Biting down the discomfort at realising how little Changbin had been telling you recently,  you set the popcorn down on the table, you take in the threat currently three feet before you. A tall, lanky boy, with odd shoelaces and a sharpie sticking out of his trouser pocket. His hair hasn’t been cut in a while, and probably brushed either - it’d be generous to say he ran more than a stressed hand through it anytime recently. Though chapped, his full lips and wide eyes made him look far too innocent for his own good, and you blamed your soft heart for finding the boy kinda cute. 

He did have a leaf stuck above his ear, though. 

You almost reached up to remove it.

“Do you wanna watch Teen Wolf?”  You break the quiet that settled, already shuffling your feet out into the living room. You sincerely hoped he’d follow. You weren’t sure what you could do apart from leaving him standing on cold tile, and he already looked freezing from the night chill. 

Luckily for you, with a hesitant step, your impromptu companion takes after you to the couch where your Netflix and remove still await instruction. Changbin might grumble at you tomorrow at finishing the season without him, but you needed something to lure the boy into comfort. 

“I’m y/n, by the way.” You mention. The boy sits stiffly, clasping his hands in his lap with parted lips, avoiding the decorative pillows. 

“Hyunjin.” Now that he’s actually inside your house, Hyunjin’s confidence seems to have evaporated. The thrill of the break-in, if you can even call is that, has worn off, giving way to the nerves. He’s suddenly too conscious of the paint on his clothes, of sandy shoes still on his feet, of the smudges still on his cheeks. Should he take his jacket off? Or wipe his shoes? 

You press resume, watching him relax after a few minutes as his brain finally has something else to focus on to let his worries ease. Hyunjin doesn't seem to mind you already being halfway through the episode, and you let yourself admit it’s nice having someone around this late at night. 

“How do you know Changbin?” You ask while the topic is still fresh.

“I don’t.” Hyunjin bumps his knees together, fiddling with a loose string on his jeans as he shrugs. “I don’t really know him, he just...saw me around a few times, and I guess he figured I could use a place to crash. So he gave me your address.”

“You’re the mystery kid painting the beach houses, right? On Dawning Lane.” 

At the accusation, Hyunjin’s lips part, flipping to face you with wide, blinking eyes., knowing he’s in no place to try and deny it. You blink back, observing his reactions, in case he suddenly changes his mind about staying. “Are you gonna turn me in?...” 

“No.” You shake your head after a moment of thought, and he visibly untenses. “For whatever reason Changbin didn’t, so I won’t either. If he trusts you then I do too.” 

You’ll never know if it was the murmurs of the TV, or if Hyunjin did whisper a thank you, and you won’t ask. There’s a lot of things you do want to ask, but a tug in your heart tells you now is not the time. Hyunjin looks exhausted, eyes drooping with every slow blink as he does his best to focus on the screen, hands previously tugging at his jeans now still and flat on his lap, slouched forward as if any moment he’ll drift off sitting on your pillows. Flurries of fluorescent light flicker on his cheeks, over barely scrubbed paint smudges and faint cuts from running too fast, you guess. In the delicate, dimmed light of your floor lamp, it’s hard to imagine Hyunjin as a bad kid. Prickly, maybe. On edge is a better word for it, tension clinging to his shoulders like stubborn dust bunnies. Curse your naive little heart, you tell yourself, building up your courage to speak.

“Hyunjin?” He hums in response, straightening his back. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

All you’ve been taught in life sent alarm bells through your skull when you asked a complete stranger (who just two hours ago, broke in through your kitchen window) to sleep in your living room overnight, but Hyunjin didn’t feel  like a stranger. Changbin trusted him enough to lead him right to your house, so that must count for something, right? And no matter how much you tried to keep your guard up around the boy, watching him struggle to stay upright instead of letting his tall, lanky body fall backward and rest comfortably only made you worry a little about him, not the other way around. 

Well, he did say he’s not going to rob you. 

“You can sleep on the couch if you want, I’ll bring you some blankets.” You prompt him again when he doesn’t respond. “Changbin won’t be back for a while still.” 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” There’s a lilt of doubt in his voice, but he sincerely hopes you’re serious. This couch is warmer than anything he’s slept on in months and he really doesn’t want to crawl outside again with the rain pattering against your roof. 

“Sure, you haven’t tried to stab me yet.” You shrug, getting up to fetch a duvet and looking him over.

“Ah, you probably want to wash your hair from all...that,” Hyunjin’s hand flies to his hair, patting out the tangles as if it’s the first time he’s noticed them. “You can use the bathroom upstairs, there’s towels by the shower already.”

He nods, following your directions with a ‘thank you’. Once his footsteps disappear up the landing, you set about pulling out the couch into a flatbed, rearranging the pillows at its base. Lugging the duvet down from Changbin’s room had been a feat, but you’re determined to make the space welcoming. Satisfied with the cushioned bundle you created, you run back upstairs. 

You invade your brother’s room for the second time that day, tugging open his drawers in search for something acceptably pijama-like. 

“Hyunjin?” You knock tentatively on the bathroom door as the shower head turns off and the shuffling ceases. “I’m leaving some clothes for you to change into outside, okay? Come downstairs when you’re ready.”

You scroll through your timeline as you wait, catching up on the last few hours’ events from your friends until a shuffling to your left prompts you to raise your head. 

Your brother’s sweats hang a little loosely around Hyunjin’s hips, ending just above his ankles, bare feet sliding over the wooden floor of your living room, sinking into the rug as he steps closer to where you sit. His own clothing cradled in his arms close to his chest, you can’t stop your thoughts drifting momentarily to the damp mess of sunshine coloured hair. With his jacket on earlier, it was hard to make out his build under layers of fabric, but now it’s proving a challenge to not focus on the lines of his arms or the curves of his large hands gripping his clothes. Luckily for your dignity, your nerves of steel allow you to drag your gaze away from the collarbones peeking out from under thin white cotton higher to meet his eyes instead and find your voice again.

“I brought down some pillows for you, these are a bit too hard to sleep on.” You note, pointing to the decorative cushions you moved onto the lounge chair. “My room is right opposite the bathroom if you need anything, I’m a light sleeper.” 

“M���okay.” Hyunjin towers above you, yet you’ve never seen a boy so dainty. There really is no other way to describe the delicate line of his nose bridge or the rosy tint of his lips when his tongue pokes out to lick them as he mulls over your words, settling down on the makeshift bed. 

The proximity now feels different than the air between you when Teen Wolf still blared through your speakers, warm quiet heavy on your tongue with dim golden glow tumbling over his cheekbones that’s too much for your heart to take unprepared.

“Goodnight then!” You bounce up from the couch waving Hyunjin a quick goodbye, but a soft hand wrapping around your wrist pauses you. 

“Wait,” Hyunjin brushes his thumb over your palm softly, and you hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps on your skin at the contact. “Thanks for not kicking me out...or calling the police. Y’know, as most people would for a break in.” 

The smile he flashes you is almost teasing, but you can tell he means the words sincerely. You lay your other hand on top of his, patting in what you hope is a reassuring motion.

“Sure, Jinnie. It’s okay.”