#it's him refusing to just put fucking milk and honey in his tea but instead drinking it like shots

[tortoise-teapot]

lost elf theme dark solas theme... there needs to be a third solas song there is a piece missing. where is his whimsy. anyway i've filled in the gap with this

[piratesfromspace]

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw.  Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are. 

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

[reinerispretty]

beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt7

hi and welcome to another chapter!!! thank u very much for reading :D i hope u enjoyed the last one as much as i did!! this chapter is a little shorter than the rest, but i had to get through it to be able to get to the good stuff :) 

pt1

pt6

pt8

During the night, when the moon was high, she quietly made her way to Yue’s room to look through it. She took only three things: Yue’s fluffiest purple coat, the portrait (Y/N) had given to her on her birthday, and the small wooden fish that Sokka had carved for her.

(Y/N) rocked back and forth on her feet with the motion of the waves. She had been on many boats before, but none so far out at sea. The air was crisp and salty and the sea spray that splashed up made her face feel sticky. This could be another kind of life that she would enjoy, she thought. There was something about the ocean that seemed so freeing to her. She wondered if all waterbenders felt that way.

She watched as they floated past massive icebergs three times as tall as their ship. She had learned once that icebergs were even bigger on the underside, like massive mountains, but she didn’t exactly want to find out for herself.

After Hahn’s visit to the palace, more suitors started lining up outside of the heavy wooden doors. She figured that they thought with Hahn out of the way, they might actually have a shot at getting within the Chief’s good graces. She had refused each and every one of them and provided no explanation why. Some accepted defeat gracefully, while others tried their best to argue with her. And despite living in the coldest place on earth, (Y/N) was extremely hotheaded. She shot back at their arguments with arguments of her own, daring each man that fought to challenge her to an actual duel. This had caused rumors to float around the city about her.

In her healing lessons, she heard girls whispering about how cold-hearted the princess must be to turn down so many sweet boys. The servants talked about her when she wasn’t near and wondered how a sweet girl like Yue could ever have such a disagreeable sister as (Y/N). The idea of staying in a tribe that would never fully accept her struck fear into every inch of her body. It was in everyone’s best interest that she left.

So when Sokka had approached her after her healing lessons one day and informed her that she needed to pack because they would be leaving the very next morning, (Y/N) had not hesitated. She gathered a pack of all of her most important items, like clothes, shoes, brushes, and money. She had thought about packing her paint supplies, but she figured they would be too heavy to carry from city to city. She wrapped them gently in a cloth scarf and slid them underneath her bed. Maybe one day she would visit her parents and be able to take them with her.

During the night, when the moon was high, she quietly made her way to Yue’s room to look through it. She took only three things: Yue’s fluffiest purple coat, the portrait (Y/N) had given to her on her birthday, and the small wooden fish that Sokka had carved for her. She had seen it many times, lying on Yue’s dresser, and figured that he might want it back. She had shoved each of these things deep into her pack so they wouldn’t fall out.

(Y/N) had spent the remainder of the night lying in wait for the sun to rise over the horizon. She only had a few moments to escape the palace before the servants awoke, so she had padded through the icy halls and made her way to her parents’ room. They both slept soundly as the sun barely filtered in through the windows. She kissed the both of them on their foreheads and left her goodbye note on their dresser. Then, as quietly as she could, she had crawled out of the lowest windows of the palace and fell on her back into the snow. She had held in her groan of pain and instead ran directly for the docks to wait for the others.

Now, she stood on Master Pakku’s ship as it headed for the Southern Water Tribe. Aang prepared Appa for their impending flight, while both Sokka and Katara gave Pakku a list of things to share with their grandmother. (Y/N) leaned over the edge of the railing and watched the waves as they crashed against the boat. She waterbended a small sliver of ocean water up so that it could just barely touch her fingers and smiled at its coolness.

“Are you ready?” Katara asked as she appeared at her side. (Y/N) nodded and picked up her bag from the ground. She gave Master Pakku a curt nod.

“Wait, Princess,” He called to her. She turned to face him.

“It’s just (Y/N) now.” Pakku nodded.

“Your father told me to give you this.” He placed a light blue velvet bag in her hands. When she opened it, she found more gold, silver, and copper pieces than she had ever seen in her lifetime. (Y/N) looked up at Pakku, her eyes wide with shock.

“He knew I’d be leaving?”

“I think he always knew you would leave, one day,” Pakku said with a small smile. (Y/N) swallowed and slipped the bag into her pocket.

“Thank you,” she said. She walked over to her friends, where Katara helped her onto Appa’s saddle. As soon as everyone was seated, Aang shouted, “Yip yip,” and Appa soared into the air. (Y/N) watched as the only place she had ever known shrunk further and further into the horizon. For the first time since her sister had died, she felt happy.

---

There were a lot of things she had never done, and setting up tents to sleep on the cool, hard ground was near the top of that list. But she had been asked by Katara to set up their tents and she wasn’t going to refuse! She was part of a team now, so she had to do her fair share of the work. How hard could setting up tents be?

As it turned out, very hard. Just as she had set up one tent and moved onto the next, the first tent would collapse behind her. After an hour, she thought she had successfully set up four tents, only to watch them crumble to the ground. (Y/N) felt like she could nearly tear her hair out from frustration. 

How could she be a part of this team if she couldn’t even put up a tent? She felt absolutely useless. Maybe coming with the Avatar and his friends hadn’t been a good idea after all. She wasn’t properly equipped for life outside of the North Pole, and it was so hot! She had never felt heat like this before and it was nearly unbearable! She wasn’t sure how Sokka and Katara put up with it!

Aang walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Here, let me help!” 

(Y/N) gave him a small smile of gratefulness as he showed her how to set up the tents. “It was tricky at first for me, too,” Aang reassured her as he dug the poles into the ground. “But it’s all about making sure you have a good foundation. Here, try on that one.” 

(Y/N) walked over to the other tent and tried her best to replicate Aang’s movement. The pole successfully went into the ground, and she smiled up at Aang. “Thank you!” She said excitedly. 

“No problem! We can split the rest of the work.” The two swiftly set up the tents and (Y/N) clasped her hands together, smiling proudly at the tents. It was a small and ridiculous thing to be proud of, but she had never accomplished anything like this at home. 

She helped Katara catch fish for dinner by waterbending them from the river and into the basket. (Y/N) watched intensely as Katara cooked stew for them. She had always had servants in the palace to make her food for her, so she was intrigued at the mix of herbs and spices Katara was putting into her concoction. By the time it had finished cooking, it smelled lovely, and (Y/N’s) stomach rumbled from starvation.

She devoured her dinner as they sat around the campfire and discussed their plans for tomorrow. “We’re heading to the Earth Kingdom,” Sokka explained. “There, we’ll be escorted to King Bumi, who will teach Aang earthbending.” 

“You’re going to love Bumi,” Aang said to (Y/N). 

“I’m not so sure,” Katara interjected. “Bumi is...a lot.” 

“He encased Katara and I into rocks the last time we saw him.” Sokka scooped a spoonful of stew into his mouth. (Y/N’s) eyes widened in shock and she looked frantically at Aang. 

“It was rock candy,” Aang said, as if that made the situation any better. (Y/N) looked back down at her stew. 

“Maybe I regret coming with you guys just a little bit,” She said, and while she wasn’t necessarily trying to be funny, the rest of her team laughed. 

---

Tag List!

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[sunmoonandeddie]

and grace, my fears relieved

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,623

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  A hospital isn’t the worst place to meet someone, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, both steve and the reader have covid-19, but neither die

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

The virus started out inconspicuously enough, with just a few cases here and there that everyone assumed would be quarantined and taken care of, but Steve was paranoid.  How could he not be?

He’d been a sick kid.  Real sick.  And then when he was a teenager, he got some revolutionary kind of treatment for his heart and lungs and it was like his entire body had been kickstarted.  He shot up a foot taller and gained over a hundred pounds.

He had the stretch marks to prove it.

Granted, he had to work a little to gain as much as he did.  After the treatment, the weight gaining workouts and diet plans suddenly worked.  He looked… normal.  And then he buffed up.  Real big.

It came in handy pretty often with his job.  He had become a firefighter, and carrying people out of burning buildings was often part of the job.

Fires still happened in a quarantine.  If anything, they happened more frequently because people were home and the number one cause of house fires was unattended cooking.  A parent could be cooking any meal of the day and then their kid distracts them and boom.  Fire.

So he worked overtime, day in and day out.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.  He was scared shitless.

It was like his ma used to say, back when she was alive, “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you run away.  You fight back for what’s right.”

Sarah Rogers had been a lot smarter than people assumed.  She was a former socialite, and an Irish Catholic one at that.  Her parents had an absolute conniption when she’d fallen in love with a former convict.  His dad had been in and out of jail for petty things.

It certainly hadn’t been her choice to fall in love with him.  But she had told him that if he didn’t get his act together, she wasn’t going to be with him.

He’d straightened himself up and become an outstanding citizen.

But that hadn’t stopped her family from disowning her.  Once she refused to break up with him, she was out.  Out of their house, out of their wills, everything.

She went from wearing Valentino and Chanel to items picked out at Goodwill.

But Steve’s parents had loved him more than anything.

He’d become a firefighter just like his dad.  He wanted to help people just like him, and well… That’s what he was doing now.

Or had been, until his throat had started to hurt.  And when it hadn’t let up three days later, even after a plethora of cough drops and teas, he went to the hospital.

It had only been about a month since it really started and the first dozen cases showed up in New York City.  He’d been cautious—overly cautious, some might say—but he still had to go to work.  And who knows how many people he’d come into contact with that had the virus?

It was still early days.  He was able to get the test, and for that, he was lucky.

But then he had to go home and wait.

And then he got the call.  He had to immediately go back to the hospital to be quarantined.  He’d been put in a hospital room that was usually used as a private room in the Emergency Room—a trauma room, they called it.  Trauma Room 2.

All of their other hospital rooms were taken.  It was a lot worse than anyone had let on.

He was there for about twenty minutes before you got there, clearly terrified and holding a duffel bag full of clothes so you wouldn’t just have to wear the scratchy ass hospital gowns.

He’d only thought to bring two different pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts, as well as his usual pairs of jeans.

But he was quickly finding that those weren’t too comfortable to wear while being quarantined.

Maybe he’d be able to convince someone to run down to the hospital gift shop to grab him something to wear.  Some Brooklyn Hospital sweats or something.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his tablet, looking for the source of the voice.  God, he was so tired.  And everything hurt.  There was only so much that honey could do for his voice.

“Hey!  Over here!”  The voice broke off into a coughing fit, and it sounded nasty.  Real nasty.  The kind of coughing that hacks up a lung.

He gets up out of his bed with a grunt, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  And not the big, strong shoulders he had no.  The weak little skinny ones he had before.  The ones where he could barely lift a gallon of milk in each hand without getting overworked.

You’re sitting on the ground, taking deep breaths as you try to catch your breath.  “Hey,” you said with a weak smile.  “You got any cough drops?  I ran out and my nurse said she was gonna try to find me more two hours ago.”

There’s no medicine available to treat the virus.  So they just treat the symptoms.

And there’s a severe shortage of cough medicine amongst the patients, but no one really mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked over to his little bedside table.  He opened the drawer, pushing the Bible left inside to the side and grabbing the cough drops.  He grabbed four little individually wrapped pieces before dragging his feet back to the doorway.

He couldn’t lie, sitting down looked really nice right at that moment.  His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest just from walking that short distance.  So he sunk to his knees and leaned back against the doorframe, on the opposite side that you were.

Even though he’d become a firefighter like his dad, he didn’t understand how he could have such a strong faith in God when things like this happened.  Sitting across from you, seeing how tired and run down you looked, he wasn’t sure he believed at all.  How could a God that claimed to be so benevolent and loving do this?  Or at least not step in and do something to stop it?

“Did you bring the goods?” You asked with a bit of a laugh, before breaking off into a deep cough.  “Fuck…”

“Me, too,” he said softly as he grabbed one of the cough drops and tossed it in your direction.

You groaned as it landed behind you, shooting him a glare.  “Do I look like a basketball player to you?”

Steve let out a snort as he grabbed another one.  “Okay, are you ready this time?” He asked, raising a single blonde brow.

“Oh, my god, yes.  Please, just throw it,” you said, but there was a slight grin toying at the corner of your mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked.  This was, quite honestly, the most fun he’d had in ages.

You gave him a look that said you’d kill him if he didn’t give you a cough drop.  “Give me a cough drop before I break down sobbing because it hurts so bad?” You deadpanned.

“Okay, okay.  No need to get dramatic,” he said before he tossed another one.  This one hit your forehead before falling into your lap.

“If you want dramatic, I can turn into a Disney princess right now,” you giggled.  Your voice was weak, but it was hard to muster up the energy to talk sometimes.  Actually, not even sometimes.  Most times.

He watched you for a minute as you worked the wrapper of the cough drop off and popped it into your mouth.  “I’m Steve.  Steve Rogers.”

“Well, hello, Steve.  Steve Rogers,” you said with a giggle, your words slightly distorted from the hard candy in your mouth.  You gave him your name as he tossed you the other two cough drops.

It was nice to have someone to talk to.  It had been four days since the two of you entered the hospital before you had called out to him.  And yeah, he still had his phone.  He texted and called Bucky everyday, but it wasn’t the same as having a face-to-face conversation.

It also kinda helped that you were really, really pretty, even when you were sick and exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t remember anyone that he thought was as pretty as you.

“Stevie?” You said a week and a half later.  It had gotten worse.  So much worse.  You had breathing tubes in, as well as an IV.  His wasn’t as bad.  He just required the IV.

Your nurses tried to get you to stay in your beds, but they soon gave up the fight, choosing instead to help the both of you move your chairs so you could talk to each other, separated by a hallway.

“Yeah, doll face?”  Steve’s heart was hurting as he watched you with sad blue eyes. You were wrapped up in one of his hoodies, drowning in the fabric.  He’d gotten Bucky to run by his apartment and grab him some more comfortable clothes, though he’d had to leave it with a doctor and wasn’t allowed to see him.

They couldn’t risk it. “They’re talking about a second wave,” you said as you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “They wanna start opening things in late May…  But it’s too early…  I…”  You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding against your rib cage.  “I’m so scared, Stevie.”

“Hey…”  There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to walk across the hall and take you into his arms.  “Whatever happens, you’ve got me.  You hear me?  We’re in this together, okay?  And we’re gonna make it.  We’re gonna make it because we gotta.”

That night, he waited for the lights to go out and for the nurses to switch over to the night shift.  A lot of the nurses weren’t as vigilant about taking care of them as the day shift, and he knew he could use that to his advantage.

He knew this was risky, but he had to do it.

Steve carefully got out of bed and dragged his monitor behind him, taking slow measured steps.  He’d waited about an hour after rounds, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming for another three.  It gave him plenty of time.  He tiptoed across the hall after ensuring that the coast was clear, slipping into your room.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the open curtains, a billboard outside flashing.  You looked so peaceful, finally asleep after tossing back and forth for hours.  The blue tones glistened against your soft skin.  You were so quiet that his eyes instinctively flickered over to the heart monitor, listening to the quiet beeping that reassured him that you were alive.

He wobbled the chair over to the side of your bed, being careful not to drag it so it didn’t squeak and alert a nurse or doctor.  When it was finally in place, he sunk into it with a relieved sigh.

Your nose scrunched up at the faint noise.

“Dollface,” he whispered as he gently caressed your cheek, his heart pounding.  This was the first time he’d ever gotten to touch you.  This was the first time he’d been close enough to even attempt it.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him.  “Stevie?”

“Hey…,” he said softly as he traced the patterns of her face.  “It’s me…  Don’t worry…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.  “We’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” he said as he gently scratched your scalp.  “But I’m worried…  And you need me.”

You slowly relaxed back against your pillow as your eyes searched his face.  He liked when you were soft like this.

Well, he liked you all the time, but still.  He liked you most when you were sleepy and relaxed.

“How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, you let your eyes close again.  “I don’t know…  I’ve been better.”  A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes again, trying your best to not melt too far into him.  You didn’t want to fall asleep when this was the first time you’d gotten to feel him near.  “We’re lucky… Our cases aren’t as bad as what others are going through…”

That was true.  Others were on respirators, going into comas.  You two were lucky.

And he was so grateful for that.

“I was thinking…,” he murmured.

A snort.  “That’s never good.”

He gave you a look, raising his brows.  “Apparently people aren’t… completely better even after they’re cleared of the virus…,” he said.  He was watching your face carefully for any sign of a reaction.  “And I live alone.  And you said you have roommates but two of them are considered essential workers, which means there’s a risk of you getting it again…  And I was just thinking…”

“Yeah?...” You probed, sitting up a little.

“We’re gonna need someone to help us… without risking the others that we love, and I just…”  He coughed to clear his throat, his cheeks red.  “I was thinking maybe you could move in for a little while?  Maybe until all this has passed?  And we can… we can…”

Your eyes flickered over his face.  “We can take care of each other?”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat.  “Yeah.  We can take care of each other…  I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine.  And maybe it’s quick, but... ”

Can’t you feel it? He wanted to ask.  Can’t you feel this thing between us?  This connection that was found and fostered in possibly the darkest time of this generation’s existence?  This love that made me think that maybe there is a Grace in the world?  Because otherwise, how the hell would I have been able to find you?

But he knew that was probably a lot, even if the feeling he had when he looked at her was a little bit more than like.

“But… you barely know me.”

“That’s not true,” he breathed out quietly, a finger running down your jaw.  “I know about your family.  I know your first pet’s name and where it’s buried.  I know that you like white Christmas lights over rainbow because you like how it can look like snow if it’s done right.”

Tears were in your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you listened to him.

A smile crept up on his lips.  “I know you like the citrus flavored cough drops, and you have to sleep with a blanket on, even if it’s eighty degrees outside.  I know how much you love cheesy rom-coms and you can only watch horror movies at night because otherwise you’ll have nightmares.”  His forehead rested against hers, your noses brushing.  “I know you.  And I wanna take care of you.  When we get out of here, I don’t want to forget you.  I want to spend my life with you.  And maybe that’s too much too soon and more than a little cheesy, but—”

“Stevie…”  You were the one who leaned in first and pressed your lips to his, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with your peppermint chapstick.  “I’m not easy to take care of.  I’m even more stubborn when I’m feeling helpless like I am now…”

“That’s okay,” he said as he pecked your lips again, letting it linger.  The two of you knew that a nurse could come down the hall any second and catch you, but it didn’t matter.  You were together and you were alive.  “I don’t need easy.  I just need you.”

[revasserium]

Heya! Can I request some domestic headcanons for Kuroo and Ukai Keishin? I loved the ones you've done for Sugamom and Bakageyama!

hq!! reqs currently: closed ; all other reqs: open 

kuroo: 

waking up is a slow affair, the kind of thing that’s full of yawning and groaning, the edges of your smiles still sticky with dreams – sometimes he kisses you awake – sometimes, he tells himself that it’s really more for him than it is for you because he can’t help himself. not when you’re sleeping so peacefully in his arms, your lashes fluttering over your eyes like moth wings, delicate and perfect. he kisses you with honey on his tongue and wonders if he kisses you hard enough, if you’d taste the way he wishes he could spend the rest of his life waking up to you like this

sometimes, he teases you about your bedhead, even though he really has no right to talk; you reach up to card your fingers through his hair with a smile as he yawns his way over to the bathroom, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. “looks like something made a nest in your hair,” you say, squealing as his arm shoots out to grab you around the waist, tugging you to him so he can scatter your face in kisses. “stop! your breath smells bad!” “heh… well deal with it – its your punishment for being mean about my hair.” 

there’s not that much coffee, but there’s always tea – green tea and earl’s gray and hojicha. he still insists that it’s cultural heresy to put milk and sugar in tea, so sometimes you’ll do it with your earl’s gray just to tick him off, watch him grumble around the kitchen all morning about ruining the integrity of a perfectly good thing. 

he kisses you anyway, when you lean across the table for a peck, even though he’s still pouting about the tea – and really, how can drink that stuff? 

the first time you take him to bubble tea, he refuses to believe it’s tea. 

a week later, you come home to a mess of tapioca in the kitchen and a very frustrated kuroo cursing at his phone 

“babe? what happened?” “i was trying to make bubble tea.” “and… then the kitchen exploded?” “no – i mean, yeah kinda. but i just don’t get how this tapioca thing works or why it tastes so good.” 

sometimes, he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder when you make him dinner, sometimes he’ll insist on making dinner because he wants to make sure you know that he doesn’t expect you to do all the work around here 

sometimes, he has you for dinner instead 

falling asleep has never been a difficult thing, but with you in his arms, it’s never been easier. it feels like belonging, like you fitting perfectly against him when he curls his body around yours. it feels like perfection – like truth and reason and all that’s ever made sense in the world. 

it feels like happiness. 

keishin: 

he’s outta bed before you every morning – these crops ain’t gonna tend to themselves, y’know. but he always makes sure to put on a pot of tea for you, to keep the toast warm for you in the toaster oven. sometimes you’ll wake up to a note that says in the fields, breakfast is on the table, might have to run to morning practice so if i don’t see you before i go, i’ll see you tonight. those are the times you climb out of bed, no matter how early or how cold, wrap his big sweater around your shoulders and pad into the fields behind his house. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your lips to his cheek. 

“morning.” “morning, doll. sleep well?” “only till you left.” “bullshit, you were totally snoring when i got outta bed.” “shut up.”

on the days when neither of you have anywhere to be, he always tries to cook you breakfast, because as lazy as he pretends to be, as much of a drag as he always complains about it being, he wants to spoil you, and make sure you know that despite all his groaning and moaning, that he loves you. and he’ll always love you more than he can say. 

“i know you do.” “hn. good.” you smile, stealing the smoke from between his fingers and taking a long drag, “guys are physical creatures,” you say, dropping your voice into a terrible imitation of his usual drawl, “we’re bad with words, so… so don’t get mad if i’m bad at saying cheesy shit.” 

he scoffs, snatching the cigarette back to take one last drag before snubbing it out on the window ledge “you’re the fuckin’ worst, y’know that?” you grin, curling up against him, “so i’ve been told.” he smirks, “not enough, clearly.” you lean up to kiss him, “you could always punish me for being so terrible.” he rolls his eyes, “needy.” you grin, “guys are physical creatures right? so -- get physical.” 

and, he does. 

sometimes, you bring baked goods to practice, much to his dismay, because explaining to a bunch of rowdy boys that their coach has a live-in girlfriend is a thing that no grown ass man should ever have to go through, and yet -- here he is. he has to field questions for a whole week about how the pair of you met (at shimada’s store), how long it’s been going on (almost a year now), and, to his utter and complete horror, how often the pair of you ‘do it’, as hinata so delicately put it (more often than any of them would like to know, now get the fuck back to practice or everyone’s running laps). 

“the boys have been asking if they’re gonna be invited to our wedding -- god this is why i didn’t want you to come to practice.” “hm... well, are they?” “are they what?” “gonna be invited to our wedding.” “i mean, sure if you wan -- wait did you just propose?” “did you just say yes?” “did i?” 

you smile, “would you?” “w-would i what?” “say yes.” 

he says yes. 

[sinfulxlusts]

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ for every single one of our ships ( 5 for each )

For each “⭐️��� I get, I’ll write a headcanon about our muses.

Evan&Lia 

Evan actually met Lia through a friend of a friend originally, and she was just so tiny, and looked so innocent, that he had to corrupt her. 

When Lia first told him about her marking kink, he was a bit ‘eeeeh you want me to what?’ before he ended up biting an E to her ass. 

He has a collection of collars she’s free to wear whenever she’s visiting, all play colors with different names, colors or textures. 

The easiest way for Lia to get Evan to cut his meetings short, is to just text him a nude and say she’s in his bed.

Evan gets awfully stressed with work at time, and Lia will often then just come stretch herself over his lap with a kitty tail in and be like “bitch pay attention to me”

Moira&Adrian 

Adrian makes Moira tea with lemon, honey, and a sprinkle of edible sparkle whenever she gets really sad and upset and refuses to leave her nest. 

Moira had a MASSIVE crush on Adrian when they were at high school that she still finds herself giggly about him having chosen her as his omega.

She is TERRIFIED of his family. 

He charmed her mother so awfully bad the first time they met after they all grow up, that Moira’s mother keeps telling her to just have a mating ceremony already.

Adrian keeps “losing” his shirts. They’re really just hiding in her nest. 

Adrian&Belle

The easiest way Adrian knows to cheer up Belle, is to pull her over his lap and spank her until she releases all the tension she’s been holding. 

She has a tattoo of one of his song lyrics on her ribs on the left side. - Sugar verse 

Whenever they fight, it gets loud and ugly and doors slam after. Isabelle has a habit of going for a long walk after before she returns home and gets the ice cream, then goes “okay let’s talk calmly.” with ice cream. Because it keeps her calm.

Whenever anyone tries to fuck with Isabelle, everyone expects Adrian to be the one to take the fight but she’s usually busy kicking the Alpha in the nuts before he can even realize just what happened - Omegaverse 

Isabelle is terrified of the idea of marriage, and if he ever suggests it she might just break into tears and ask why he didn’t instead do something more logical, like a collaring ceremony instead. 

Thomas & Agata 

Thomas the moment he thinks Agata would allow him, is so going to adopt a couple cats at the shelter, and come home with them to surprise her. 

There’s always plenty of flowers in Thomas’ apartment because Agata sneaks in with them before Thomas even gets home. What he hasn’t told her, is that he’s taking meds because he’s allergic to pollen but it makes her so happy when there’s flowers there.  

He always sleeps better when she’s in bed with him, because he holds her like a teddy bear in his arms. 

Whenever Agata cooks for them, he gets all soft and mushy and just holds her close and keeps snuggling her. 

He’s terrified of hurting her because she’s so tiny and fragile and he’s so tall and big. 

Nate&Elizabeth 

They met at an event from the publishing event, where Elizabeth managed to keep complaining that the food was awful so they snuck away and got nuggets instead. 

Neither is really interested in putting labels on what they have, but neither is really involved with anyone else. 

Elizabeth’s sister once asked her if she could get his number for her. She ended up lying and saying Nate had a girlfriend because she got pissy.

Whenever she visits... It’s never just a few hours. It’s always a sleepover. 

They never cook. They always order in. 

Emma&Nate 

Emma thinks Nate is the cutest in the world. 

Emma has a habit of getting real sad if she thinks Nate has left bed for the day before she wakes up, so when he returns with a glass of chocolate milk and some breakfast, she becomes really happy even with tears in her eyes. 

Despite Nate’s inability to tell Emma no, she tends to listen to his no’s really well. Which might be in part why she ‘forgot’ to talk with him before bringing home her chocolate cupcake. 

Nate ended up banning Emma’s stuffies from bed during sex after he accidentally got cum on it and Emma sat in front of the washing machine for the whole cycle with a sad frown. 

Whenever Nate is sick, or feeling a bit under the weather, Emma will make fresh homemade bread, soup, and serve it to him while trying to feed him because ‘but you’re the baby now! I have to take care of you’ though she never succeeds on actually feeding him. But it does make him laugh when she goes all mommy’ish. 

Rosa&Mia&Alexia 

THE TRIAD. Rosa is super happy about her little gay triad and gets super protective whenever anyone tries to insult them.

Mia and Alexia has a habit of each grabbing Rosa whenever anyone tries to insult either of her girlfriends, or them as a whole after that one time she slapped a guy and they all got thrown out of the club. 

Alexia comes home a bit too often to Mia and Rosa emptying the fridge of whatever is tasty that doesn’t need to be cooked. 

Alexia knows better than to trust Rosa to go grocery shopping alone, after she sent her to go get some veggies and Rosa came home with the veggies... But also 3 chocolates, another box of sugary cereal and a lack of fruits. 

Rosa and Mia regularly exchange clothes, but they can’t borrow Alexia’s clothes because they don’t have quite as big boobs and it looks strange. 

[shewhowantsmouseears]

wizards of mickey magicstone

Well the “aaaaays” have it. Before I begin, a little bit about Wizards of Mickey for those who are wondering what the hell that is and that is essential to understanding what I thought up.

Short version is, a short-lived Disney series about a fantasy AU where everyone's a wizard. Everyone's a wizard, EVERYONE, pluto's got magic, fuck even the dragons were wizards. Anyway, Magica and two original characters for the comic were recurring villains – Neraja, the hot tall one, who's boyfriend got turned into a beast, and Garma, the old short one, who just wanted power. Magica, no great shock, wanted money. These three teamed up to join a tournament but good lord they hated each other, pretty much constantly back-stabbing each other and making you wonder why they thought this was a goddamn good idea at all.

Anyway, as for Gladstone, he didn't really have a role, so far as I remember. Just a panel appearance where he tried to woo Daisy in a flashback, and that was about it. Thus, it lets me headcanon like hell.

Get it? Got it? Good, onto the ideas, under the cut because knowing me this is gunna get long.

Long after the tournament, the three witches are still looking for ways to obtain their goals, reluctantly sticking together. Traveling in the desert, Magica spots a body in one of the dunes, and heads on over, thinking maybe there's a wallet she can grab, with the other two witches following suit. But when she kneels down to check him over, he momentarily wakes, dizzily says “You're... beautiful” then passes back out.

(A few studio ghibli fans just squinted and look it's a cute as hell intro SUE ME)

Magica and Neraja are more than willing to just keep going, but Garma gives him a once-over with her magic and gasps in shock – this man is magically gifted with magicells! (“... with what” “OH MY GOD DON'T YOU TWO EVER LISTEN WHEN I TEACH YOU THINGS”) In other words, he can become a familiar! (“... a what” “GODDAMMIT COME ON”) Garma explains that the man has a rare magical anomaly called “magicells” where every single cell of his body is amplified with powerful magic, making him stronger than the average user. This kind of phenomenon is a one in a million chance, but as a result it can be hard to control and takes a physical toll on him. If a witch/warlock could make him their familiar, the witch/warlock's own magical power would increase ONE HUNDRED FOLD! HOT DAMN LET'S DO THIS -

Except, Garma points out, there are two conditions. First, a familiar can only be assigned to one person. Second, the to-be-familiar has to sign a physical contract willingly with their own blood, the name of the witch/warlock they will belong to. They decide to figure out how later and drag him to their makeshift home, each one planning to make the guy their own familiar. Magica tries to scheme – Neraja's a real beauty, so she can't beat her there (and assumes that when the guy was saying “you're beautiful” he meant Neraja), and Garma's the powerhouse, so she can't work there either. So, take away seduction and fear... pity and guilt, that's the ticket! Magica reads the man's mind, and poofs herself into his ideal woman (the matilda look!)

The man eventually regains consciousness, calling himself Gladstone Gander. He'd been heading to his uncle's kingdom when the magicells took their toll on him and he passed out sooner than expected. He's... very suspicious of these women who keep fighting over his company, though they don't tell him why. He's got a twisted ankle they refuse to heal, so he has to wait out. Neraja's seduction tactics don't work on him (helps that her beast boyfriend keeps getting jealous and dragging him away) and Garma doesn't scare him, since his good luck keeps saving his hide. In comes Magica, making up a sob story about how she's forced to work for those two in a Cinderella situation, which Gladstone only partially buys.

“I'll take such good care of you, poor dear~! How about a cup of tea~?”

“Hm, yeah, that'd be nice.” “Okay, I'll-”

“With a pinch of sugar, a dallop of milk, and you've got honey, don't you?” “... Uh, yeah, I can-”

“And don't forget the lemon squeeze, and then you can fluff my pillows, and how about getting some music in here?”

“... /URGE TO MURDER RISES/”

So, yeah, no surprise, Gladstone is a goddamn terrible houseguest, driving them all up the wall. But that allows him to see the 'real' Magica when she loses her temper, and bit by bit he actually does begin to feel sorry for her. When his leg is healed, he asks Magica why she doesn't just... up and leave these two. Magica pauses – why DOESN'T she leave these nutjobs? They keep trying to kill each other, and they constantly get in the way. So she slips Neraja and Garma sleeping spells in their drinks, and escapes with him. She's still determined to get him as a familiar, so she's not leaving his side anytime soon.

As they journey to Scrooge's kingdom, it's backstory time! Gladstone reveals he's been used time and time again for his “good luck”, a.k.a his magicells, so he's pretty much given up on having any meaningful relationships. (And having a job, but that's just because he's fucking lazy) Magica admits that she grew up poor, and her parents tried to marry her off to a rich man so they could move up in society. Young Magica said “screw this” and took off, deciding that if she was going to be rich, it'd be by her own terms and her own happiness. Gladstone is wondering why Magica is still sticking around him if he's not trying to use her, and she keeps lying, saying she wants to be his friend. Of course, day by day, it becomes a little less of a lie...

Kingdom get! While Magica is trying to think of a way to make Gladstone sign the contract, she spots Neraja and Garma in the corner of her eye! Crap, they must have chased after them to get Gladstone!! But if Gladstone knows they were followed, he'd suspect something was up!!! She has to distract him and make sure the women pass on by, WHAT DO?! In a moment of desperation, she does the classic trick, the Fake Out Make Out – yanking in Gladdy for a big ol' smooch while the women walk on by, oblivious to the couple. Magica will apologize later, once it's over... and... uh... why is it... not over yet...???

Little hard to do the Fake Out part when the other partner isn't faking – Gladstone is returning the hell out of that kiss, much to Magica's shock (and enjoyment let's be real here) and when they finally remember to breathe, he asks to see the REAL her – yeah, he put two and two together that the black-haired beauty and the blonde in front of him are one and the same. Magica flusters WAIT A SECOND I THOUGHT BLONDES WERE YOUR TYPE??? “a guy can have more than one type :3” well isn't this awkward. Gladstone still hasn't figured out the familiar deal and Magica's finding it harder to talk about it.

They stay in Gladstone's place, and Magica has to leave just to get her thoughts together and understand what's going in her head. But Neraja sees Magica leaving, and sees a chance to get Gladstone for herself! She magically disguises herself as Magica (except in super sexy clothes) and strolls back in to seduce Gladstone, who is VERY STARTLED BY AMGICA IN SEXY CLOTHES BUT NOT REALLY COMPLAINING BECAUSE HE'S THE WORST. Thankfully Poe, Magica's raven, notices something's amiss, especially with that familiar beast outside – he nicks a piece of fur from its back and flies for his mistress, who instantly understands and runs back! Gladstone, meanwhile, is starting to get an idea that something's not right (NOOO REALLY) but Neraja's got her magic set in him now, good and hypnotized, ready to sign the contract... when Magica bursts in GET YOUR HANDS OFF HIM and magic battle! Which... blows off a wall, sorry Gladstone you didn't need that, right??? But all this destruction catches Garma's attention, and she summons up painful vines to trap Magica, Neraja and Gladstone.

Pained consent is still consent, right? Details shmetails. Garma uses the vines to give Gladstone pain while telling him that Magica was using him all alone for the contract deal, much to Magica's anguish, since she can't really deny it. Gladstone hands his head... bitterly laughs... of course... why should this have been different? … Hey, Garma, whatever your name is... if I sign this thing of yours... can you erase my memories...?

Yeah sure, why not. Garma holds up the magic contract, pricking Gladstone's finger, watching him sign. Magica screams, having never been so angry in her life... why couldn't you two HAVE LEFT WELL ENOUGH ALONE?! In fact, she gets so pissed off she breaks free from the vines and begins DELIVERING THE PAIN TO GARMA. Neraja manages to catch a glimpse at the contract, and what a surprise – Gladstone spelled Magica's name instead! So his power is being shared with hers! Awww. Also oh fuck because she's nexy, with Magica finally kicking both of them out of the kingdom and threatening to RIP THE FLESH FROM THEIR BONES IF SHE EVER SEES THEM AGAIN!

… and once she calms down, uh, wait, why did you sign my name, aren't you mad as hell at me??? For using you??? Yes, yes he is, but he figured if hes going to be used by someone, it may as well be with the “cute one”. GOD GLADSTONE YOU ARE ANNOYING AS HELL she's not blushing shut the hell up. … oh and scrooge wants to know WHY HIS KINGDOM HAS A FUCKING HUGE HOLE IN IT so here come adventures where Magica and Gladstone have to travel around and pay him back oops.

… sometime later when reading Gladstone learns that the “familiar spell” wasn't originally called that, and thousands of years ago it was a ritual so that a witch/warlock could share their power with their significant other as a way to help those they loved most – in other words, it was a wedding ritual. Uh... let's not tell Magica that for a while...

(the end hope you enjoyed it, now off I go to think of a witch/incubus magicstone nonsense and mickeyminnie pinocchio au I don't know how to think normally)

[never-a-tale-of-more-poe]

CHAPTER 7: In with the New

tw: sexual content, anger

Note: Guys, if you like the surprise in this chapter and would like more of it, please let me know and I will be happy to include more in future chapters. I hope you guys like this!

Also, as I mentioned before, since I decided to add this in I had to omit some of the things I had previously planned to include in this chapter. If something you thought would be in this chapter is now absent, please message me with what and I will be sure to include it. (i.e., any requests/questions I didn’t answer, etc.

I really appreciate each and every one of you, and this is was sort of my way of thanking you guys for being so kind and supportive to and of me.

Enjoy!

P.S. The surprise included in this chapter will not be in the chapters posted on FF.net/Ao3. 

 There were one thousand, six hundred, and forty-eight little air holes in Spencer’s cell. She’d counted every single one. It was the only thing that helped keep her mind off of everything that was going on. Spencer wasn’t even sure what was going on.

Though she did know this: she was locked underground, in a tiny cell no bigger than the average bedroom, her former high school teacher occupied the cell across from her, and her twin was running around Rosewood as her, probably setting mailboxes on fire or something.

Spencer had been positive that her friends would notice – that there would be something that didn’t seem quite right – but it seemed less likely as more time passed. Alex was her identical twin – everything about their physical appearance was identical. It was such a mind-fuck that Spencer half-expected to be ambushed with cameras and told it was a not-so-hilarious joke. But that was even less likely than her friends noticing that the Spencer they were with wasn’t actually Spencer.

And Toby helping Alex was the icing on the putrid cake she’d been force-fed. He had explained to Spencer that he knew about Alex a long time ago, but had vowed never to say anything to anyone. He wouldn’t reveal why he was helping Alex, or what he was getting in return, but apparently Toby and Wren were pretty good friends. What was more was that Toby had promised Spencer that he wouldn’t hurt her. And he hadn’t.

Ezra, though, was a different story. All Toby would say about Ezra was that Alex had “special plans” for him. He did not elaborate on what those plans were and when Ezra had cursed at him, Toby had turned off the lights to his cell and shut the first set of doors. Ezra had stayed in his silent, dark cell for over an hour, while Toby had (presumably) gone upstairs.

When Toby had finally opened the steel doors and turned on the light, Ezra was on his bed, simply staring at the wall. From that point on, Spencer and Ezra barely saw Toby except when he brought them food and water.

By the time they had eaten their second meal, Spencer really had to use the bathroom, but she was too scared to ask Toby to let her out. Instead she looked Toby dead in the eye and asked for a bucket. Not only did Toby comply, albeit reluctantly, but he brought her toilet paper and a small pack of sanitizing wipes.

When Ezra had asked for his own bucket, Toby had initially refused, but Spencer managed to talk him into it. Ezra was an asshole, but he shouldn’t have to use the bathroom in a bucket. He was still human, though in the lowest meaning of the word.

Later that night, when Alex still hadn’t returned, Toby told her to get some sleep; Alex would be back tomorrow. Needless to say Spencer didn’t sleep well. She tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep. She only knew it was morning when Toby came down with toast, jelly and little milk cartons.

The only thing she could do was wait. Alex had to come back soon, right?

“Oh, my God,” Alison groaned.

“What?” Emily glanced up from the book she was reading.

“These kids are killing me,” Alison rubbed her eyes and sat back in the armchair she’d occupied for the past hour.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “Their essays can’t be that bad.” She was stretched out comfortably on the couch, reading Rubyfruit Jungle.

“Most of them are pretty well-written, but there are a few handfuls that are just…yikes.” Alison frowned, chewing on the end of her pen. “I can guarantee you half of these kids didn’t read the book and just used Wikipedia.”

“Ali, you used to do that,” Emily giggled. “Remember when we had to read Animal Farm in eighth-grade and you watched the movie instead, and wrote your report based off the movie?”

Alison made a face. “God, I hated that book. It was so boring.”

“So your kids probably felt the same way about what they read,” Emily pointed out. “What did they have to read, anyway?”

“Guess.” Alison smirked.

“I don’t want to guess,” Emily sighed. “Just tell me.”

“Just guess!” Alison said. “Come on.”

“Fine,” Emily grumbled. “Uh… The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn?”

“Nope,” Alison answered.

“The Scarlett Letter?” Emily guessed.

“Nah. Try again, babe,” Alison said.

“Crime and Punishment?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, Ali!” Emily sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I give up. Just tell me.”

“The Crucible,” Alison said.

“Ooh, that’s a good one!” Emily nodded.

“Yeah,” Alison agreed. “And it’s not even a lengthy novel, so I don’t see why it was so difficult to read.”

Emily giggled.

“What?” Alison’s eyes narrowed.

“You sound like a stuffy old teacher,” Emily teased.

Alison picked up a pillow and threw it at her. “Oh, go back to reading your own book! I have to finish grading these papers.”

Emily stuck out her tongue, but turned back to her novel anyway. She had only been reading for about ten minutes when Alison gasped.

“That little brat!”

“What now?” Emily didn’t look up from her book this time.

“Addison,” Alison spat through her teeth.

“What’d she do, forget to cite her sources or something?” Emily joked.

“No,” Alison seethed.

Emily set her book down. Alison sounded pissed, and something told her it wasn’t because of half-assed schoolwork. She got up from her spot on the couch and walked over. “What? What is it?”

Alison thrust Addison’s paper at Emily. She was so mad her hands were starting to shake.

Emily quickly scanned the paper in front of her. Her mouth fell open and she absentmindedly perched on the arm of the couch, her arm reflexively going around Alison’s shoulders.

“Ali…” Emily didn’t really know what else to say. “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to destroy her. If she thinks she can get away with –”

But she was cutoff mid-rant by her phone’s text alert tone that sounded like an old-fashioned doorbell. She swiped her phone off the coffee table and opened the message. Her phone slipped from her hands and she scrambled to pick it up.

“WHAT THE FUCK, JASON?” Alison shouted.

“What? Are the girls hurt?!” Emily asked, alarmed.

“Look!” Alison groaned. She shoved her phone in Emily’s face. “I will kill him.”

Emily set Addison’s paper aside and glanced down at Alison’s phone. On it was of Lily and Grace in matching mint-green bonnets and new onesies.

I MUSTACHE ASK YOU A QUESTION, read one And

BUT I SHALL SHAVE IT FOR LATER, the other Of course a couple of silly onesies weren’t what made the two women so upset. What made them upset were the tiny, gold Eiffel Tower earrings in one of their daughter’s ears, and the silver snow globes in the other.

Hanna fully intended on shopping. She needed to spoil herself after her breakup with Caleb, and the worst hangover of her life that subsequently followed earlier this morning.

She had noticed a pair of Marc Jacobs heels on sale that were to die for, and had every intention of purchasing them. But it was kind of hard to focus on shoes when she had her back against the wall of a stuffy dressing room with Mona’s fingers deep inside her.

It was like something out of a goddamn Lifetime movie. The Hastings’ house was impeccably clean. The carpet looked freshly shampooed, the kitchen floor was freshly waxed, and even the damn drapes looked spotless. There was a kettle of tea on the stove, a plate of fresh-baked macaroons on the island table, and the air smelled heavenly; like fresh laundry and lavender. Peter was dressed in dark blue jeans and a plan blue T-shirt, while Veronica looked more sophisticated in black dress pants and a black blazer. It was almost eerie how put-together everything was.

Alex followed Spencer’s parents into the living room and took a seat on the couch.

“What did you want to talk about? Is everything going well at the firm?” Veronica asked, concerned, as she settled down in an armchair across from her, while Peter sat in the other chair. “Is it Mary?” Peter’s voice was taut and sharp, almost unnerving. “Yes, the firm is fine. No, it isn’t about Mary,” Alex answered, with a roll of her eyes. “I want to talk about…well, about us.” “Us?” Peter and Veronica echoed in unison. Alex paused. She wanted to ask why they never knew about her. How could that be possible? Would they have kept her, had they known? But she couldn’t. Not yet, anyway. “Why did you keep this a secret from me for so long?” Alex finally asked. “Were you….ashamed?” “No!” Veronica gasped. “We could never be ashamed of you, sweetheart. It was very complicated. Mary –”

“ – Is very unwell,” Peter cut in. “She’s sick, Spencer. We thought it would be best if you didn’t know.” “I know I am not your birth mother, honey, but I am still your mother.” Veronica sounded like she was going to start crying. Alex frowned. “Don’t cry,” she whispered. “I….” She swallowed. Suddenly she wasn’t sure what to say. What could she say without blowing everything?

“I’m going to go up to my room,” Alex said slowly, rising to her feet. “ “I’m staying with Aria for a few days,” she added, as she ascended up the stairs to Spencer’s room. “In light of…well, you know. She needs me.” “Alright,” Veronica said. “Send our regards,” Peter added. “Poor girl…” “Yeah,” Alex murmured. She hurried up the stairs, too afraid of what she would say if she stayed a moment longer. Inside her sister’s room, Alex sort of…felt at home. It was a comfortable feeling, even though the room wasn’t hers. It certainly not how she’d decorate anyway. 

Spencer had trophies lined against various shelves on the bookshelf against the far wall. A collection of awards and ribbons for “first-place” this and first-place that lined the walls of her room and stretched all the way around, from one end of the doorframe to the other. Alex walked through Spencer’s room, into her closet and pulled out a large suitcase. She went through the closest and through Spencer’s dressers, haphazardly throwing clothes into it. Then she went into Spencer’s bathroom and grabbed her toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash and other bathroom necessities. She stuffed Spencer’s pillows into her room, along with the comforter. As she turned to walk away from the bed, she caught of a frame photo on Spencer’s bedside table. She set down the suitcase and picked up the photo frame. Nestled inside was a picture of Aria and Spencer. Their arms were around each other’s necks, their heads thrown back in laughter. Aria’s smile was so big it reached her ears. It made Alex’s stomach churn uncomfortably, and she didn’t even realize she’d thrown the frame until it shattered against the wall opposite the bed. The sound was loud, and Alex tensed, waiting for Peter and Veronica to come running. But nothing happened. Alex exhaled loudly. She shut her eyes and rubbed her temples, much like the way Spencer herself did.

“Goddammit!” Alex grumbled. She snatched up Spencer’s suitcase and pulled on the handle. She shut off the light and exited Spencer’s room, without bothering to clean up the glass from the now-broken frame. When she made her way back downstairs, Veronica was gone, but Peter – her father – was reading a newspaper. For some reason the sight made Alex smile. Who the hell still read newspapers? Alex cleared her throat. “D-Dad?” Peter glanced up over the top of his newspaper. “Are you alright?” He set his paper down and motioned Spencer over. “You look pale. Maybe you should stay home.” Alex shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice cracking. “I just…” She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Peter, who hugged her back. Alex was so overwhelmed she almost cried. It had taken twenty-three years, but she was finally in her father’s arms. Despite what he had done, he was her father. He smelled like cologne and cigars. It was so typical and cliché that Alex laughed. “What’s so funny?” Peter pulled back. “N-nothing,” Alex swallowed. “It’s just…it’s good to see you.” “It’s great to see you, too, honey,” Peter hugged Spencer again and ruffled her hair. “Come home for lunch tomorrow. Bring Aria. We’ll make an afternoon out of it.” “Really?” Alex brightened. “Yeah, why not?” Peter smiled. Alex hugged her father once more and left. As soon as she got in her car, pulled out of the driveway and turned the corner she burst into tears. 

So…that was what it was like. That’s what it felt like to get a real hug from her father. It was a feeling Alex was sure she would never tire of.

When Alex arrived back at the bunker, Toby was yelling at Ezra. Again. She had walked in to hear the end of another rant of his, but didn’t care enough to ask about it. She pulled Toby aside and they spoke in hushed whispers, while glancing at their hostages every few seconds. Alex pressed a sealed envelope into Toby’s awaiting hands and bid him goodbye, and he shot out of there like a bat out of hell. Alex punched in the code and entered Spencer’s cell. “Hey sis,” Alex grinned. “Did ya miss me?” She gestured to the suitcase. “I’ve brought you a change of clothes. Reckon you don’t wanna be in that for another day.”

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, oddly touched by the sweet gesture. “That was really sweet of you.” “I’ve brought ya a pillow and bathroom stuff,” Alex sat down in her chair next to Spencer’s cot. “Thought I’d make ya a bit more comfortable.” “Did you bring me anything?” Ezra asked from his own cell. “No,” Alex scoffed. “You brought Spencer clothes and everything else she might need, but you couldn’t be bothered to at least get me a fresh change of clothes?” Ezra stared at Alex in disbelief. “Are you really that much of a bi ––” “Ezra!” Spencer snapped. “God, I’m sick and tired of your constant whining. You’re acting like a three-year-old.” “Oi, Spence. Now don’t go ‘round insulting three-year-olds like that,” Alex said. Spencer’s lips twitched up into a smirk. “I am NOT acting like a child!” Ezra shouted, nearly pouting. “Alex, this is ridiculous. Stop this right now. Let us out and I will consider not pressing charges against you for aggravated kidnapping.” Alex set the suitcase down and smiled. It was a smile that made Spencer nervous and uneasy. Not for Ezra’s sake, but for Alex’s. Even though she and her sister were tall, she didn’t know how much Alex weighed. Ezra had a good one hundred pounds or so on the both of them. “You know what?” Ezra glared at Alex’s back. “I’m not surprised you were given up what was it, twice? If I were your father, I’d give you up, too!”

Both girls gasped and Alex whipped around and started toward Ezra’s cell. "YOU SON OF A —” “Al,” Spencer reached out and tugged Alex back by her wrist. “Leave it. He’s not worth it.” Alex turned to Spencer fast she was surprised she didn’t pop a muscle. “Did…did you just call me ‘Al’?” she asked. Spencer shrugged. “It’s a nickname. My friends call me Spence, as have you, so —” “I like it,” Alex said, shooting her sister a small grin. For the first time it was a warm, genuine smile. A smile, in which, Spencer saw no deceit or malicious intent. So she smiled back. “I thought you might.” Alex glared at Ezra, flipped him the middle finger and sat down next to Spencer on her bed. She started to say something, but stopped and glanced around. “Wait…” Alex said slowly. “What?” Spencer asked. “Toby didn't…that son of a bitch!” Alex sighed. Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Toby didn't…what?” Alex got up, crossed the room over to the wall facing Spencer’s bed, and opened a hidden compartment in the wall, where a button was revealed. She hit it.

The wall at the end of Spencer’s bed slid open to reveal a shiny, moderately sized bathroom, and Spencer leapt to her feet. “There ya go,” Alex smirked. “There’s a bathroom in here?!” Spencer shrieked. “Yep.” “With…with indoor plumbing?” “And a shower,” Alex shrugged. “Merlin, Spencer, I’m not that heartless.” She walked over to her sister and waved her hand in the direction of Spencer’s suitcase. “You’ll find all yer bathroom needs in there, too.” “Jesus, Alex,” Spencer managed, after the small shock had worn off. "How the hell did you manage all this?” Alex bent down, pulled out a key from her shoe and unlocked Spencer’s chain. It fell to the floor with a clank.“You can have an hour to shower and freshen up,” Alex nodded. “But you have to go back in the chain after.”

Spencer nodded. She was so revealed she grabbed her suitcase and hurried into the bathroom. God, it was glamorous. It was shiny and clean, with a decent sized tub. 

She unzipped her suitcase, delighted to find not only clothes, but pillows, blankets and shampoo. She pulled out a change of clothes, and everything she’d need for her shower. “Thank you, Alex,” Spencer called out, changing out of her clothes. She turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature to HOT, and stepped under the stream.

“Why do you have this?” Mona asked, eyeing Hanna’s computer warily. The two were cuddled together on Hanna’s – er, Lucas’ – couch, in front of Hanna’s laptop.

“It’s fun,” Hanna shrugged, scrolling through her Dashboard.

“How long have you had this?” Mona asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Uh, just a few days. But look at how many followers we have!" Hanna pointed excitedly at her screen.

"I can’t believe you have a Tumblr.” Mona shook her head. 

Hanna had created a Tumblr account for the six of them – herself, Spencer, Emily, Aria, Alison, and Mona. The blog had a pink and black background with girly, spiral-like white font. The blogged was called 

The Liars 6, and Hanna blogged about their lives, though nothing she knew the others wouldn’t mind sharing. Not that she had asked them, but whatever. They already had a substantial amount of followers, which wasn’t a surprise. Everyone knew who they were; you didn’t have to live in Rosewood to know about the Pretty Little Liars, the name some cliquey magazine had once dubbed them. 

So far, Hanna had posted about their week: Ezra standing Aria up, the sleepover they had, the games they’d played, and of course, what she and Mona had done.

Mona didn’t particularly care that Hanna had told the entire Internet that they’d slept together, but a heads up would have been nice.

“You have some messages,” Mona pointed to the red number above the envelope symbol in the middle of a row of icons in the upper right-hand corner. “Oh!” Hanna slid her cursor over and clicked on it. Immediately a string of messages in gray boxes popped up. She licked her lips and read the first one she saw.

“Hanna, who tops? Mona, right? – D.A.”

Hanna frowned. "What the hell kind of message is this? Who the fuck is D.A.? Is that A.D. backwards?” Panic shot through her, but she calmed down instantly when she felt Mona’s hand on her shoulder

“It’s probably one of your followers,” Mona said gently. “Reply to them and ask them what it stands for.” Hanna scrolled down to another question sent in by an anonymous user. 

“Spencer, can you help me with my paper on metaphysics philosophy’ – P.A.?" 

What the hell is that? Metaphysics philosophy? That sounds gross.”

“Ha!” Mona snickered and pointed to another message someone had sent in. “Look at this one. Aria, I feel like you’d be a weird flapper girl or a candy striper from the '20s? Am I right? – Ea2 Hanna giggled. "These people are funny. Hey, look! Someone likes Spence and Aria together,” she said, pointing to a message someone sent in that just read:

“TEAM SPARIAAAAA. SPENCER AND ARIA BELONG TOGETHER.”

“It’s weird that people ship them together,” Hanna’s nose wrinkled. “People ship us together, too,” Mona reminded Hanna, pointing out the message sent by the user who had simply gone by ’D.A.’ “Should I answer them?” Hanna asked, more to herself than to Mona. “Hell yeah!” Mona grinned and grabbed Hanna’s laptop. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she typed a response: Hey, hey, D.A.! Mona here. Great question. I top, obviously. What, did you really think Hanna would? – M.V. She hit POST before Hanna could stop her.

“Mona!” Hanna gasped.

Mona stuck out her tongue and turned back to the screen. She clicked on another question.

Mona again. Sorry. P.A., Spencer didn’t read this. I can help if you’re interested. Let me know! ☺ - M.V. Mona posted the answered question and scrolled through a few other ones. She smiled and nudged Hanna, who had turned her attention to her phone. “Hey, Han?” “What?” Hanna glanced up from her phone. “Look.” Mona pointed to a message. Hanna leaned over so she could read it. Someone had said: “I think you and Mona are really cute together!” Hanna mirrored Mona’s smile. “Well. They aren’t wrong. Hey, should we answer more of these?” “Yeah!” Mona smirked. “This could be fun.”

“Get off me!” “No!” “Alex!” “Spencer!” “You’re not being fair!” “All’s fair in love and war,” Alex teased. Spencer shoved her shoulder into Alex’s, momentarily causing Alex to drop her controller. “Ha!” she smirked triumphantly. 

After her shower, Spencer had come out to see that Alex had remade her bed with fresh bedding, and had even added a soft mattress topper while she was in the shower. Alex had also dragged in a larger desk, which housed flat-screen TV and a PlayStation 4 game console. The two had been playing Mortal Kombat for almost an hour now.

“You cheated!” Alex exclaimed. “Not fair. Rematch?” “You were jumping on my guy!” Spencer protested. Across Spencer’s cell, Ezra made a loud, obnoxious humming sound to her the girls’ attention. Both girls looked up.

“Uh, can I play?” Ezra asked hopefully. He was bored out of his mind. “Piss off,” Alex and Spencer snapped in unison. The twins giggled at each other and Alex playfully bumped her sister’s shoulder. “Okay, round two. Allow me to kick your arse.”

[mysmeprotectionsquad]

Can you do the RFA + V with an MC who CANNOT sleep in a house alone. Like she's paranoid about someone breaking in, watching her in her sleep, etc. So by the party she's sleep deprived and close to passing out.

Wow look at cat mom actually doing stuff!! Much productive such write!! Sorry for not being active lately due to some personal matters and overall crappy health, but I promise to try my best from now on.

Onto your request: Yikes I want to wrap this MC in a blanket and put her to sleep like omg who gives a damn about this party lol. Anyways, here you go, love! I ignored everything that happened in each party because that would’ve changed… well, your entire request, especially in certain routes. Just think of it as a neutral party? Taking Jaehee’s route as an example.

- Admin Cat Mom.

Yoosung

the moment is perfect and this baby boy is more than ready to become a Manly Man and give you that well-deserved kiss you both have been waiting for.

and he’s going for it, he wraps his arms around you and leans in for a kiss, but right before closing his eyes he notices how drained you look.

the bags under your eyes can be seen from space oh dear god.

of course the stupid kiss doesn’t matter anymore.

and he beats himself up for not noticing it before?

immediately starts interrogating you.

sweetie you’re not helping let poor MC at least process the questions.

instead of answering any of them, you mumble something unintelligible and hold tightly to his arms.

you got like two hours of sleep last night, your eyelids are heavy and your whole body feels like jelly so you’re thankful for the extra support.

but while your busy letting yourself go in his arms, he straight up freaks out because—are you passing out right now, MC?

oh god oH GOD PLEASE DON’T.

WHAT DOES A MAN HAVE TO DO HERE TO GET A CHAIR FOR HIS LADY

once he takes you somewhere quiet, gets you a chair, and makes certain you’re somewhat more stable, he squats down in front of you and holds your hand, stroking it softly as he listens to what’s been troubling you.

if only he would’ve known sooner…

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that by yourself, MC.”

you can see true anguish in every corner of his face.

after a brief discussion with the rest of RFA, he offers to take you home and promises to stay with you until you feel better.

and even though he doesn’t say this out loud, he would gladly, ahem, sleep right next to you if it’ll make you feel safe and sound.

Zen

this place is so crowded and noisy and holY SHIT you look like you’re dying, MC, what the hell happened?

he’s eavesdropping on you and it’s quite evident you’re trying your best to make conversation with guests but you’re so disconnected from everything, stuttering and fidgeting and spacing out.

so he approaches you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder to help you out a little and pull you back to earth.

and… you startle at his touch and screech, he screeches as well and backs up, everybody goes quiet, things get awkward, suddenly the concept of spontaneous combustion sounds nice and fitting.

in order to avoid making things worse, though, he smiles for the guests, suggests them to try the food and takes you somewhere less crowded.

it’s not really a pleasant talk because you feel so dizzy and you’re afraid he may start nagging you for not getting enough sleep.

yet not surprisingly enough, he gets mad at everyone but you.

he’s mad at seven and v for leaving you all alone in someone else’s apartment and refusing to reveal your location

what was the point of that anyway?

he’s also mad at himself for not being there for you.

and while he rattles on and on about RFA’s irresponsible and careless members, your legs start feeling heavy and your vision gets blurry.

whoops, there goes MC who is now all passed out on the floor.

OH SHIT.

nope nope nope he’s getting you out of there rIGHT NOW.

not a chance he’s letting you stay at the party, you need a good ol’ beauty sleep to recharge and get better.

Jaehee

she’s been in your position more times than she can count.

it’s pretty obvious she recognizes all the signs of a sleep deprived individual.

and she’s honestly the sweetest and most caring of them all?

like honey, you’ve done more than enough for this huge success of a party, you’re even trying to socialize and interact with guests while struggling to stand and walk.

everything’s been taken care of and the guys are handling the party just fine, you don’t need to worry and you’re going home right. now.

because having you wander around while close to passing out could do more harm than you leaving early.

when she mentions driving you somewhere nearby rika’s apartment so you can get some sleep, your face immediately drops.

oh…?

she’s quick to pick up your reaction and asks for an explanation.

after you provide her one, she deadpan nods and grabs you by the arm.

okay then it’s settled, she has no choice but to take you to her place.

when you both arrive, she puts you to bed and offers you a warm cup of tea to help you relax before heading out.

except she barely makes it two inches far from her bed because there’s something desperately pulling her sleeve.

she hesitates for a moment and urges you that you’re safe here, there are no bomb threats or possible intruders or hackers slash kidnappers waiting for the right time to take you away.

plus they’re expecting her at the party.

but… you’re persistent and you seem genuinely distressed thus she can’t just go on with her day knowing you’re feeling unsafe.

so she lies down next to you and lets you rest your head on her chest, and she promises to stay by your side until you wake up.

her heart is pounding like crazy and her cheeks are bright red, poor thing may explode at any given second but it’s okay it’s all good, it feels nice having you this close.

you soon fall asleep together and it’s the cutest thing.

Jumin

as soon as he arrives, he eagerly starts looking for you.

an alluring being among the crowd he simply cannot wait to meet, where can they be? you can tell how anxious he is just by looking at his left cuff.

he’s fidgeting with it nonstop.

he asks about your whereabouts to every RFA member and guest he encounters without any luck.

until he bumps into seven and pops out the same question yet again.

“there,” he answers while pointing at his back.

five seconds later you crash into him, both of you losing balance for a moment.

“are you drunk, MC?”

though harsh and quite direct, he tries to be discreet about it.

and in his defense, you do look a bit drunk and disoriented.

this isn’t how he imagined getting to meet you.

still, he’s a gentleman resolved to help you avoid embarrassment and discomfort, and instead of dwelling on the reasons behind your current state right there, he escorts you outside to have a talk.

what? what do you mean you’ve barely slept in the past two weeks?

he refrains from lecturing you because 1) you look like you could faint at any minute and 2) he doesn’t want to upset someone who’s already upset enough, it’d be no help.

“you should’ve called, why didn’t you? I would’ve kept you company.”

you know it’s serious when executive director jumin han is willing to sacrifice his sleep and tight schedule just to make sure you’re having a good night’s sleep.

but since “it’s no use crying over spilled milk” his words and he has zero fucks to give, he suggests fleeing from the party.

no worries he ends up calling jaehee to let her know you’re feeling unwell.

after getting into his car, you fall asleep on his shoulder.

he stays still and watches you sleep in silence, a cute, barely noticeable smile across his face.

Seven

oh noes.

he’s seen that “do i want death or am i already dead who the hell knows at this point” look you’re pulling off.

where, you may be wondering? oh, that’s right, in the fucking mirror every goddamn night for the past fifteen years of his life.

you look like a zombie wandering around the room, you’re bumping into people and making a mess your way.

you haven’t even realized there’s a wine stain on your pretty clothes.

YOU. NEED. HELP.

otherwise, he’s afraid you’ll pass out cold and the last thing you need right now is a concussion, so he comes up to you and greets you with one of his dumb jokes in order to lift your spirit.

it kinda works but you’re still looking… well, dead, and moody.

a moody zombie? yeah, that’s about it.

refusing to give up on you just yet, he grabs your hand and promises to stay by your side throughout the whole night so you can lean on him, literally, whenever you feel like you’re about to faint.

what was that? do you want to leave early instead? that’s cool too, jaehee will take care of everything don’t you worry, my brave soldier.

defender of justice seven zero seven’s got your back!!

you eventually leave the party together but you don’t go very far, instead, you lay down on a park nearby to contemplate the sky.

he’s telling you stories about the clouds idly passing by when he hears a sweet little snore.

it’s you!! you’ve fallen asleep on his chest, aw.

all the blood in his system gathers on his cheeks and he is now all red, you can’t tell his hair apart from his face.

and in order to keep you warm and well protected, he embraces you with both arms and kisses your head.

later on he falls asleep too because he’s just as sleep deprived as you.

V

surprise surprise! much to everyone’s expectations, lovely boy has decided to show up to the party!

and he’s so excited to meet you after hearing so many positive things about you and how you’ve put every ounce of energy into RFA’s party.

he needs to thank you properly!!

spotting you amidst the guests isn’t really hard as there’s a bunch of people gathered in the center of the room making commotion.

apparently, someone has fainted? he can hear yoosung screaming and asking people to make some room, zen is yelling something about CPR, and jaehee is rushing to the crowd while dialing what it seems to be 119.

what in the world…?

determined to do some damage control, he hurries to reach jaehee and tries to find out what the hell is going on.

“it appears MC has passed out and we don’t know the reason.”

no need to say more.

he kindly but firmly asks people to stay back so that you can get some air, and he also sends yoosung to get you a chair to sit on.

zen is in charge of bringing you a glass of water because boy needs to calm the eff down.

five minutes later he manages to sit you upright in a chair, away from the crowd and where you can get some fresh air.

six pairs of concerned eyes are piercing right through you while you try to regain consciousness, only one of them hidden behind sunglasses.

you may not see those eyes clearly, but they carry the most guilt out of all of them.

in his usual soft caring voice, he does an attempt to ask you what’s wrong, and as he gets the answer he was expecting, he frowns and strokes your hair.

“why didn’t you say anything? we could’ve helped you.”

were it not for the mess he’s sunken in thanks to rika, he would’ve gone to the apartment himself to make sure you were getting some sleep.

[hellomissmabel]

Manhattan Mistress part 2

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader, Tony x reader and OC!Casey (daughter of Y/N and Tony)

Summary: Another conversation with Natasha. Steve’s got a very fucked up way of showing his love for his wife.

Italics are flashbacks.

Word count: 2.910

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), bad language, talk of violence, death and abuse. If anything of the forementioned is not your cup of tea, please do not read below the cut.

A/N: Dedicated to my favourite mob AU writer @caplanbuckybarnes.

Part 1: the background story

The friction

“Still sore?,” Natasha asks as she hands me an icepack to hold against my inner thighs. I wince when the cold first settles in but soon enough it soothes the burning sensation that has me chained to the living room couch. “Rough night?” Her voice is as light as a summer’s breeze and a little smile curls her lips upwards, it’s only a shame it doesn’t quite reach her gloomy eyes.

“Yeah, you can say that.”

Steve and Bucky had gone out to celebrate Steve’s victory. Steve wanted you there by his side but you had failed to arrange a babysitter for the night. No-one would be around the house to watch Casey and she was still far too young to accompany you to Wilson’s bar, so you offered to stay home instead. He gave you one final peck on the cheek and left with the promise of returning home at a respectable time.

It was already well past midnight when Steve finally made his way to your bedroom, a whiff of alcohol on his breath and a very evident hard-on suffering in his pants. As he crawled in the bed next to you, his arm snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him.

“You know what Buck told me today?,” he murmurs darkly, his words a little slurred. “You wanna know what he said?”

I have had my fair share of experiences with drunken men and if there’s one thing I’ve learnt from all these interactions, it’s not to thwart a man speaking with a tiddly tongue and sex on his mind. I’m going to give him a run for his money in the morning.

“What did he say baby?,” I coo seductively, rolling over in his arms so I’m facing him directly. He looks at me through hooded eyes and I can taste the whiskey on his tongue as he leans in to kiss me. It’s hardly elegant, all tongues and teeth and very sloppy. He trails open-mouthed kisses down my neck and on my collarbone until he reaches the valley of my breasts while his fingers ease their way down my stomach and into my heat.

“You’re so wet baby, I can smell you from a mile away,” he purrs into my ear before nibbling on my ear lobe, his digits dancing across my exposed skin in a tango d’amore, skimming just the right spots with the right amount of pressure. For a moment I let go, his fingers milking my orgasm. “That’s my girl, my Manhattan mistress.” An involuntary shiver runs down my spine and I have to swallow my pride hard, trying not to slap him and wipe that victorious smirk off of his beautifully smug face.

“He told me you’re the best lay he’s ever had,” Steve answers darkly, getting off the bed and dragging me out behind him. “Take off your clothes honey,” he demands and I heed to his request, shedding myself of my nightgown as Steve does the same, all the while eyeing me like a predator watches its prey right before the kill. My fingers work as fast as they can and as soon as the babydoll drops to the floor, his bare skin mingles with mine.

“You like these?,” Steve asks as his hand holds a tight grip on my upper arm, gesturing towards my panties. I can see the darkness overtaking his features and I nod quickly, the sooner I can get this over with the better.

“Too bad,” he chuckles and he violently pushes me back on the bed, positioning himself between my legs and hooking his fingers around the hem of my lace underwear, forcefully sliding them down my legs and ripping the fragile fabric along the way. He tosses them somewhere across the room before turning his attention back to me, pouncing on me as the weight of his body locks me into place.

“Well you know what, his best lay is now mine and I’m going to prove it to everyone who dare say otherwise,” he whispers before lining himself up at my entrance, already too far gone to amuse both of us with more foreplay. Then again, this isn’t about indulgence anymore, this is about a man marking his woman as his own.

“Oh fuck, Y/N, so tight.” His words of praise fall on deaf ears as I bite down on my lip, stifling a moan when he fully sheathes himself inside my cunt, giving me no time to adjust to his generous size. He instantly rolls his hips against mine, pushing into me as far as my tight entrance would allow.

“Give it to me, Stevie,” I whisper as he bottoms out. “I’m yours.”

I take great pride in the fact I’ve found such a well-endowed man. Not that Tony wasn’t impressive as well but Steve, damn, his dick looks like a starter, main and dessert, the thick vein underneath pulsating on my tongue every single time I suck him off. This politician sure likes his blowjob before breakfast.

My nails are raking down his chiselled back, red decorating his ripped muscles as I claw my way under his skin, I am not going to let him forget about tonight that easily. His athletic body is sweat-slicked, his laboured breaths announcing his impending orgasm. “You take my cock like such a good girl, you’re such a good girl you know that?”

Of course I do.

His pace is brutal, pounding into me with reckless abandon, crossing the thin fine line between mindless sex and a raw fucking on multiple occasions. It’s absolutely filthy and you can’t help but like it. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum.”

Steve feels like the missing piece to my puzzle, the pain always translating into pleasure. I feel his fingers grip on my waist even tighter, his chest pushing my legs further up my body, the new position stretching it in such a delicious way, making it all the more easy for him to hit that sweet spot that has my toes curling in delight.

That night, just like every other night, you fall apart – together.

“Y/N, was he drunk?” Natasha’s brows are knitted together in concern but she need to fear for you, you’re a good girl after all.

“He was just frustrated, that’s all,” you brush off her worry, showing her your best poker face. Nat doesn’t need to know what inspired Steve’s sudden anger. She doesn’t need to know Bucky tried to rekindle your romance and you blew him off. She doesn’t need to know that said man decided to rub it in Steve’s face that he too once called you his best girl just to get on your nerves.

Well, truth is Bucky never left your mind either. “It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, it’s just… I’ve never seen my sweet Stevie like this. So feral, so animalistic in his desire.”

Steve didn’t like being called out like that and took a swing at Bucky, but Bucky used to be quite the talented and skilful boxer when he was a bit younger, so he easily outmatched Steve in his own game. Sam had to calm both men down, ordering Clint to drive Steve home whilst telling Bucky to take a walk and get some air before coming back in and be on the receiving end of a stern talking-to.

Sam doesn’t tolerate this kind of behaviour in his bar, especially not when it involves me. Sam suspects Bucky is up to something and he has confided in me about his suspicions a long time ago but I didn’t think too much of it at the time. Nevertheless, what went down between Steve and Bucky is worth investigating because something tells me I’ve not been on the receiving end of the full story here.

“You’re straying into dangerous territory, Y/N. Tony was bad enough as it is, you don’t need a second abusive husband.”

“Like I don’t know that,” you bite back, carding a hand through your messed-up hair. You barely even made it out of your bed and down the stairs, you hadn’t even bothered combing your hair or thinking about looking presentable. Besides, Nat had seen you in a far worse state than this, a remembrance you rather not pay any mind. “But I rather have him release all his pent-up anger during sex with me than have him bumping uglies with some girl he has been keeping on the side.”

“Y/N,” Nat warns, “You deserve better than a husband who beats the crap out of you. You don’t want a child with someone like that.”

“I already have a child with someone like that,” you remind her. “I appreciate it, Nat, but Steve has never done anything even remotely close to the misery Tony put me through.”

The first year of your marriage to Tony had been splendid, with long days and long nights spent wrapped up in each other’s arms, making love until the stars fell out of the sky. That is, until a shit storm came along and the tables turned drastically. From then on Tony was easily provoked and you had to walk on egg shells whenever he was around the house. The lovemaking had been replaced by just a proper fucking and the sweet nothings he used to whisper in your ear during aftercare had been thrown out with the trash, a series of profanities littering his lips instead.

It wasn’t that you did something wrong, in fact you tried everything in your power to have him come back to you every night, share your bed with the same amount of passion he used to dote you with when you first started seeing each other. Sometimes a fight would escalate and Tony would hit you even though he’s never been violent before. You were shook the first time, but the second time you fought back and made sure some of your father’s men beat some sense into him.

Love is more than a fickle game, it’s absolute madness and one day it drove you over the edge. His indifference was met with ferocity as you refused to put up with his shit for any longer than necessary, he had a responsibility towards you as his wife for fuck’s sake. Realisation quickly dawned upon him and he never laid a finger on you or, so you promised him, you would cut off his junk personally if he ever did so again.

9 months later you gave birth to Casey. Tony was very invested in his daughter and it felt like you were reliving the first year of your marriage all over again. But history has a way of repeating itself, you just didn’t think that it would happen to you and Steve.

“Then why aren’t you pregnant yet?,” Nat scoffs and you grit your teeth. “Hey, don’t get your panties in a twist, girl. I’m just trying to help you out, that’s all.”

“We’ve been going at it for a month straight now and still without result. I’ve tried everything, from being a good sub to punishing him like a good dom.”

“Maybe you’ve been trying to please him too much, maybe that’s your problem. You are being too good for him, you are a fucking mob boss for fuck’s sake! You don’t need to put up a front anymore for him. Your father is dead, he can’t scold you anymore for your past mistakes. Maybe it’s time Steve gets to know the real Y/N. Remember Peggy? That girl could swear like a sailor and she still managed to end up between his sheets and with a ring on her finger.”

“Steve fell for the shy girl-next-door, attempting to escape a broken marriage and raise her child the right way. A sweet girl, a good girl raised by a cruel father and an absent mother. What if he doesn’t like this me, a bad girl who keeps a gun in her lingerie drawer and knows exactly how to use it, who is not afraid to use it. What if he shuns me?”

“Like I said before, Steve isn’t the same guy anymore either,” Nat utters in her defence, “He’s toughened up. There might be a lot he doesn’t know about you, but I bet there’s also a lot you don’t know about him. He’s too good a politician.”

“Alright, I’ll take it under consideration, I don’t want him spending any more time at Sam’s place than he does already.”

“So I take it you heard about that pretty new singer over at Sam’s bar? A redhead with twinkly brown eyes, legs to die for and sings like a nightingale? Jess I think her name was?”

You nod, your heart sinking in your shoes. “How could I not? He’s raving about her to every damn soul that steps through those doors.”

“What are you going to do about it? Perhaps you should give Clint a call, don’t you think? A beautiful girl like that can even corrupt the most honest man,” she says with a knowing smile.

"Yes, I'm aware,” I concede, releasing a deep breath. She’s right, after all we are that kind of woman too.

As soon as Natasha leaves the house, I pick up the phone myself and dial Clint’s number. He doesn’t pick up straightaway and I leave him a voicemail. “Just get your ass over here when you’re done messing around with your protégé, Wanda. I know you are fucking Pietro’s sister, Clint, I heard you. You owe me for not telling Nat.”

The doorbell rings about 10 minutes later. I’m brewing coffee in the kitchen, mindlessly flipping Clint’s business card with his number on it between my fingers. The maid, Maria, immediately moves to open the door and I hear Clint’s heavy footsteps resonating on the pristine marble floor. He turns around the corner and smiles just a little. Clint’s never been big on showing any emotions.

“What’s up boss?,” he asks and I gesture for him to sit down at the table. He takes his coffee black, no sugar and no milk, just like Natasha does.

“Clinton, I need you to take care of some loose ends for me. You know the new girl, Jess, the one that now sings at Sam’s establishment?”

Clint has always been one of my father’s most loyal follower’s and upon his death, Clint has proven his allegiance to me on more than one occasion. As a sign of my gratitude, I introduced him to my best friend Natasha. For me to introduce Clint to someone of my inner circle is one of the highest signs of respect you can get from a mob boss. He has not disappointed me yet, although his dalliance with Wanda is highly unfortunate. But I trust him to keep my secrets so it’s only fair I keep his, God knows how many skeletons there are in Nat’s closet. They don’t call her the Black Widow for nothing, any man who dares to flirt with her and disappoint her in the sack ends up with a bullet in his back, or so the story goes.

“Yeah, I’ve heard her a couple of times. Easy on the eyes and a nice voice. What about her, boss?”

I groan inwardly at his comment, his words tearing through the tension building in my bones, but I choose to remain professional about it. “I need you to make her an offer she can’t refuse. Here, take this,” I say as I hand him over one of my checks, “Make sure she gets the message. It’s all or nothing and if she hasn’t skipped town by the end of the day, then she doesn’t value her life as much as I thought she did.”

Clint gives me a puzzled look. “You know the drill,” I explain sternly. “A bullet between the eyes and be sure to make it a clean shot. I don’t want Sam to complain to me about the clean-up afterwards.”

Clint gets up from his seat, nodding in acknowledgement. “For what it’s worth, I like your voice better, boss. Less Disney, you know,” he chuckles and you grace him with half a smile. “Boss, where’s your watchdog? Did Steve fire him after their quarrel?”

“He’s tied up elsewhere,” I reply dryly, looking up from the contents of my coffee cup with a scowl. “Steve took him out for drinks at Sam’s bar. He wants to resolve their issues away from prying eyes.”

“Boss, if I may be so forward as to bother you with a personal question?,” Clint asks, straightening his back.

“Yes, Clint?,” I sigh, exhaling loudly.

“You know I am on your side, boss, so if there’s anything else you want me to do, a more delicate issue you want me to take care of, I’ll do it.”

“Speak plainly, please. I don’t have the patience for courtesy right now,” you argue with a pained expression, too tired to deal with all this polite shit.

“What I mean is, if Steve ever hurts you, I’m prepared to take care of it, no questions asked,” he tells you in all honesty and you know he means every word of it.

“Thank you, Clint. Really, I appreciate it more than you know.” You reach out to touch his hand and he lets you take it, squeezing it reassuringly. “But that won’t be necessary. I am perfectly capable of handling the situation on my own.”

Part 3: the madness

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